Saturday, February 4, 2017

(10/28/06) start wire head injury; my articulate, angry nephew

(Entered in paper journal at 9:30 AM at Ozzie's coffee shop in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I was somewhere like a library. There were a bunch of mean kids around. I didn't want to mess with me with them. The library was wide and spacious. I levitated about as high as I would be off the ground if I were riding a skateboard. Somehow that made the kids notice me less. But some who did made me even more of a target, or were about to.

The library became a wide open plaza, pink cobblestone, with some shops and then a broad, wide walk out to the ocean (or a big river?). I levitated a little higher and lined myself up with the walkway. I landed.

I planned to lift up somewhat high and speed myself all the way down the walkway. For some reason I had only been able to levitate to certain heights, proportional to how much space I had around and before me. But I knew if I wanted to stop being a target for these kids, I had to levitate high and move fast. Plus -- it was just a simple pleasure to feel the height and speed.

But somehow when I blasted myself upward, I hit some wire which I called a "start wire." It was clear and plasticky, possibly somehow glassy. Standing on this wire, I had to put on my clothes.

But I must have been pulling to levitate, too, because the wire was shaking up and down uncontrollably. When I tried to put my pants on, the wire acted so wild that I was tossed around in all directions. I couldn't see or get my bearings. Everything was a jumble.

I knew that either the wire would break or I wouldn't be able to hold onto it sooner or later, and that I would either be thrown in the air or at the ground. Either way, 'd hit the ground. I just hoped I'd get thrown into the air so I might control my spin somewhat and break my fall a little. But that didn't happen. The cord snapped, and I rocketed straight to the ground head-first.

I came to at night. I was by a shop. Some friends (?) were tending to my head wound. My head, the back right portion, I believe, was completely smashed open. My friends had dressed my wound, but my brain was damaged.

There was another person in front of the shop. (The front of the shop was curved inward, as if it faced a circle.)


The other man was on the left side of the curve. I was on the right. The friends divided to tend to each of us, and some would go back and forth between us.

There was some plan to replace brain in each of us using portions of brain from the other. But I didn't want this to happen -- I didn't want to have any of that guy's brain in my head -- I wanted my own kind of intelligence.

Besides, that man seemed to have a horrible head injury, and the same treatment being applied to both of us implied that I also had that kind of injury. I took that to mean that I had been made stupid. I hoped this wasn't true. And so I hoped that it would be discovered my head injury wasn't that bad after all.

Dream 2

A department store like Kmart. I was behind my mom and my second oldest nephew J as they walked don the "aisle," but I wasn't really there. J was speaking surprisingly articulately, but he only spoke one or two words. I could feel the words in my ears.

J was so angry. He was almost to the point of violence. My mom (who may have become my great grandmother A) had to pull him into one of the clothing rack areas. I watched from the "aisle." J had a huge newspaper (the New York Times?) in his arms. The paper almost as big as he. He was tearing the paper apart violently, although my mom's/grandma's move to the move to the rack area had calmed him down enough to stop him from shouting the one or two words.

Finally J chaneled his anger and spoke almost preternaturally articulately. He pointed to another section of the store, a display shelf of jeans (?), to a fat woman. He made it clear that if this woman kept coming at him he would not control his anger -- he would attack!

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