A friend whom I Slack with regularly was rather disturbed on Friday after dreaming that a coworker died. I know the feeling! I had a similar dream once. It’s weird enough having dreams about people you work with even when they’re alive and well. I see these people eight hours a day (well, I used to, until this whole pandemic thing happened). As much as I enjoy their company, it feels awkward to spend the night with them! Err…so to speak. Infiltrating my subconscious after hours feels a bit too intrusive. A line should be drawn somewhere, and for me, that somewhere is when the 5:00 whistle blows.
I should point out that a whistle doesn’t actually blow to signal the end of the day, as it did for Fred Flintstone when his shift ended at the Bedrock Quarry. Nor, for that matter, do I use my feet to “pedal” my car home. Occasional trains pass through downtown, but those are the only high-pitched sounds I ever hear at work.
For the record, the coworker whom I’d had the dream about did not, in fact, meet his maker. He showed up right on time the next morning, looking very much alive. Still, it took me a solid hour to shake the feeling that I was looking at a ghost. I debated telling him about the dream, but ultimately decided against it. Why freak the guy out? Once, a few years ago, Tara admitted she’d had a dream about me.
“Oh, yeah, baby!” I replied, my mind automatically going there because that is typically where my mind goes.
“Not that kind of dream,” she replied, bursting my bubble. “I dreamed that you died.”
“Umm,” I said. “What?!”
“Yeah, it was weird. You were shot to death by a neighbor.”
Before I could even begin to comprehend the magnitude of such disturbing imagery, the other shoe dropped. My daughter, Audrey, said, “That’s funny. I had a dream a few nights ago that you died, too!”
The only thing funny is that she thought such an admission could be classified as “funny.”
“Don’t worry,” she added quickly, clearly noting the look of distress that crossed my face. “You weren’t shot in my dream!”
My relief was short-lived, however. Because a third and final shoe dropped.
“You were stabbed to death in mine,” she confessed.
I can’t begin to tell you how unnerved I was for about a week afterward. Not only had my life been cut short (quite literally) in two dreams within the span of a few nights, but my demise in each one was horrendous. I cry when I stub my toe or get a paper cut. The idea of being murdered by actual bullets or sharp blades nearly drove me over the edge. I watched my back extra carefully for a while, eyeing strangers with suspicion and loved ones with…
…well, more suspicion. Even briefly considered whether my wife and/or daughter might have it in for me. I’ve watched Dateline enough to know that most murders are committed by people you are close to. I wondered if maybe they were eyeing my sizable estate, but then remembered that my estate was the exact opposite of sizable. After that, I was able to fall asleep without keeping one eye open.
I’m happy to say I wasn’t actually cut down in the prime(ish) of life. But this is why I didn’t tell my coworker I’d dreamt of his rendezvous with the Grim Reaper, and why I advised my friend to keep her dream to herself, too.
On a much lighter note, I finally put some significant mileage on my car yesterday. After being cooped up for years days, I decided it was high time I actually went someplace other than [insert name of room here]. Tara was more than game, and the weather was beautiful, so we drove up to Sylvan Lake bright and early. Practically had the whole place to ourselves in the beginning.
We were somewhat surprised to see the whole thing still frozen over, but then again, much of Sylvan Lake is only ten feet deep and the elevation there is above 6,000′ so it’s not really a shock.
We ended up hiking the Needles Highway, which is still closed to traffic for the season. It was gorgeous: crystal-clear blue skies, trickling streams, chirping birds, fresh air, the scent of ponderosa pine perfuming the air, and silence so deep you could feel it. The pandemic and all its associated turmoil felt very far away for a few blissful hours.
There were fewer than 10 people we crossed paths with the entire time.
Here’s the infamous “eye of the needle.” You can probably figure out how it derived its name.
If I look excited here, it’s because I figured out this clever way of taking a selfie by strategically positioning my phone on a rock, setting a three-second timer, and scrambling into position before it went off, then readjusting the horizontal layout because the resulting photo was pretty crooked.
Only later did it occur to me that I could have simply asked Tara to take my picture…
Mark My Words 
Wow. Look at that gorgeous blue sky. Nice.
I guess I have to opposite dream issue. The dead reappear in my dreams. It turns out they aren’t dead after all, it was all a huge mistake. Then I wake up, and I lose them all over again.
Do not recommend.
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Sounds like a horrible kind of Groundhog Day…
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It’s weird when I dream of family…they are never actually visible, or in the frame, even though I know it’s them… 😐
Oh the selfie story…so funny. Those timers take a little getting used to. 😉
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I never even realized my phone had a self-timer until recently. All those times I struggled to take selfies in the past…stupid arm extended, trying to angle it just right…well. DUH! Game-changer for sure.
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So Mark, you really need to stop posting these amazing pictures of places that I would love to be at in person, since… well I can’t be any time soon. Do I dare say this could be considered cruel 😉
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LOL. I can’t help it; I’m like a walking tourism billboard!
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The sky in your photos is an amazing color of blue. Wistful and encouraging to me. A person who lately has been going nowhere faster than my normal not going anywhere fast. Trippy dreams, btw. I’d be freaked, too.
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The crazy thing is, by afternoon it was overcast, windy, and a lot cooler. Definitely paid off to get an early start!
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I’m really enjoying your shares of blue sky photos, thank you.
Considering how you feel about your family dreaming your death, I think your decision to keep the death dream to yourself. Well, to us, but you know.
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Seemed prudent at the time! That was a few years ago and we are no longer coworkers, so I figured it was time to let the dead cat out of the bag.
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Yeah, good call, I’m certain.
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Awesome to have the Needles highway to yourself. I have fond memories of my kids at Sylvan Lake. I just really thought the rocks were cool, similar to those standing stones in places like Ireland.
I’ve had some strange dreams lately that I assume is due to lockdown!
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Sylvan Lake is far and away my favorite in the Black Hills. My memories involve cars driving onto the frozen lake in the winter! Which seems impossible, but it’s not a very deep lake…only 10′ in most spots. I’d feel better driving out there knowing that. Then again, they seem to have outlawed that practice nowadays.
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Mark, I love your reference to Fred Flintstone because that show (and The Jetsons) were my favorite cartoons. I love when his work whistle blew at the start of the show.
Wow…they both had dreams that you died? WOW!
But I have to share something with you since I was very much into studying dream interpretation years ago and discovered that contrary to what most people think about dying in a dream, it is actually a very good sign. Dying in dreams represents: a positive change, movement, growth.
Wonderful photographs! I still can’t get over the fact that you’ve had SNOW this month?!?
Love your red camera. Very cool!
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Dying in dreams represents: a positive change, movement, growth.
Whoa. Really?! I would never have guessed that…it’s the complete opposite of what you would expect death to signify. Thanks for sharing that, Ron! I guess that long-lost coworker of mine can expect monumental things to happen in his life now!
I love the camera, too. It’s a Nikon DSLR, so it already takes good photos. The color is just a bonus (and one other people have remarked on, too).
Yes, we got more snow. And yes, it melted quickly. I’m typing this comment in the backyard wearing shorts and flip-flops (and drinking wine). Gorgeous day today!
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There’s not telling your colleague about the dream because of WHAT you dreamed about them, and then there’s not telling because they might be weirded out THAT you dreamed about them. That’s why I rarely tell a colleague I dreamed about them.
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Spot-on! Any time I have a dream about a coworker (not often, but it does happen on occasion), I feel weird, too. And usually analyze the HELL out of those dreams. Once or twice a coworker has admitted to having a dream about me, and I always feel flattered, lol.
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Dreams are so strange. Sometimes you can tell exactly why you dreamed something (oh – it’s because of that commercial I saw yesterday, or something like that) and other times it’s straight outta left field.
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I recall hearing that all the faces we see in our dreams are real faces we’ve seen at least once. This makes me curious about what dreams were like for those in small, mildly isolated villages…
It’s awesome to live within reasonable distance to so many nice places! And it’s good those are still open.
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Ooh, that’s a Jack Handey deep thought if there ever was one! Also, kinda fascinating…
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