Ding

(Sunday, November 21, 2021)

The exact “ding” sound I hear when someone texts me woke me up early Sunday morning. I picked up my phone, checked it, but no one had sent me a text. I realized the bell-ring was intended to alert me to the dream I just had: “This dream is important!”

In the dream, two older women are lying asleep in single beds in a shared hospice room or nursing home. Lights are on and I have stepped in as an observer. The woman closest to me has wavy, jet-black hair. The other woman, who is lying on her side and facing away from me, has soft white-grey hair. Each of the two beds are holding large, square, white wooden boxes that touch the women’s feet. Their knees are bent to make room for the boxes. The boxes are sealed except for square openings on one side of each box. I leave the room to avoid disturbing the stillness.

After I walk out of the hospice room, into a hallway, my consciousness becomes aware of a man with a handgun who is entering the room. He is angrily responding to the social media posts of these women. He shoots and kills them both, and is able to sneak out of the room without anyone seeing him.

I also see and hear nothing, except for within my intuition. I dash into the women’s room and find them cruelly discarded into the square wooden boxes, the oddly-shaped coffins. There is an emergency communication device on the far wall, near the grey-haired woman’s bed. I slam the buttons, crying for help.

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Because of the “ding,” I spend a long time lying in bed, going over the dream details. I eventually fall asleep and the dream continues.

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I am at work. The two women in charge of communications have asked me to write a blog post, so I slowly sift through all of the elements and publish one based on the dream that woke me up. Dinged me. When I let them know that the blog subject is based on a dream, they are anxious and horrified. But their emotions don’t affect me in the least. I tell them: “Well, you can just delete it from the web if you don’t like it.” And I walk away, perfectly happy.

The dream shifts to a huge Victorian house. I comment that hundreds of people could live here, which is important in these times of tremendous poverty and homelessness. A logical, organized contractor has been in charge of clearing, repairing and updating the house. He shows me the clean, white sheets and comforters in every bedroom. All of the rooms now feel spacious and calm, beautiful and livable.

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Day notes:

Before this dream I had listened to Al Franken’s podcast about Facebook and the sociopathic business practice of Mark Zuckerberg.

Today I received a Facebook post from the IASD about Dr. Patricia Garfield. She is now in hospice. She has been suffering from cancer for many years.

The acquittal of Kyle Rittenhouse has been devastating news. A nightmare. Social media is inspiring violence and murder.

On my way home from getting my booster shot, a truck drove past me from White Crane, a company I have been interested in for some remodel projects. This dream confirms for me that White Crane would be a good choice.

The Dreamsters Union