(4/14/08) jets and highway murder

(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was watching a television show about jets. Then it was like I was actually in a plane, looking down on the jets as the narrator discussed them. My brother was with me. I pointed out each jet to him.

We would gain altitude to reach each new grouping of jets. I was afraid of gaining so much altitude, but I didn't show it, and I was happy to see the jets up so close.

I pointed out one of my favorites to my brother, one called the Skylab. It had three wings in a triangular configuration and a sloping nose. There was another large plane that flew alongside it. After that was a "scout plane" with a disc-like or flying-saucer-like front end. My brother didn't seem to be interested in any of these jets.

I had seen this whole progression of jets before, on television, and I knew there would be a last jet to follow, which would head straight up into the sky. I hoped we would follow this jet soon.

But now my brother and I were in a car on a highway, in a shallow recess between two slopes. As we approached a bridge that passed over the road we were on, I looked out my side of the car (the right side?) and saw a little, Hispanic boy (or girl?). We must have been driving at normal speed. But now it seemed like we were driving at a walking pace. The little, Hispanic child had been killed. His arms and legs were taped together. Beside the child were various cultic objects, like candles.

I wanted to get out of the car to tend to the dead child, but I thought it wouldn't be smart. The people who had killed the child might still be around. This might be a trap.

As we passed under the bridge I saw the rest of the family lying in the dirt. They all were also all dead and taped up. There also seemed to be a table and food, all overturned, like this had been the family's house. The mother's eyes were open, and it was like she was looking at me. I thought, I've never seen a dead body before.

I might have been driving the car. I told my brother to call 911. I gave my brother my cell phone. We had called 911 and gotten to a turnoff from the highway into a part of a turn like an industrial park.

I now thought I needed to head back to where we had come from. Somebody was supposed to arrive here after us, but I wanted to get to them and warn them that the might have trouble doing so.

But when I tried to get back onto the highway, a female police officer stopped me. The highway had been closed, the officer explained, while the murder of the Hispanic family was being investigated.

(9/14/09) exonerated

(Entered in dream journal at 9:41 AM at Whole Foods on Houston and Broadway in Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was with a group of people out on a lawn at night. Across the lawn from us was something like a covering for the pump island of a gas station. To our right was a building. We may have actualy stood at the edge of the lawn, possibly on beige gravel. A small amount of whitish light came from somewhere, possibly from the moon somewhere in the sky.

I and some other man were under investigation for the shooting of one of our co-workers, FF. FF had known something about us, some improper thing we had done at work. He was going to report us. So we had him shot. He was shot twice, but he lived.

Now there was a big truck, almost the size of a semi-truck, parked pointed out of the pump island. FF may have been in the truck or on the hood of the truck. He had gotten shot, but he was still alive. My co-worker and I hadn't shot FF; we'd hired someone to shoot him. The police had traced the shooting to the man we'd hired. It was understood (even though we saw him at the pump island) that FF was in the hospital, probably telling the police things.

But now we found out that the man we had hired had gotten shot himself, as the result of having pulled a smart-ass prank on some group of people. With his death, the blame for the shooting had stopped at him. We were let go.

I was riding in a car like an SUV (?) with a woman, possibly my sister, driving. It was dark outside. We may even have been driving with our headlights off. Small ridges of hill-sections (cut to let the road through) passed in deep shadow beneath a purple-black sky.

I suddenly remembered my book bag, which was new. I'd left it back at the lawn. I needed to go back and get it, although I knew that if I returned for it I might again be implicated in the shooting.