The Dream Chronicles

So this is the dream I woke from this morning:

Painful Voice

I’m in a large hall… the feel at this point is a field trip type of situation, though we’re all adults, and we’re not students. I don’t remember what the event is supposed to be, but the “headliner”, as it were, is a trio of two men and a woman singing an operatic-type song. As they’re all singing together, I can already tell the woman’s voice is extremely shrill, and I wince. Doubly, since I can’t stand opera, anyway.

As they come to a part of the song where she’s going to be singing solo, I turn to the person next to me and say “I knew there was a reason I was going to..” and suddenly the pause in the song arrives and, as I’ve been yelling to be heard over the noise, I drop my voice to finish “hate this.” But I’m suddenly self conscious that everybody just heard me, including her. She starts singing solo, and her voice gets stronger and even more shrill… painfully so. I kind of try to find a small place in the crowd to hide… where I slide down the wall to sit on the floor and shove my hands against my ears to keep the shrill out.

On to the Next Room

As soon as the song is over, peeps start to file out of the room, and I sneak out quickly before anybody can find and confront me about my loud comment. I follow the crowd, weaving in and out, until we get to another room in which half is lined out in rows of benches in tiers, like a college classroom. So I set myself down in the back row.

However, as soon as everybody’s settled, a guy comes in to face the rows as if he’s the instructor, and immediately singles me out. Evidently the woman I commented to ratted on me, cuz he actually mentions her name (I don’t remember it) and repeats her ear-witness account of my comment, word for word. Though, he’d obviously heard the loud part, himself, cuz he’d evidently thought the last part of my sentence was going to be “copy this” rather than “hate this”. I have no idea why he would think that. Perhaps the place is like the Sydney Opera House, where nobody is allowed to take pictures inside the venues or record the proceedings in any way.

Busted

He accuses me of disrupting the song by being so loud. I defend myself saying that it had already been loud in there, and I indicate the room we’re in at the moment where everybody is kinda talking to each other and the whole room is echoing with noise, as if these were the conditions in the other room as well. Though that fact only just then registers with me. (Never mind, of course, that this logically shouldn’t have been the case during a performance, but there it was.)

I also explain that I had not realized I was making the comment so loudly as to be heard by the whole room, and definitely not the singer. I apologize that she had to hear me and that I hurt her feelings. I do not apologize, however, for being loud. I stop short of explaining the reason behind my rude comment, ie: her singing was killing my ears, cuz somehow I feel that will be even more hurtful, adding insult to insult.

Test #1

So I’m already singled out, and the feel turns to a Boot Camp situation where he’s the Company Commander. As he proceeds along with whatever business he’s conducting (I don’t remember what… I’m busy mulling over the other situation) I suddenly realize that the benches are swaying like teeter totters, or a boat in a storm. At first, only just barely… almost imperceptibly. But then the swaying gets more pronounced, and folks have to either hold on or get off the benches. I realize this is a test, so I dig in, get a solid grip on my bench, and bend my arms to balance as the benches start tipping to 45 degree angles. I remember seeing some other authority figure, female, observe my tactics and approve, so I know I’m doing good.

Still Can’t Do Anything Right

Then the benches stop, and about 1/3 of the peeps that started still remain. Like this is a game show and they were eliminated. I suddenly find that everybody that had been to one side of me when it started were gone, and I’d slid down the benches to the end of the row… where, consequently, I’d had a side edge to hold on to which helped give me a more solid grip during the tipping.

My rejoicing in this fact is cut short by some dood that is sitting in one of the benches a few rows before me. He seems to be a lackey of some sort for the C.C. jerk, cuz he starts getting on my case for being out of my “state”… I should be in the Missouri section. I had not realized that the benches had been divided by state, but then looked up on the wall behind us, and saw a diagram clearly labeling the sections. I argue with this dood, as well, sayin I hadn’t realized there were certain sections, and one can’t really help sliding down tilting benches. Especially when one’s hands are sweating and tend to slip.

The Mind Game

So far, I’m naturally feeling defensive over being singled out, though not overly flustered cuz the arguments are over stupid shit and I know they’re not important. (Well, except for hurting the singer’s feelings, for which I felt bad and accepted responsibility, though I felt equally bad for my poor ears.) Again, a Boot Camp type feel, cuz the first 5 weeks of Boot is one big mind game… until the recruits figure that out, and then there’s no point in keeping it up. I even remember thinking sometime during this segment of the dream that what they don’t know is that I can handle them just fine cuz I’ve already been through this crap before.

Test #2

Nonetheless, ever the one to follow rules, I get up and move back to the Misery section, finding an open place amidst a group of women I don’t recall seeing there before. Unfortunately, during that last particular chew-out, I missed what the guy up front had been saying… which was evidently instructions for the next activity. So I just start trying to figure it out from what’s going on around me. A few assistant-types are passing out egg cartons filled with brightly colored eggs, like they were painted or dyed for Easter. Everybody seems to be taking one, so I do so as well when the carton gets to me.

Lost Cause

Almost as soon as I grab one, the C.C. is right there on my case again, pointing to my hands with a look of disgust that implies that I can’t even follow simple directions. I simply glare at him, beginning to think this is a conspiracy since most of my “offenses” have been honest mistakes related to outside influences. Then I look to the hands of everyone else around me to see how theirs differ from mine. At first I think the problem is that everybody has picked up TWO eggs rather than one, but when I look back at my hands I realize there’s also a smaller egg tucked into a crease in my hand, that I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed. So I know I squeaked by on that detail purely by accident.

I then notice that everybody has already smeared dye all over their hands before picking up their eggs. I can’t see where everybody else has gotten their dye, so I rub some off of the big egg I’m holding, which is still wet, and spread it on my hands… having absolutely no clue why this needs to be done, but not questioning simple instructions cuz one simply does not do that in Boot.

Huh?

The last thing I remember is more closely inspecting the smaller “egg” in my hand, and realizing it’s not really an egg, but a strange sort of tooth with the base colored up like an egg, and four large distinct “prongs” protruding from it. I’m still trying to figure out what THAT’s all about when the dream ends.


Interpretation tomorrow! G'night!