Category Archives: Dreams

Bungee Trapeze Dream

Last night, I dreamt that I was a member of an amateur trapeze act. We were going to perform at an outdoor amphitheater beside a frozen lake. It was late winter/early spring. There had been some melting the day before, but everything had refrozen. I remember standing on a rock beside the lake and amphitheater at dusk. Purples, dark blues and blacks overtook the sky as the fading orange of the sun dissipated.

I was attached to a tandem bungee cord with another male performer dressed in white tights and rhinestones. I was dressed in black with a fir mink collar which was soft and warm. We jumped from the rock and tandemed through the air – low, high; low, high. We would take turns landing on the lake. Up, down; up, down. I enjoyed the experience of controlled flight with someone else.

There weren’t very many people in the audience because it was dark and cold, maybe only a dozen or so. At the far end of our guy-wire, I landed on the ice and broke through. I had fallen knee deep before the other end of the tandem came down, allowing me to fly through the air and out of the broken hole in the lake. My partner and I bounced our way back to the rock, having lost our momentum in the fall. We looked like we were taking turns walking on the moon.

My partner and I climbed the rock and the attendants were beginning to examine my legs when I woke up.


Recent Dreams

I’ve had quite a few dreams recently, so I want to get into the habit of writing them down again. My dog Harley also had a dream last night. Hers was a nightmare, because I could hear her growling and sleep barking and twitching in the middle of the night.


They’re Taking My House Dream


Last night, I dreamt that I had my Dad and family over to my house for movie night. The house was very similar to my childhood home on Bloomington Ave. I have my car in the garage and everyone arrives. We are starting to settle in when I receive a knock on the door. It is a detective, 5 policemen and the sheriff at my door. They show me a worn and dog-eared summons and complaint along with a writ of eviction. I insist there must be some mistake, since I’m current on my mortgage, but the detective says that this isn’t about the mortgage. The neighborhood across the street had formed an association and sued all of the homeowners on my block to condemn/bulldoze our houses because our homes “represented a blight upon the community and local property values.” This lawsuit hadn’t shown up when I was in the process of buying the house, but that didn’t matter. The judge had agreed, the appeals were over, and now the law was being enforced. We were to vacate immediately and leave everything behind. We didn’t even have time to grab our coats and shoes.

Everyone in the neighborhood was in the street and I could tell that a riot was about to begin. I took the summons, complaint and other paperwork to a friend of mine across the street and down the block. He greeted me at the door. When I showed him the paperwork, his face turned sad. He admitted that he was a part of the association. He had noticed the lawsuit in his association newsletter, but that he had never taken the lawsuit seriously. He thought it was unprecedented; having a judge condemn your neighbors homes for blight, but it happened. I was furious, so I left his home.

It was after dark and the people in the street were gone. My family wanted their coats and shoes back and I wanted my mikick (baby blanket). I told them to wait in the car around the block while I broke into the house. My key still worked and I slowly and quietly moved through the house. I got my mikick right away, but I was discovered on the first floor. The detective shined his light on me and he was with a policeman. I explained that I came back to get my family’s coat and shoes and he let me do that.

The next morning, I went to the bus stop to catch the bus to work. I was wearing the same clothes as the day before. I considered taking the day off to get a lawyer to see what I could do to battle my foreclosure. A friend from real life, Paco, was also with me at the bus stop. Him and the other folks at the stop were barefoot. I had some notepads from the hotel I stayed in and I showed him how to use the cardboard as soles for a makeshift shoe. It worked for a few steps, but then broke.

Before the bus arrived, my Dad pulled up in his car. “Where’s your car, son?” he asked.

“It’s in the garage,” I said, “Oh fuck.”

“Do you think you can get it?”

“I’ll try,” I said as I got into his car.

For some reason, we drove to a local mechanic shop a couple of blocks away from the house. My Dad talked with the mechanic, giving him a vague reason of a sound my car made when it started. He said we would drop it off that morning. The mechanic seemed friendly enough for a middle-aged man with pepper hair. I don’t know what the plan was for the mechanic. Maybe he was trying to get more paperwork or something?

After the mechanic, we slowly drive up the alleys until we come to my house. I can see that they’ve changed the locks already because the key boxes are already on the doors. It is when I’m in the back yard, debating whether to break into the house again or into the garage right away to get the car, when I wake up.


Sand Dream


On Friday night, in real life, I was invited over to my friend Dan’s house to play poker. He is getting married in two weeks, but I’m not invited to the wedding. That’s okay. I’ve not been invited to weddings before and I stayed friends. Although, in this case, I have yet to meet his fiancé. Poker was fun. I stayed after everyone left and helped clean up and Dan and I caught up on the past year.

That night, I dreamt that I was in Chicago visiting Jazzy. We went and played sand volleyball for a few hours at sunset. Afterward, we walked back to a modern condominium complex where she lived. I was completely covered in sand from volleyball and she was kind to let me shower at her place.

After we both took a shower, I opened up a bottle of chardonnay and we started talking and playing board games. It was nice to catch up, because we haven’t seen each other for about 10 years or something. She owned a store similar to a tattoo store where she worked and where we went for her first tattoo. I vaguely remember her telling me the story of the store and of her time in Chicago. We played Scrabble and she beat me like always. At the end of the night, she went to her room and I slept on her leather couch. That was the end of a pleasant dream.

Poisonous Snakes Frozen in the Mountain

Last night, I had a dream where I was travelling with the Top Gear guys, excuse me “Grand Tour” guys: Jeremy, James and Richard. We were in a mountainous region and I think I was working as part of the camera crew, like a grip or something. I was holding reflectors and carrying battery packs while they were being filmed for various segments in the morning. We were either in the Alps or the Pyrenees. It was late spring and it was sunny and pleasant. By the afternoon, shooting had wrapped for the day and I was free to go for a walk along the mountainside.

I climbed one of the mountains up to the snowline. As I got closer to the snow line, I began to notice lots and lots of what I thought were dead snakes. I carefully stepped around them to get closer to the ice and snow of a melting glacier. I could hear the melting babble of a nearby brook as the glacier melted beneath the warm sun, the gorgeous blue sky and a couple of stray white whispy clouds.

The glacier was fascinating. Snakes were frozen inside of the ice. Lots of snakes. Big snakes and small snakes. As the glacier melted, tails and heads and various parts of snakes emerged from the ice, all seemingly dead.

As it happens, I like snakes. I looked around and I began to realize that most of these snakes were poisonous. Most were asps or rattlesnakes, but there were also a few coral snakes. I even saw an anaconda frozen in the glacier.

As I studied the snakes in the ice, I saw some stray movement out of the corner of my eye. First the tail of one snake, then another, started wriggling in the ice, trying to free themselves. I looked down the mountain and some of the snakes were slowly starting to move. It was time to get out of there. I carefully crept my way around the awakening poisonous snakes and, once clear, I started running down the mountain towards the chalet. Running down the mountain, I turned and to my horror, the snakes were chasing me!

I reached the chalet and climbed the stairs to the deck. A coral snake and a few asps were still behind me and climbing the stairs. On the deck there were 3 white poofy Maltese or Pomeranian dogs barking and jumping towards the snakes. I tried to open the sliding door to get in to the chalet, but it was stuck. The little dogs were going ballistic on the snakes and were holding them successfully at bay for a time. Little by little the sliding door was cracking open. That was when I got bit twice – once on my right ankle and once on my left knee. It was painful, but I was panicking to get in and hardly noticed.

I made it in, but I was struggling to the close the door. I was panting and my breath was short. I was starting to sweat. I collapsed on the floor and one of the asps got in. Someone from housekeeping noticed me, grabbed a broom and brushed the snake outside, but not before it bit me on the right shoulder. The person with the broom got the door shut. One of the dogs had made it back inside and started licking my face. I could hear the other dogs barking. My heart was pounding and I was struggling to breathe.

“Stay calm. I’m getting help,” the housekeeper guy said. I could feel my blood thickening and my heart struggling to pump the blood syrup though my body. My mind travelled back to the image of all those snakes in the ice, wriggling to get free and that’s when I woke up.

Encountering A Fellow Traveler Dream

Last night I dreamt that I was travelling somewhere in North America. In my dream it was Wyoming, but now that I’m awake, that doesn’t make sense. It was probably Colorado of the not-too-distant future. I know this because there were mountains.

I was staying in a modern style townhome complex built into a mountain, full of stainless steel and glass, where part of the mountain extended into the living rooms and bedrooms. After I dropped off my stuff, I walked down the mountain a short ways to a tram or bus stop, caught the public transportation, and headed into town.

My goal was simply to walk around the pedestrian areas, visit some museums and perhaps see a movie. It felt like early- to mid-spring; chilly, but not unpleasant. While at an art museum, I went to the outdoor cafeteria. Walking along, I thought I recognized someone enjoying a coffee while sitting on a curb. I walked up to her and called her by her name and she responded. She was a Canadian friend of mine whom I’ve never met in real life. She is well travelled and I was very happy to run in to her.

For the rest of the dream (the entire day), we walked around town, talking about movies and politics and ideas. I remember walking by a movie theater that was playing a movie I wanted to see. I asked her opinion of the movie. She had already seen it and had no interest in seeing it again, thus we continued walking.

We caught the bus and trains together. We even caught the same tram together back up the side of the mountain at sunset. I was excited to show her the place I was staying in, but she decided it was time to turn in and we separated at my stop. The sun had already set behind the mountain, but I stood there watching the colors change in the sky. I was thinking about this wonderful day I had spent with Liz. That’s when I woke up. 

A Dream of Drug Busts and Drugs

In real life, I stayed home on Saturday night. It was cold outside and I was out of money, but I wanted to go out and meet someone, somewhat like I did last weekend. Instead, I just stayed home and watched SNL, sometimes flirting with women on online dating with no consequences or results. After SNL, I went to bed.


I dreamt that I lived in a house on either Lake and Garfield or Lake and Aldrich in Uptown. It was Saturday night and I was staying home for the same reasons as I listed in real life. Only, instead of going to bed, I was suffering from insomnia. I had the same roommates I currently have plus Katie and her boyfriend, Tony. My roommates were all out, so I had the house to myself. I spent my evening haunting the creaky old house, turning TVs on and off, going from room to room, playing some music on the piano or bass, but always listening to the parties going on around the bars of Lyn-Lake and being too broke to go out.

Around 3:00 in the morning, people started returning to the house. I was sitting in a below ground patio or sunroom watching TV because I was bored in the house and I wanted to cool off in the cooler sunroom. I remember Tony coming home and telling me about how great it was being out and how he went to this rave and stuff. He brought some folks back to his room and the commotion continued. I just sat in the basement sunroom and watched black-and-white cowboy shows on broadcast TV.

After awhile, Tony came downstairs with some girls and they took a seat in some chairs. I continued to sit on the couch. Then some cops came in through the screen door, some with submachine guns, and asked to search the house. I said, “Sure,” because I was feeling apathetic and reasonably sure they wouldn’t find anything. They left the room and I heard them rummaging around the house. I started getting up from the couch, but then another cop came in through the door and started shooting the floor with his submachine gun. I sat back down. He had a shocked expression on his face when he looked at me and said he was sorry.

“Am I under arrest?” I asked. He told me no, but also ordered me not to wander off too far. I went outside into the autumn air and watched as the police brought the entire neighborhood on lockdown. Some stray drunk girl told me that this was a mass drug bust by the police. I saw search lights, pat downs, arrests, and maybe even a helicopter overhead.

“Oh look!” the girl said, stumbling around, “Tiger Woods!”

I looked up the alley behind It’s Greek To Me and the Jungle Theater and there were men in towels coming out of a sauna that I didn’t even know was there, and sure enough, there was Tiger Woods.

The people that weren’t being arrested were continuing their Saturday night party in the street around the cops. They were too drunk to care. In the parking lot of Dulanos, I ran into Jazzy. She was definitely on something because she was beside herself with happiness.

“McScarry! You’ve gotta try this!” she said, swishing around a screw-top water bottle of juice.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

She giggled and said, “Drugs.”

Normally I don’t do drugs, but I’ve always had a crush on this girl for years and years. I took her screw-top bottle, opened it, and drank. It tasted like mango-peach with a strange side taste, slightly metallic. I put the top back on and handed her bottle back.

We embraced and started making out in the parking lot. It was intense and enjoyable. I began to think that I hadn’t made out with anyone like this in a long time. I also began to feel the drugs begin to kick in and I felt lighter and lighter. I was beginning to feel happy, really happy. I pulled back from making out to look at Jazzy in the face, but the drugs were really just waking me up.


I laid in bed for awhile after this dream, thinking about what this dream meant. I was sober. I did not drink anything yesterday and I did not go out. My subconscious was definitely punishing me for not going out last night.

Dreams (10/12/2016)

Last night, I had two dreams. Normally, I try to write about my dreams immediately after I wake up so that all the details are fresh, but this afternoon, my thoughts stray towards the dreams I had last night.


In my first dream, I dreamt that my brother Jeremy had joined the navy and that I was accompanying him on one of his naval missions. The naval mission was to transport a ship full of endangered species across the Pacific to a natural preserve in order to give them a chance to survive. It was like a floating zoo or ark.

Suddenly, the ship was attacked by a giant sea serpent. I stood in the upper deck of this giant cargo hold as the snake burst through the hull and slithered viciously around, thrashing on the wet deck. Water stopped rushing in, probably because some emergency bulk heads closed. What was left was a small amount of water in the hold, but the giant snake kept thrashing around, wacking against the plexiglass animal displays. A ramp in the right center of the hold was open, leading to a ramp to the hallways of the ship. A crewman came out of the passageway and when the snake lunged at him, a giant bulkhead snapped shut like a great bear trap, crushing the head of the snake and killing the crewman.

I went below deck and walked that same hallway with my brother and entered the cargo hold to look at the carnage. The snake was massive – about the size of 2 houses. The crewman had sacrificed himself to save the ship and the animals. Then, looking around at the cargo hold, I felt terrified about being caught in the same trap, just like the snake or the crewman. Then I woke up.


In my second dream, I was at my old apartment, only it was the modified version that I’ve dreamt about on several occasions. It was November, cold, gray and flurrying. I was at my apartment, trying to get it ready for winter with me as the resident. I remember trying to turn on the heat, but the hallways remaining drafty. The apartment had a musty smell.

I went through my apartment. It was still tidy. The bed was made. Even on a cold, gray day, the natural light flowed in and illuminated the rooms. When I went to close the windows, I discovered by the apartment was so drafty. Branches and tree limbs and broken through the glass and grown into the interior of the apartment building. There was thick painters plastic covering the broken windows, but it kept flapping in the breeze.

In my dream-modified apartment, I own my original apartment unit, a back patio, the unit across from mine and one of the two front units, and the unit above mine. I’ve had happy dreams in this place, but to see it so desolate was heartbreaking. I reminisced about the dream-memories I had: the parties, the fights, the expansion, the summer lounging and the stary nights, an entire life that was now in the rearview mirror, being taken over by nature, and left to rot in the flurries of the November sky.

In my dream, I remember working very hard to try and save my apartment complex, but as night made its early approach, I realized that there was no way I could be ready in time for the winter snow. So I gave up. When I gave up, I awoke from my second dream.

Russian Dream

Last night I had a dream where a lot happened, but I just wanted to give a highlight. I was in California on vacation. For whatever reason, a decent chunk of California, somewhere down by San Diego, had been given to Russia. This chunk that had been given to Russia was actually pretty nice. I actually liked what they had done with the place. Instead of the sad Cossack factory you would expect from Russia, they kept their new land as a nice piece of forested semi-wilderness. I know there is no place like this near the real San Diego, but, what-the-hell, its a dream.

The first day I decide to travel to Russian-occupied California, I bring my passport, wait in the car travel line at the border crossing for over an hour, go on through and enjoy the wonderful wooded sanctuary that Russia has to offer on what once was American soil. There are tall redwoods, birds are singing, squirrels are running around. It is a welcome reprieve from the bustle of city life.

That night, after returning a friend’s apartment in San Diego, I go out and have a good time. When I come home, one of the neighbors had been violently murdered. These were people I met earlier in my dream. I think it was a sweet Asian lesbian and her lover who were murdered by some guy or ex-lover or something. It was pretty unsettling. I decided I would rather go camping in the Russian woods the following night instead of remain at this crime scene. I grab my backpack and gear and leave near sunset.

At the Russian border, the line is moving much faster than the day before. It takes only 20 minutes to get to the checkpoint and I am in the lane at the end of checkpoint rows closest to the Russian border building. As I am 3 cars away, I reach into my pocket and am shocked to discover that my passport is not in my pocket! I’m digging in my backpack when it is my turn to pass through. There are 2 border guards sitting next to each other in this cramped booth and I’m going to be holding up their smooth-moving line.

“I’m sorry to do this, but I need to step out of my car to get my passport. It is in my luggage. Is that alright?” I ask. The grim, frowning Russian border guard nods.

I get out of my car holding my backpack and start picking through my bag. I hear my border guard talking in Russian to his partner. I can’t find my passport and, as I think about where it is, I turn to the border guard and say, “I think this might take awhile to dig out. Would you like to take a break or something? Maybe run and use the bathroom? It must be really tough to be crammed into your box all day. This would be a good time for a break.”

The border guard’s eyes light up at the opportunity. He turns to his partner, speaks some Russian, and his partner nods.

“Alright,” he says, “while you look for passport, I go inside. Uri here will be watching you.” He says it sternly, yet thankfully. Then I watch his overweight body walk quickly into the border building. He looked like he really needed to use the bathroom.

As I’m taking apart my backpack and tent, I remembered where my passport was. It was in my big suitcase back at the apartment! I don’t know why I put it there. I guess I was folding laundry and thought, “Hey, what a great place to put this when I’m not using it!”

It takes about 20 minutes for my guard to return. He has a big smile on his face. He turns to his partner, they converse in Russian and then his partner heads for the building.

“You find?” my guard asks.

Embarrassed, I respond, “I think I might have left my passport in my luggage back in America.”

“You need to look more in bags, yes?” The guard says, smiling and nodding.

I get the message. Smiling and nodding, I say, “Yes. I need to look some more for my passport.”

I end up making a friend with my border guard. We talk about his work and I sympathize with the stress of his job. He was so thankful that I allowed him his break. He really needed to poop, and we both laugh at this sad fact. In Russia, you don’t break from job, job breaks you. His partner returns, we laugh at a parting joke, and I take the turnaround road back to the United States where I’ll spend the night at my friend’s apartment.