Fred G. Sanford

Late night at work, and I caught my first Uber.

I get to bed quickly, no dinner just my evening pill. My head hits the pillow and I’m settled and sleeping around 1:20AM.

One of the facets of being possibly psychic, and or having spirits visit in the middle of the night, is the temperature drop that only YOU can feel. Not totally convinced that my discomfort is being caused by a random entity lurking around somewhere in the darkness – I scan the shadows in my room, internally cursing the icy blast of air that’s keeping me awake. My wife is asleep, not even bothered by the cold. Mumbling to myself in my head, puzzled by the fact that the heat doesn’t even pop on – again leading me to believe the effect is localized, solely swimming around my body. 

I never see anything – just feel so cold… 

This dream is a little busy. Action, mixed with a puzzling amount of intrigue. Escape is the catalyst, putting me on edge, injecting me into the drama. We are trying to get through a mechanical wall, at this point I’m watching everything from the point of view of a drone, or spirit. A secret agent is carrying whatever device the others are trying to capture, his team is behind him as he punches in the code to release the secret lair “Blast” door. The heavy steel door opens just a  few feet from the ground, our “Agent” slides through like baseball player, jumps up runs to the back wall to hit the switch to slam the door shut.

My other team members are a little slow (from agent perspective) the door doesn’t close down on them, but they are enveloped in a beam of energy, by the expression on both men’s faces – the energy hurt, a lot. I had to keep them in the beam and extract them slowly and rather painfully, as the wall created a metal box cocoon around each man – AI meets nanotech. I cautioned both to hold on, just a few more seconds. Two rectangular metal pods eject from the wall, the beam collapses and the wall slams down. We’re safe for now…

I’m released from the dream, having escaped – solving the puzzle if you will; using intuition and creativity and utilizing what was not there at first, and knowing how to use whatever technology I dreamed up. I feel like the crushing energy beam is an artifact of watching “Loki” season 2 when I wake up (No spoilers).

Falling into another dream, shortly after waking up from my escape, put me in another work-related scenario. My manager was involved, only this time I had to bring a plastic bag full of mail or rolled up newspapers or blueprint plans to another manager. The location was my old building in the Bronx, I accepted the slightly awkward parcel and made my way through the dark stairwells trying to find the right floor to exit. The singular, dingy incandescent lightbulb at each landing, providing just enough lighting to keep you moving. My memory of the place is off, replaying the direction that I felt might bring me closer to the apartment. After moving around several floors, I exit the staircase and walk around the corner past the elevator bank and to the opposite stairwell – there in front of me was the apartment I was looking for.

The manager was waiting by the door, a lounge chair situated in the hallway – she looked different than her picture, strangely she reminded me of Mrs. B, my old neighbor – a younger version I would have never known. Handing the bag of paper rolls to the manager I call her by her by name and introduce myself as “Gabe”, at least I know who I am at this point. Her expression is mild puzzlement, accepting the parcel from me.

(Mrs. B passed away when I was young, the night she was taken into the Coroner’s van – I had the most terrible, vivid nightmare – one I shared with my older brother. I wasn’t pleased this morning having “Seen” her again)

Mission accomplished. With the package delivered and visitation over, I am released from this episodic conundrum. I have dream powers again. Moving through space/time like Spider-Man or even Tarzan – I feel myself swinging or vaulting around past and through dreams in order to settle into the next scenario, its almost like crashing through a holographic rolodex. A scene catches my attention, the beautiful woman is there. My arm reaches out and wraps around a metal bannister, my body slows and I slide down like I was on a Fireman’s or Stripper pole, my midriff and leg helping me glide to the floor inside my modern apartment.

The woman is outside, walking away – maybe just having left my place. I turn away from the front wall that is wood and glass in a diagonal pattern. Swanky pad? Admiring her shape as she crossed the street I look down and realize that I’m nude. Time for a shower. My muscularity isn’t lost on me in the dream – almost time to wake up as my conscious is putting two and two together. I walk across the apartment past a leather La-Z-Boy that swivels around. Fred Sandford is sitting in the chair (The character, not the actor) and he grabs my leg by the ankle before I make it over to the bathroom. I see him and say “Hey Pop, how are you feeling?” In a feeble and melodramatic voice he replies “Oh, still not feeling so good.” He’s decked out in his cable sweater and tartan cover over his legs, looking really beat down. After my shower I’ll take care of him, bring him soup or something. 

My consciousness brings me out. Fred looks nothing like my dad, and I don’t look like Lamont – nothing is adding up so I wake up.

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Gabe Miranda lives a stones throw from uptown Charlotte, enjoys Star gazing and creating chaos on Twitter. Currently working on editing diary posts to self publish his first book.