(4/25/05) don't shoot my wife; ten lines; subterranean hangar; morning meeting; nuclear burlap; videotapes and library books

(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 AM at home in Harlem.)

Dream 1

I was possibly in some house where there was a killer. It was dark. A whole group of people were in panic. I now saw a husband and wife sitting in the backseat of a car. A spotlight shined on them. Then someone shot the woman in the face. Apparently it had been the cops who had shot.

After the wife was shot, the man screamed and cried, "No! Not us! That's my wife! My wife! Don't shoot her!"

I saw, in the spotlight, the side of the car behind the back side window. There was a large "Thunderbird" decal.

I was now driving up a winding mountain road with my mom and sister. We were all sad because we were going to a funeral. My mom told us how the person or two people had died. I burst into tears. I could barely control my breath.

My mom said, "What's wrong? Did you dream of something like this happening?"

I cried, "Yes!" But when I tried to remember the dream, I didn't know if I had dreamed it at all after actually seeing it all or even if I was still dreaming.

Dream 2

Someone held something that looked like a candle before my eyes. From the bottom of the candle came smallish roots, like at the bottom of wild onions, but longer. At the bottom of one of these roots grew a potato.

All this time I heard my mom talking about how she couldn't find some item for the longest time, but how some person came into her life and found the item right away.

I now had a small piece of paper before me. I counted ten lines. That was significant. I couldn't believe it. So I started to count again.

Dream 3

I had either arrived somewhere on an airplane or had arrived and was waiting to leave again immediately or was waiting for someone to arrive. I was with my mom and my great-grandmother A.

The plane wasn't quite on time. My mom and grandma explained that this type of plane could only fly when enough people were on it to give it weight for momentum. The number 3,000 was key somehow.

We were way down below ground in some place like a subterranean hangar. I could see people and suitcases in the plane, hanging off of some kind of revolving belt machine in the belly of the plane.

Dream 4

My Americorps crew met our chief SM at some place deep in the heart of Brooklyn. It was still dark outside. We were now driving up to our usual meeting spot (i.e. Morningside Park). We still had to be there at 7:30 AM (though, not noticing the discrepancy, I'd looked at the clock to see that it said 7:52 or 7:53).

I called BA, the Americorps program leader, on my cell phone. I asked if from now on we could do the morning meeting thing more efficiently.

Dream 5

I was part of a group of peasants in a country town that almost looked medieval. The richer citizens had either evacuated the town or were just not letting themselves be seen by the peasants. We peasants had a horse-drawn cart and a maroon van. We were going through the dirt trail town picking peasants up to leave the town.

A nuclear war was beginning here. We even knew we might not have a chance of escaping. The richer citizens might not have known about the nuclear bomb attack.

We were all quite cheerful. Some of us wore burlap-style clothes. Others wore modern clothes. We went past one house, which looked modern. One peasant, with no legs, agilely rushed out of the house and cheerfully got into the van. Another guy, sitting at a computer, said, "Go on! I have more business to take care of. I'll drive on out there."

Something blinked out. When it blinked back in, I was a burlap-clad child in the back of the cart. We were going across a bridge of thin wood, over a small bank and shallow creek. In the distance was a small, rounded mountain.

I felt like flinching all the time. I knew the bombs were on their way.

Something blinked out. When it blinked back in I read from a book, "At the very first instant of the strike only the ground tinted orange."

Dream 6

I had left some movie midway through though I had really wanted to see it. My mom had given me videotapes on which the movie was recorded.

I went to some nice house in the woods that I got to house-sit for a little while. As I approached I saw some kids in the trees, apparently having a good time but also in some minor argument. Seeing me, they yelled, "There's XXXXX! Let's ask him! He'll know!"

I tried to hide the tapes. I had taught these children an environmental lesson which apparently went against the use of these tapes.

A kid asked, "Should we pick up garbage like this?" He pointed to a broken glass bottle.

I said, "No. Only pick up the not dangerous stuff. Leave the rest alone."

I was impressed that the kids had gone out picking up garbage of their own accord.

I went inside. I sat the tapes down in some room. I looked at a book on a shelf. I thought, Maybe I'll read that tonight. But then I realized the book was overdue. I then tried to figure out if it really was overdue.

Finally I realized that this whole shelf was library books. This was part of the library. There were even multiple copies of the book in question. I now tried to decide if I would check out the book.

(6/15/05) roman forum; lucidity in the nuclear bus stop

(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM at home in Harlem.)

Dream 1

I walked down into an area like a Roman forum or plaza. There was a pond/pool in the center. I faced the pool. Behind me was a wide, stone floor that ended in a short series of stairs sweeping up to a covered and columned area. While down by the pool I shook hands with someone and discussed something I don't remember.

I then walked up to the covered area. There was a chain link fence and some kind of stone banister. I stood there with somebody, possibly my NYC Americorps crew chief SM, possibly discussing a CD.

Dream 2

Nuclear war had been declared. My crew chief SM had a pickup truck. We were exactly at the spot where the bomb was going to land. SM was loading up his truck. I feel like he was talking about going to a shelter that was way too close to the bomb.

I think I told SM to choose a shelter farther away. In my head I could see different layers of color, yellow being the "hottest" and red the "coldest," from the center of the blast (which was in a suburban area). When I saw how far the colors went I was hopeless that any shelter would help.

Now there was another man, who looked like my crewmate BSC, loading up a Subaru station wagon with supplies. I looked in the back of his car. It was full of what looks like pound cake covered with chunks of cream cheese.

BSC said something like he had to go pick up more people. I asked if I could come with him. I sat in the seat behind the front seat. The car had a front seat, a middle seat, a back seat, and then a back area, for loading things.

People were already in the car. I looked behind me. There was a guy who looked like he was a clean-cut Christian with a modern look. At some point we picked up another guy who wore a white button-up shirt and a black tie but had maroon, spiked/waved hair, piercings, and wore makeup.

We stopped and got out and did something I don't remember. When we got back in one person was missing. I said, "Hey, we're driving off without that Christian guy."

I looked behind me and saw the Christian guy. He looked different. I said, "I didn't mean Christian in a bad way," even though I actually had.

He said, "That's okay. I'm not that much of a Christian."

I saw it was the maroon-haired guy who was gone.

But now we were driving through a completely different area of town. The guy driving was both BSC and SM. He was driving to a shelter I knew was worthless. It was shallow and weak. I knew another shelter that was farther away, deeper, and full of supplies. But nobody wanted to listen to me.

We now stopped. Everybody ran into a Greyhound-like bus station. I didn't know why. I followed them. But they ran too fast. The place was full, and the people I was with disappeared behind a group of people.

I stopped. Everybody around me was black. They all looked homeless, insane, thin, and violent. They all wore thick layers of winter clothing. I may have asked one of the folks where my group had gone. But I got no answer.

I regarded one of the people directly. Something about that made me realize I was dreaming. I was lucid. I remained calm to keep my lucid dream stable.

I walked to another person. I knelt beside him and looked at him. I said, "This is a dream. Do you know that you're part of a" (or "my"?) "lucid dream?" The person very uncomfortably shook his head a tiny bit and then squirmed his body away from me in his chair.

So I looked at the person next to him and said, "But you realize it, don't you?" That person squirmed grotesquely away from me as well. It scared me.

I realized that somehow this "bus stop" was an asylum. I stood and walked for a door. The door was guarded by a big, white cop.

I was still happy to be having a lucid dream. In my happiness I tried to fly, doing the "knee-jump" method (a method I'd learned for inducing flight in lucid dreaming from some book I'd read in waking life). But I just skipped. I calmed down and walked a few steps near the cop so he wouldn't think I was insane, too, and try and stop me from leaving.

I walked to the exit, a double set of automatic, sliding glass doors. The sun was bright, golden-tan outside. I was afraid to go out. I felt like my mind (!) wouldn't be good enough to create a reality outside and that I would be in a stupid, featureless, disappointing nowhere, no place better than my closed eyelids.

As I opened the doors I woke up. I wrestled with waking up, telling myself not to be afraid. The sun flooded my eyes. I wanted to continue in my lucid dream. But I was already waking up.