Re: (more) Indigenous Dreams -- 28 March 2000


   This afternoon I had a couple of neat dreams . . at a Presbyterian
church, meeting President Kennedy for a moment -- but he was in a
rush, the church gift shop of stuff seeming in the manner of Native
American sort of stuff -- taking special interest in a certain leaded
crystal item, and then back to sleep to the same place for scenes
having to do with the upcoming election campaign.  I’ll try to write
it up.

   After my post(s) yesterday, I was disgruntled on account of deja’s
spasticity and my own evident inability to perfectly correct things
my hands typed while my brain must have been distracted.  So I went
looking for a dream on another subject, in a file I haven’t perused
in a long time.  But I found these.

   Sun, 8 June 1997:

   Drm 1:  I was at a jetliner post-disaster site.  There was a native
(to the area) person whimpering.

   Drm 2:  I have a lease on a South Beach apartment.  There is one
month left of summer, and I’m not there in my apartment.  It’s like,
how did this all come about? I need to resolve the problem and get
into my apartment.
   (I think this *is* my only South Beach dream.)

   Drm 7:  The scene is in my hometown about eighteen blocks down the
street and around the corner at the street that continues to where
the 50 meter pool used to be five blocks further, where I was once a
lifeguard (a familiar route).  For a moment I am workout-running on
the sidewalk, and I see up ahead is a kid from the University of
Miami, who is on swim team and is a lifeguard there.  I realize my
foot is okay, I’m running on it without any pain.
   (For about two months now, one of my feet had been experiencing
stress induced injury with pain in the middle-bottom part, and I
couldn’t even stairmaster -- which was making me sad.  But over the
summer it got better.)


   Mon, 30 June 1997, Drm:  (vivid little scene)  I am watching the
ground along the alley side of the backyard chain-link fence.  (Some
years, this part gets included in the tomato garden.)  Little
disturbances in the soil catch my attention.  Intrigued, I see it’s
some little elephants climbing out.  These Indian elephants are about
seven inches tall, but proportioned realistically -- little trunks
and bobbing heads.  Yet, the soil disturbance spreads along the soil
surface . . and there’s many of the little creatures slipping out of
the soil, throughout the garden section.  But just as soon as they
climb out onto the ground, they scamper -- just like an elephant
really runs -- across the alley into cover in the opposite backyard.
Looking over to where they disappeared, I consider how there were 100
of these little elephants.
   (I suppose these would be regarded exogenous creatures, in this
geological age.  Yet, this land was once the home of the greatest
elephants of all history.  In the building between my residence hall
(one semester) and the football stadium in Lincoln, stands the
largest elephant (fossilized) skeleton ever found.)

   That evening, Morgan Fairchild is on a shopping channel -- selling
like room decoration accessory things.  Right then in that brief time
I stop to watch her, she’s selling a leaded crystal elephant.  The
crystal elephant is the size of, just the same as, the cute little
dream ones.


   Sun, 2 February 1997, Drm:  I’m in a room with a couple, or so, of
autistic kids.  A girl is off to my left, but I’m observing the boy
. . . when he clearly verbalizes a simple statement, like just for me
as if channeled from the spirit world.  And I go, “What!? . . What
did you say? . . .”  I hoped for verification, something more.  But it’s
like he is then again oblivious to the world in which we are
physically existent.


   *    *    *    *    *    *

Reply to: angel_marvelzombie@yahoo.com