…and then the next week or so turned into most of a month.
Some time back, I don’t recall exactly when, I’d had another kind of odd dream which I have good recall of.
I’m sitting in the parking lot of grocery store I’d worked at 20 something years ago. I’m in a car talking to a guy. Don’t know him in real life. We had been running around earlier in the dream. Not sure how we ended up in the parking lot but we were about to part company. He was headed south but my truck was parked north, near a streetfest we’d attended earlier. Out his driver’s side window was a woman I know only from cyberspace. We’ll call her Mata Hairi. (Yes, I know that’s not the way it’s spelled) She was sitting in an early 90’s, burgundy, Buick 4 door. I remembered that she’d been downtown earlier as well and maybe she could give me a lift back. I hopped into her car with little fanfare and we headed back. She pulled out of the parking lot to head north on Rt 1. However she waited til the very last moment to actually turn the nose of the car to the left and I was sure we were going to roll straight into the woods across the street from the lot. I think I uttered an expletive. She did finally turn, hard, physically rolling her into me before I pushed her back behind the wheel. Just before she made impact with me on my side of the car I felt her hair brush my arm. I was almost instantly giddy. We drove north to 14th St and turned east toward Greenwood Cemetery Rd. Heading north on Greenwood we came upon one of the golf courses of my dreams. There are 4 golf courses I play in my dreams that don’t exist in real life. One on the east side of town, one on the south, one on the west and one south of the many years gone ‘singing bridge’ near Oakwood. As the course came into view, what had previously been an overcast day was at once sunny. A brilliant red fox sat near the road near the course boundary and watched as we passed. His eyes were strikingly yellow. We hit a few balls on the driving range before continuing on towards my truck. At this point we had abandoned her car and were proceeding on foot. I pointed to the north and east at the ‘east’ course which was visible from where we were. In real life the east course would be located 4 or 5 miles away but somehow we could see it just across the river. I told her it was where my father and I had played. We continued walking towards the downtown across a bridge which has not been in existence in my lifetime but did once exist. It’s been gone for at least 50 years. As we approached Main St we came upon the back entrance of an antique shop and decided to have a look around before heading on. It was just like any other shop you’ve ever been in til we exited out the front door. Along the bannister of the front porch were small framed photos of people who had died. As we stepped down the front steps we could see the outside of the bannister was literally covered with the same type of thing. Mata Hairi remarks that maybe it’s his (the shop owner’s) hobby. Then I notice the front yard. There is a single tree in the front yard. The rest of the yard is absolutely covered with rounded rocks of varying sizes that seem to be some kind of memorial markers. I told her I didn’t think this was a hobby. I didn’t really know what to think of it. Then I woke up.
I’d enjoyed the sunny day and spending time with my friend but the ending struck me as kind of strange. Thinking back on it, it became maybe even a little stranger.
Nobody in real life has ever seen these courses. While it is true that my father and I had played the one course, it only happened after he’d died. We had played in a dream after his death.
We’d spent the day on the couse and afterwards had a bbq on the clubhouse patio. He said he really liked my course and was glad I shared it with him. I told him I thought he was able to see it now because he, like the course, only existed in my head. It was a very pleasant dream.
So in review:
We have death memorials at the shop
A golf course on Greenwood Cemetery Rd.
A living person besides me who has now been exposed in my dreams to one of these courses, previously seen only by a dead person in my dreams.
And I pointed out the course to her that I’d played with the old man. A dream I’d told her about before and then I wondered… is she alive? Is she in trouble?
I blinked the fog out of my head and dashed off an email to her telling her she’d just been in a golf course dream and that I was kind of worried.
Later that day or the next I got something back from her stating she still had a pulse but she’d remembered me telling her about playing golf with my dad. And that now she was kind of worried. Fortunately worrying won’t kill you. But it was all very strange.


  1. Alright, you know I love reading about dreams and this was first-class, so thank you for that. Now before I get into the meat of things I have one request. Can you please, *please* put an extra return between each paragraph?

    It makes everything so much easier to read. Thanks in advance.

    Hey, did Mata Hari have a ponytail in your dream?

    She was so much more interesting when I thought she was me. But you never sent me an email wondering about me well being, so I guess it’s someone else. (hmpff)

    When you said you didn’t think all of the memorial markers in the yard were part of the owner’s hobby I thought you were going to continue to say the guy was akin to John Wayne Gacy and it was actually a house of horrors.

    But you didn’t and then you woke up.

    • I suppose I can hit the return one more time. You’ll probably be mortified to learn how I compose these things. They’ve got this little box that’s called quick post or something of the like on wordpress where there are 3 lines visible. So I can see what I just typed and that’s about it. Just these few lines in the response are more than I can see in that box. Anyway, after I feel like I got everything down I was going to say, I just post it and don’t bother proofing it. It’s not that I can’t, it’s just that I’m lazy. Mata Hairi didn’t have a ponytail. She does on occasion wear a wig in other dreams. She looks a little like this:

      You’ll see her photo at the 20 second mark.

      I don’t really know what I thought all the markers were.It seems like a strange place to end but once you wake up it’s hard to find your way back in there.

  2. I’m a year late, but I laughed out lout at that video.

    • It’s obviously moronic but as a kid I thought it was a pretty cool show. I guess I still kind of like it.

      • Oh, you’re all grown up now? 😛

        • Close as I’m going to come to it. But the tide is going back out now and before you know it I’ll be getting my diapers changed and blowing spit bubbles like the old days.

          • That should have read blowing MORE spit bubbles.

  3. So it just now occured to me to come see what clever comeback you had to my “grown-up” jab. For some reason, I forgot it wasn’t email & wouldn’t be popping up into my inbox.

    Not all old people are incontinent & blow bubbles. In fact, a lot less than you would think. And I’m an expert on old people. I spend more time with old people than my own kids. Ha.

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