Saturday, February 4, 2017

(11/7/06) my brother's keeper

(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM at Starbucks on 56th Street and 6th Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream 1

My family all sat in some dark room like a theater in front of the stage, not on it. We were praying. But my brother, who was murderous and hung on a cross, kept screaming. He was trying to pull himself off the cross, which was on the right side of the proscenium (?), behind us as we prayed. He was trying to free himself so he could kill us.


I was outside, somewhere like a balcony, talking to an official. The official said certain pieces of mail my brother would receive would give him power to kill. These had been sent when my brother was sane. But now they had to be intercepted.

I was back inside the theater-like room. I held the pieces of mail in my hand. They were from the Air Force. It took some mental skill to force back the feeling that I should hand these pieces of mail to my brother. I walked past my brother. His hair was long and black and he wore a loincloth and a crown of thorns. The cross he hung on was dull, pine green trimmed in gold.

Somewhere nearby, on a small corner wall, perhaps, was a clearish, plastic cross with the top half of a wooden Jesus. Maybe even the top half of the cross was wooden. The  bottom half  looked like a mix between a dildo and a keychain and had a saying on it. The saying was very crude, making fun of Jesus.

My friend R and I had made this cross. I thought, It's because irreverence toward the spiritual that my brother has been cursed with murderous demons.

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