what was that?

 Dreamland it is not

    I went to bed a little late last night.  I had a slight problem getting to sleep.  I had coffee during the day, a little cola at night, and a lot of water.

    Sleep came eventually.

    But then I began to dream.

    I hatet to do this, because my dreams sometimes are very intense.  But I am going to tell as much as I can.

    First, I don't know if I was in the dream or someone else.  I am going to assume it was me, but only 1 person called me by name.  I never saw myself in the dream.

    Second, there was a girl in the dream (it's always about a girl) but she did not have a name.  In fact, none of the people in the dream had names except one person near the end.

    Ok..dream explanation as best I can recall.

    I was dead.  I was in heaven, I think.  It was a beautiful place.  My family was there, except my mother looked like Edward G. Robinson  with a bad wig.  Go figure.

    I was in love with a little blond girl.  Maybe I should say short, as little has kind of a creepy connotation.  She looked like Kristen Chenowith, (I know that is not spelled correctly) but with a short hair cut.

    For some reason, we had the chance to return to life.  There was a huge celebration for us going back, but her family was faking it and my mother did not say a word.

    I woke up with tears in my eyes and a coffee bladder.

    When I went back to bed, the dream continued!  

    I was sent to a classroom where there were 20 or so people sitting at computers.  It was a classroom for news writing and everyone was working on the same story:  A plane landing in LA hit a Toyota van that was near the runway, killing 6 people in the van.

    Each reporter student had an instructor standing over them.  I did not.  Neither did the love of my post life.

    We were waiting for a portal to life to open.  But when it opened, we were back with family and friends at the party.

    The portal opened.  I was to go first, with a huge cart of my personal belongings, and the LOMPL (love of my post life). would follow in 15 minutes.  That way all the spirits would not be reappearing in the same place at the same time.

    As I went through the tunnel of the portal, my cart kept getting smaller until my possessions were in a back pack and I was standing on a busy street corner.

    I waited for the 15 minutes.  She did not appear.  I waited a long time, but she never came.  So I got on a bus.

    Meanwhile, back at the celebration, she tried to leave but the gate to the portal was coming down.  She got partially under it and was trapped.  Because she could not go forward, or back, she was transformed into an owl.

    Bathroom break number 2.

    I went back to bed.  I was now in a type of prison.  The prison was high on a cliff, and there were no barriers  so e could walk out almost to the cliff edge and stare at the water churning below.

    An old, old, old woman stood on her part of the cliff and called me by name.  I called her by name, which was Irene.  This was the only time in the dream I heard names.

    As I was in prison, comfort animals were brought in.  Dogs, cats...and an owl.  The owl immediately came to me.  It mentally communicated to me and I cried tears of joy and sorrow.

    When I got up for break 3, I had tears running down thy face.

    Going back to bed, I told the person in charge that the owl was the LOMPL and explained how she became an owl.

    He left and returned with a type of gas mask, and had us put it on.  Even Irene had to put one on.

    Things get a little confusing at this point. (Really?  TD, you lost me at the first bathroom break.)

    Some sort of fog, or gas, overcame us and when it passed, the LOMPL and I were in a sun filled meadow, holding each other tighly.

    And I woke up, crying AGAIN!

    I know dreams are influenced by real life.  Yes, I had started watching The Good Place on Netflix.  Yes I thad. talked to a friend whose mother was 107 years old.  True.  107!  I can't imagine that.  But she is.

    And I am sort of stuck on a van crash in Wisconsin last week that killed 9 people.

    But I don't think I have ever had a dream that caused me to cry more than once, or that took place over several bathroom breaks.

    Perhaps spicy food was not a good option.

    The whole dream seems to not have an ending.  Perhaps we were like Adam and Eve in the garden, or the Engalls family on the prairie.  

    I think that is the reason my sleep is so disturbed at night.  My dreams tend to be colorful and bizarre, and my sleep patters reflect that.   Along with the coffee.

Peace and Love