Dreaming Intentions

I’m having difficulty getting back into the swing of writing. I keep letting things in my physical world take over and have been kind of checking out mentally and emotionally. Keith’s ongoing saga of troubles with life as an OTR truck driver; LaLa’s continual in and out presence as she continues along her path and fighting for her dream; Luna’s emotional/behavioral rubber-banding that happens the week or so after her daddy goes back out on the road; and the symptoms of the fibro and cyclothemia. It’s a life pattern and I’m really tired of just letting life happen and feeling as though I’m “phoning it in.” The realities of being in relationship with other human beings, physical and biological conditions, and working against a lifetime of wrong mental/emotional programming and ingrained “self-talk” sometimes loom larger than my determination to do better and be different.

I think all of that played into last night’s dreams. Here’s what I remember:

I was a retail consultant for woman who apparently represents people in my life whom I’ve always felt less than, as epitomized in movies and television. She was the three P’s: Pretty, Powerful, and Positioned. All things I have never considered myself or ever truly believed were possible for me.

Her business was a fashionable roadside, tourist trade boutique with mid-high end baubles, artwork, and clothing.  All her fashions on display were targeted to the CW Teen Queen crowd. The clothing aspect of the business wasn’t doing well. I told her that if she wants to increase sales volume, in this economy and with the kinds of customers who discover her shop from their brief forays off the Interstate to have a meal and fuel up their vehicles, then she needs to make the items she was offering for sale do double duty by being functional and elegant. She needs to market to 30 – 50 year old women and men of a larger than “ideal” stature and not just the haute couture privileged.

The dream diva’s response was somewhat snide, snarky, and sarcastic. However, her other minions/advisors nodded their heads in agreement with me and the suggested changes were implemented with some immediate effect and positive feedback from the next flow of customers to go through her store.

Mind you, the only retail work I have ever done was McDonald’s and Taco Bell. I have never worked in fashion. The only marketing or business classes I have taken were in community college over twenty years ago. I have very little idea where any of the above insight into this imaginary retail business came from.

Cut to the next scene.

I pass by a guy selling varieties of olives at a roadside stand. He’s in some odd kind of costume that’s like a pale, melty version of a Blue Man. It was kind of creepy looking and the tone shifted from bright and shiny to dark and forboding. He approached me, somewhat like an off-ramp panhandler and tries to get me to purchase some of his olives. I love olives and am all for helping out people trying to make their way in the world. However, I didn’t have any cash or a way to keep the olives with me since I wasn’t going home right away. We wound up in a conversation where he got argumentative and aggressive with me, apparently thinking I was speaking down to him and thinking myself better than him. At one point he was practically yelling at me to tell him how much money I earn doing my little job and didn’t I know he was pulling in over $19/hr doing his thing? I decided to disengage and walk away. He followed and a foot chase ensued.

I ran and hid in an underground garage and slowly found myself creeping and inching my way through it until I came into contact with a small group of people who were heading into a Plasma Donation Center, where I hid out for a while before leaving and heading out.

Then, I wound up in an acquaintance’s home, getting ready to leave, but taking a can of Pepsi home with me.

I could definitely be remembering these vignettes out of sequence and they could have been an amalgam of different episodes, since I know I woke up suddenly a couple of different times and went back to sleep over the course of a couple of hours. I don’t often wake up remembering my dreams. Those few times I do, I can’t recall this kind of detail. It was disquieting.

What to make of it all? I know that some of what my brain was processing has to do with some of the things I’ve been watching on television over the past few days. Shows like Revenge, Red Widow, The Americans, and Banshee where there’s a lot of tension, conflict, and people fighting for what they believe in while using deception and violence, filled with unresolved sorrow turned into hate and rage, fighting for the right to control their own destinies while trying to shape the lives of those around them to suit their goals. Last night, LaLa and her SpiritLove were here and we watched some comedies: Rules of Engagement and Two Broke Girls. Some similar themes handled in lighter and funnier ways were addressed. It was all about relationship dynamics, one-upsmanship, and what are you willing to do to accomplish your goals, whatever they may be.

I think my dreams are telling me to turn off the television, stop letting everyone else’s issues and agendas dictate mine, and trust that I know what I need to know and just do what I need to do to get it done.



  1. It’s weird how our brains appropriate what we watch and listen to for dreams. I used to sleep with the radio on all the time, and I’d hear songs in my dreams all the time, usually just as I was about to wake up.


    1. Mary,
      You are so right. I’m sure there was other stuff going on as well, but I’m trying to limit the length of my posts, lol. I’m pretty sure I did the same thingin my younger years, when I needed music in my ear 24/7.



Your feedback, thoughts, and input are appreciated.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s