Tag Archives: dream

Boulder Noir: Native Dream

Frank woke up in his latest “flop house,” the small equipment bunker near the mural festooned underpass, and promptly banged his head on what he hoped was a water pipe. If it was gas, his willpower to continue his smoking abstinence would get a bit stronger. He needed to wrap some towels around that pipe to prevent morning headaches, those not inflicted by alcohol.

It was a bit cramped but thankfully it no longer housed any equipment. He had “procured” a pillow and some other bedding material from a previous stay at one of cities fine cheap hotels. He had also obtained a battery powered lamp from a surplus store. He was not afraid of the dark, contrary to any rumors that former paramours may have spread. He just valued light.

This was the first morning he woke up in this concrete hotel and would continue to add some items to make this man cave a bit more homey. Maybe even a battery powered TV but first he needed quite a few more “stickups”. They were overmatched by the odor of a collection of various things he hoped were non toxic. Some people in the same situation would be in deep despair as to where his life had gone. Frank Bronski was not one of those, he was not built to feel sorry for himself. He had a place rent free and off the radar of people looking for him, at least until someone decided they could rent the place out.

It was a surprisingly quiet night and he slept deeply until the early morning when he woke up after a series of vivid dreams. Strangely they all maintained the same theme not unlike the concept albums of the 70’s. Google it or DuckDuckGo it or use whatever search engine you like. It used to be a thing. The theme as far as he pieced it together appeared to be American Indian folklore. Frank was not an expert but any resident of Boulder is familiar with some of it.

Chief Niwot had appeared in his first dream and was his tour guide for the remainder of the dream. The Chief had introduced some characters that were current inhabitants of the overpass mural. All were animals and represented qualities in Native American Folklore.

An eagle appeared and the Chief pointed out it was revered by Native American cultures as a sacred creature embodying courage, vision, and spiritual insight.

Following the eagle a snake made an entrance and the Chief continued his narration . “The snake’s ability to shed its skin is a metaphor for renewal and transformation and used in spiritual and healing practices in many cultures”.

Next up in the animal parade were Owls and Crows and the Chief explained that birds often serve to foretell change. In a quiet but powerful voice the Chief stated that , “Owls are associated with wisdom and knowledge. Some people think crows are omens of death but in the Native American culture it is just the opposite, seeing a crow is considered good luck by many tribes.”

The last creature Frank recalled was a frog who hopped onto the scene with a he casual but cool demeanor that reminded him of young Christopher Walken complete with a kind but mischievous smile and a hint of danger.

Franks thoughts were interrupted by the Chief’s voice. For a brief second he had been so enraptured by the frog he had forgotten about Chief Niwot.“Frogs are considered medicine animals by some tribes and have healing powers and the ability to bring rain. In some tribes, frogs represent transformation and growth. In other tribes they are associated with springtime and renewal. To some cultures, the Frog is a mythological character who killed their Creator with witchcraft. Among the tribes of Panama the rare golden frog is associated with fertility, wealth, and a happy afterlife.”

“Which one do we have here,” asked Frank nodding towards the Frog who appeared deep in concentration although Frank could swear he was snoring.

“Only time will tell,” replied the Chief as he faded away and Frank woke up.

Frank had the sense there was more to the dream or at least should be since it didn’t cover all of the characters on the mural. He was hoping that something would nudge his memory towards recalling more. In the absence of more details he could hope the dream was the first in a series of installments to be visited upon him. If all else fails there was the internet. He was sure he could find good information eventually. It would just take time to sort through the pretenders and he hoped that curious locals added theories frequently.

Note: I found the information on Native American Indian folklore from Frank’s dream on Native Languages of the Americas website.

Vegas: Beat the Day.

Him:
The gambler left the tables when he hit break-even point.
Sounds simple enough but that had taken most of the day.
He was in a fairly deep hole. When he finally could stand on level -ground he and the day were both exhausted. He had beaten the day. Or, he wondered. Had the day beat him?

He avoided all delays to dream time that night, hitting the mattress after only removing his shoes. He didn’t take off his pants. He didn’t take off his flowered shirt. He didn’t even check under the bed to see the briefcase he knew nothing about.

He had no trouble falling asleep. It wasn’t long before he was visiting his less-than-favorite pawn shop.

He found himself sitting in his usual chair tucked in safely by a copious amount of duct tape. This time something was missing, Gone was the feeling of impending doom but the gentle reminder of the duct tape was an indicator that he was not here by choice.

The curtains to his right soon parted and the pawn shop owner appeared. Gone was his five o’clock shadow. Oh gee, he thought. He shaved for the occasion.

“I am very happy,” said the proprietor. “Can you guess why?” he asked.

“You discovered disposable razors,” said the gambler while waiting for the beating that did not occur.

“Very funny, I won’t even beat you because you finally started to play ball,” replied the clean-shaven man.

“Is this about the company softball team because I already told you I have a trick knee .”

”Ha-ha funny man. No, of course not, it’s about you turning that briefcase into cold hard cash.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  Was it cold? I tried to keep it warm,” replied the gambler.

He had no idea what clean-shaven man was babbling about but it was his dream so a little babbling was part of the package.

“Haha. Yes, it took you some time but you did well.”

“Oh, great, I’m happy you’re happy but why the duct tape,” he asked.

“Sorry, forgive me, old habits,” said the clean-shaven man as he cut him out of the chair.

The gambler awoke not much longer afterward. If there was anything more to the dream he could not recall. He only knew he felt great and decided to hit his favorite coffee shop/used record store for breakfast. Taking stock of himself he decided he should take a shower first.

Her:
Her day was like the previous work days. This time, however, she returned a “lost” item, relocating it to under the bed where she found it.

At the end of her day, she was beat.

She barely changed for bed that night before remembering the next day was Saturday. She set her alarm clock for her Saturday wake up time so she could have breakfast at her favorite place.”

Note: The words are coming fast and furious so you may have missed the previous installment. Catch it here.

Vegas: Waking from a Vision

The rays of 2018 fell down upon the Vegas desert without much fanfare and with a few less souls around to witness the event. Fortunately for the purpose of this story, we don’t know those souls. The ones we are familiar with are still following their dreams.

Him:
After playing “what can I see in the clouds” with the water stained ceiling for twenty minutes,  he concluded this session of “lets put off my day”.  He also thought that losing himself in the cards would take his mind off of his troubles.

He thought about that for a moment.

What have I got to worry about? My troubles aren’t anchored to reality. They are attached to something fleeting and nebulous. They’re just dreams. They’re very vivid and painful dreams but they’re just dreams. Maybe “vision” is a more appropriate word.

With that one thought his malaise melted away and he let the hot shower wash any remnants down the drain.

Her:
The light crept into her window and announced its presence by alighting on Nadine’s forehead. She became vertical like a shot. She had no time to waste today.  A man’s life may be at stake. It was just a dream but this one, as well as the man,  stood out from any other in her life. She was worried it may be an actual vision, one that she needed to prevent from becoming reality.

She looked under the bed. Unfortunately, the briefcase was still there. She was hoping it had been swallowed up by her dream. No such luck but she knew what to do.
The hotel’s lost and found was destined to have a new briefcase.

“Nadine putting that in the lost and found will not salve you conscious,” counseled Gladys.

Nadine had not told Gladys about her vision. She didn’t need her boss questioning her sanity. She just told her that the story she shared scared her. She figured that much was true. Whether she had a dream or a vision, there was one thing she knew for sure. The story was certainly the cause of it and it scared the hell out of her.

“You know what you have to do.”

“Yes Gladys, I need to give it back to the owner. Can I just put it back where I found it?”

“Yes, I think that should do it.”