I'm presently taking a slew of medication to control my Bipolar problem. They're all anti-psychotic meds with differing side effects. One causes short-term memory loss, one makes me sleep like a bloody narcoleptic, and one; my favourite, causes dreams that might be on par with an acid trip. Last night it kicked in. I want to get this down before I forget about it because it was so vivid and so strange. So sit back and enjoy a taste of my drug-induced subconscious...
|The tower as it appeared in my dream.|
I didn't add all the details, nor did I even
count the floors, but you get the idea.
I didn't want to spend all day on this.
Family and friends began to gather to celebrate. My car was in there too, again, I don't know how. My father showed up with his car, a 1952 Alpha Romeo sport. He had an entourage with him, his own friends some of which I knew, the rest were strangers. Somehow they all fit into the two-seater. It looked like a convertible clown car.
My father died in 2009.
More people began to gather. Now people in business attire trickled in; I assume they also work in the new tower. We were in a room that closely resembled a log cabin. Hand-hewn logs for walls, plank boards for a floor, no windows, and a great stone fireplace. Off to the distance I notice a bar. We, complete with our two cars, were in an Irish pub. While people drank my father handed me replica antique cars he said we could use. I argued with him because they weren't the same scale as the replicas we intended to use. I of course, lost to my father. I have no clue what the significance of the replicas were, except that we were sitting in our respective cars while having this arguement.
More people came in. Everyone was talking about the upcoming wedding - in three days. There was a table set up near the door where people were depositing flowers. Strangely, all the same kind; mostly stems and leaves with small white flowers. The table quickly piled up. Some people simply entered, deposited their flower gifts, and respectfully backed out as if someone would ensnare them in some sort of trap if they entered. There was more talk of the wedding, but no talk of the bride and groom.
Later, there was news of a death in the family. I don't know who, as far as I knew every member of both families were already in the room. I looked around to see if any of them were actually dead, but everyone was drinking merrily. The news spread fast, everyone knew of the passing within minutes and the party turned into a wake. After all, we were in an Irish pub. (with two cars on the 42nd floor of a tower). The problem quickly became apparent, the wedding and funeral would have to take place on the same day, but which had priority? One suggestion was to lay the body out in the casket at the back of the church. Another was to.........
This is when I lost it. I either woke up here, or my brain just had enough. I've spent the morning trying to jog my memory, but there is nothing after this thought process. Maybe that's a good thing. I'm quite disturbed by the imagery in this dream. especially my father showing up. I know it's common to dream about relatives we've lost, but this was so NOT my dad. Everything about him differed in some way or another from the subconscious portrayal. Maybe I was dreaming of the way I wanted him to be? Maybe the way he wanted to be? I don't know. After all it was just a dream.
The night before I had a less intense and much shorter weird dream. I had joined the US Army, but I wasn't at any sort of boot camp, it was more like an academy. The uniforms were not military - short sleeve white collared dress shirts and navy blue dress pants. The shirt had a small patch on the sleeve the simply said US Army.
From the time I got there everyone seemed to know me, and all gave salutations as if I was a celebrity. I remember heading up to my classroom one day with books in hand. When I sat down I was handed a brochure with my name on it. Apparently I had won free flooring for my entire house from Marquis Tile in Windsor. So I still lived in Windsor, I have no idea where this academy was, what I was doing there, why I was known, and why I won. Again, just a dream.
So now you have it. This is what my medication does to me. I also apparently talk in my sleep. The kids have great fun when I crash on the couch and begin to chatter. One in particular I found amusing was telling Riley to cover her brother Iain with chocolate and put him in the oven on 400 for about an hour. I have no recollection of that or any other verbal dreams. But as long as I keep people entertained, that's fine by me.
As least Kim knows that I can never keep a secret from her.
I promise to write again soon!