This post is about a pretty vivid dream I had. When I woke up the next morning I could recall in detail most of the dream or at least the part of the dream that I felt was trying to tell me something.
Most of the time dreams are just a lot of nonsense. They’re just my subconscious coming out while my conscious brain is sleeping. They jump all over the place and things happen that have nothing to do with my reality. But sometimes dreams or parts of them are pretty specific. When I wake up I have total recall of the dream or the part of the dream that I feel was trying to speak to me.
The morning after this dream I thought I would write it down and maybe someday I would be able to make sense of it.
It started out with the usual assortment of disconnected events. This one had something to do with my wife and myself traveling on a highway which I didn’t recognize and then getting caught up in some sort of car chase. We weren’t the subject of the car chase but somehow it was going on around us.
We ended up at an antiques and collectibles shop, the type my wife and I like to visit. This is where the dream became very vivid and I could recall the details.
As you walked into the shop you went down a set of stairs maybe 7 to 10 steps but your typical stairway entrance into a circa 1970’s commercial building. When we walked down the stairs at the bottom the first thing I see among all the other collectibles in the store are two gold satin flame Slingerland drum kits, very much like the ones I own. I understand how that could work its way into my dreams.
I check them out but I know I’m not going to buy them. I already have two sets like them.
As I finish looking over the two vintage drum kits I glance to my right and there I spot several more drums. Not in kits just various drums. Some of the drums are on a display shelf and other are hanging up high above the ones on the display shelf.
I notice that two of the drums on the shelf are chrome snare drums and another one is a piccolo snare drum. I look at its badge and it says Tama.
Next on the shelf I notice some marching band style snare drums. They all have some finish issues. The laminate is peeling off but all seem to have the snare throw mechanism in good working condition.
When I try to hit them with my hand I can’t get a sound out of them. I look at the badges and they all have names I don’t recognize. I do remember that one read Gavin.
I then look up at the drums hanging up high. There are more marching snares and they look in very good condition. But they are up so high I can’t see the name of the maker or play them to see what they sound like.
I decide to go back across the store to the first kits I saw when I came in. I remembered that there was a pair of sticks laying on one of those kits.
As I am walking back to the hanging drums and the drums on the display shelf I’m thinking about trying out that piccolo snare and the snares on the shelf. When I get back they are gone and there are lots of other people looking at the hanging drums. I am getting frustrated because I still can’t see a price or the maker’s name. If the price is right I’ll want to buy one or two.
I think let’s go back to the counter and get someone to help you get them down but when I look back at the counter it now has a long line of people waiting to check out and everyone is busy behind the counter. I don’t want to leave the drums. I fear that they will be gone when I get back just like the drums on the shelf. Who knows how long I’ll have to wait in that line.
As I’m looking at the line at the checkout counter I hear an African type beat behind me. It sounds really good.
When I turn around and look to see where this rhythm is coming from I see a very attractive woman with a small girl. I assume the little girl is her daughter. They are both playing some of the very drums I was interested in looking at and purchasing.
The attractive women is standing on a level higher than me. She is wearing a very low-cut top.
For some reason she bends over to give me a piece of candy and when she does you can almost see her whole breast.
Suddenly she realizes what I am looking at and quickly places her hand where it stops her top from drooping down and exposing her breast.
I wake up to the alarm.
What was that about?
Few dreams are so vivid and so few I can remember those kind of details. As I write this from the notes I made the next morning I can still see the shop and how it was setup.
Was I or was someone trying to tell me something?
© Otis P Smith and About the Groove, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Otis P Smith and About the Groove with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.