I don’t dream often and remember them. Sometimes, certain ones will stick around. I typically take over the counter stuff to help me get back to sleep. Otherwise, my mind wakes up for some reason and thinks it’s “GO!!” time and I’m hosed. Couple that with having a hard time getting to be before 11 and that makes for some short nights. One of the side effects is that I typically forget dreams. I didn’t take that or my Benadryl last night.
Last night’s was weird. My recognition that I was dreaming started when I was visiting some family in a Pagoda-like house that was far too numerous on the inside based on it only being a two or three story building, yet having hundreds of rooms and twisting stairways. Thankfully, I was up two stories, but it was considered the ground floor. There were balcony-like areas that one could only see from the inside and were equally as impossible as the number of rooms. I jumped off of one and flew/floated down onto the gas station parking lot where there were a lot Asians selling firecrackers and lighting whole displays off right in the gas station parking lot, while people were getting gas. I “knew” it wasn’t safe, but also felt nothing would happen. I know I said Asians here, but anyone that wasn’t one was a tourist – like me and my family member. I was visiting, they lived there. I kept having to go inside to fetch “something”, several somethings, but I only returned to the gas station lot with something in my hands a few times, compared the to dozens of entries. Each time, I had to go to that specific balcony to float down. It was too crowded to use the stairs, even though they were almost empty every single time.
This flashed to me being in the back of an unmarked, no window van riding around with CIA people to go to a secure meeting location unnoticed. I was with one person I know in real life that isn’t CIA (that I know of!!). I recognized a second person, but didn’t see their face, just a recognition of their spirit? Fine. It was a sketchy van, going to a sketchy part of some town I didn’t recognize, but the roads and building materials reminded me of an “Old Town” sort of feel. The recognition that something was built centuries ago and there was no “city planning” involved. Cramped, winding streets, deadend alleyways, numerous building styles and stone or brick materials from different periods. Really old stuff.
The van stops and my two “friends” get out. This isn’t my stop. We have to drive a ways, and this is in a different location, but somehow these buildings are connected like they’re next door. The screening process involves me hanging around a basement-like room. There were a few people in the room. One was an IT guy I recognized from an old job of mine. He was writing a report and his coat was covering the screen from my view. Nobody talked or made eye contact. You could say less when caught by bad actors that way.
The other was a tall blonde in a black evening gown covered by some sort of thicker fur trimmed jacket. Her outfit reminded me of a gal that just got done at a bar singing old, sultry songs that either pulled at your heart strings or got your blood pressure pumping. It was her cover role. Thing was, I KNEW her. Not in real, daily life, but I was literally remembering things about her. She and I had memories from old roles played in the past, yet I wasn’t CIA. Years of memories, which is a strange thing to be doing when neither of you will make eye contact (despite liking each other). Our ages in these memories matched closely to our current ages, which was strange because it had been a decade ago for some of those. We had had a sort of life together for years that was both real and role, yet neither of us were allowing ourselves to feel that way now. We were there on separate business.
This theme of remembering people I had never met happened a few more times in this dream. There was one gal in thye building that I could feel but not locate that I knew if I ran into, I would be…delayed…from getting to some meeting I was going to be presenting at. And this meeting was the focal point for the rest of my dream.
I knew I had been in that facility before, several times, and to this exact room I was going to speak at, but the interior of the building wasn’t familiar. Part of a wall would job my memory, but the hallway I remembered wasn’t there anymore. I would suddenly realize there was a secret door somewhere and it would appear, even if I hadn’t looked at that part of the room. I would then look and the door would be there, but may not lead me anywhere. I remembered several times that I should call to let them know I was lost but willing to still present, but there were no phones anywhere. Even the front desk people, when I finally found my way back there, didn’t have one. Or any other means of communication.
I saw the singing blonde suddenly move and walk towards a solid wall, which turned into a glass door. I knew she had been contacted, but there were no phones and no speakers. Everyone was as silent as could be to not get caught. I followed her and it led to a long hallway that was sparsely lit. I knew she and I were going different places and she turned off towards a dark classroom while I continued on.
People from several Intelligence organizations, not all US, were still waiting for me as I felt myself get closer to the meeting my “friends” were already at. I never did make it there. No idea why I was presenting or what I was even a specialist of that would warrant an audience like that.
Stuff like this is why I don’t put faith in most dreams. They may be representative of the day or time period’s struggles, but there’s too much to unpack just from the scenes I can see clearly in my head still. I can see those connections and memories, but they weren’t real. I haven’t met those people I had dream memories of and the people I knew in real life were superficially imposed. They didn’t have their waking (spirit) complexity. The stress I would’ve felt getting ready to speak to various country’s Intelligence personnel was absent.
Gotta admit, though. The women were stunningly imperfect, the buildings beautifully brooding in the old Eastern Block style on the insides, and jumping off of a balcony to glide down to a gas station full of fire works going off was pretty cool.
