Dream Journal 6-6-2009
This is an ongoing dream journal tracking dreams over a 20 year period. Disclaimer: Any reference made to a person living or dead is purely the work of my subconscious and should be taken lightly. I have omitted last names to protect the innocent.
In my dream I am falling asleep. As I begin to drift off I hear what I believe is a spaceship outside the window. The blinds are pulled, but I hear the sound of it lifting off vertically.
Suddenly I am working late. Too late to catch the concert. I am heading home and my car breaks down in a strange part of town.
I eventually make it home again, but the place I arrive at is unfamiliar. A mysterious chef works with an assistant in a translucent room.
Now I am back in High School. I see Lee J. He is one of the few African American kids in my school. He seems stuck in place while the rest of us are being compelled to file down the halls. A strange force urges me to move with this crowd as they seem to be moving towards the front office.
Now, even the toughest kids seem frightened. We continue to be herded, but now everyone is stripped down to their underpants.
I break out of the line and step outside. I see Liz dressed as the Fonz. She is wearing blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a leather jacket. Her hair is very short and also 1950’s flavored. She has painted freckles onto the top of her nose. I tell her to be careful “they’ve de-pants us all.”
Now, I am slipping out of the gates of the school on a very dark night. I see there has been another shooting at the Huddle House. This alarms me, so I pick up the pace.
I am looking for an easy street to travel on. The sidewalks seem dodgy. I look up and see a single window on a bare concrete house. Two men inside thrown down a ladder. One side is unhinged making it difficult for them to move down it. I wonder “do these guys even want me here?”
At that moment I remember there is a letter in my pocket. I reach inside and pull out a wad of crumpled paper. Before I can read it I see what appears to be a Woman with bright red hair with the lower torso of a Banyan tree. I awkwardly offer a comment about how the vibrant red hair takes the focus off the twisted trunk. While waiting for her to respond I see a pile of mail. I recognize my name and friends Matt and Trey. I see these letters reference the band Handpuppet, so I snatch them and leave.
Now I am back in my bedroom. Stephanie tells me the dream is over, but then a fight breaks out outside our window. The same blinds that hid the alien spaceship taking off now obscure my view of this midnight brawl.
Stephanie is scared and tucked away under the bed. I see other people in the neighborhood fleeing. I open the door. Two soldiers enter and shoot me.
