Saturday, May 30, 2015

This is Home, Part 48 - Jean's driving lesson

This is part 48 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004. The end of the second paragraph refers to a trip back to Missouri that my mother took with my brother, in October of 1997. Charley, who appears several paragraphs further on, was an old farmhand who had been with them on the farm for a long time.



Jean's driving lesson

When Jean got old enough, Uncle Doc took her out in the car to teach her how to drive, just as he had taught me. They were gone quite awhile and Mom and I were wondering where they were.

Finally, we saw Jean walking over the rise in the same pasture we saw when we were back there, David.

Mom was saying, "I wonder what happened. Where is Uncle Doc? Why do you suppose she is walking and by herself?"

Uncle Doc didn't come, so we were really worried. When we asked her, she said that he was looking at the car down close to where the mailbox used to be. The car was in the ditch.

When Uncle Doc came back he said he was going to get someone to take him to Jacksonville so he could make arrangements to have the garage there tow the car in for repair.

He said Jean had driven through Darksville at sixty miles per hour looking the other way instead of at the road. She didn't listen to him.

The Darksville-Huntsville road was also graveled and gravel can slide.

One time when I was driving, I scared Charley to pieces. I was driving on the road to Jacksonville. Charley wanted me to slow down. The bridge that rumbled was coming up and it was only wide enough to accommodate one car at a time. Besides, there was a curve just past it. There were thick trees on each side of the road and any car coming toward us could not be seen before crossing the bridge.

I told him that I wasn't going too fast to stop and anyway there wasn't another car there. About that time another car came around the curve and onto the bridge. Charley yelled and leaned to the side.

I managed to stop just short of the bridge and a little toward the side of it. I slowed down after that and I always took the bridge slowly.

Country roads are made for one car at a time. If you meet another one, you both have to move toward the ditch on your side in order to pass each other.

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Saturday, October 04, 2014

This is Home, Part 42 - Edgar, Edgar and the flat, marriage and Edgar

This is part 42 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004. The "Charley" referred to in the beginning was Charles, a young man who was also dating my mother (and later married her). The Charley several paragraphs down was the old farmhand.



Edgar

When Edgar came home after Korea, he was really thin. He said the flour had bugs in it and he couldn't eat it. He was ordering milk, instead of Coke like he usually did. I remember sitting with him in a tiny eating place in Huntsville while the jukebox kept playing "Charley, My Boy" over and over. He said, "I just can't seem to get rid of that guy."

Another time when we had a date, there was ice and snow on the roads. It was afternoon when he came. He parked in the road by the mailbox so he wouldn't block the wagon road along the end of the front yard.

He reached out his hand to help me walk and get into the car when we got there. But, no, not me, I acted like an idiot and instead of letting him help me, I pulled away, then started walking down the embankment. My shoes shot out from under me and I slid down the embankment and part way under his car.

He rushed over, trying to keep from laughing (and not doing a very good job of it) and said, "Are you all right?"

This time I was happy for him to help me. I should have let him hold my hand like he usually did.

Edgar and the flat

Another time we sat in the car and talked until it was quite late. Finally, he kissed me goodnight at the porch door and left.

The next morning, Daddy, Uncle Doc and Charley came back laughing from feeding the cattle, and said they had seen Edgar since I had. He had a flat tire down where the mailbox used to be. He couldn't get the jack to work and he didn't want to wake anyone up because it was so late. So he had just stayed in his car.

They helped him change his tire.

Marriage and Edgar

Once, Edgar and I were talking about what we were going to do after we were married. I told him that I didn't want to move away from Mom, Daddy and Uncle Doc. I said they were getting old.

Edgar looked worried and said he didn't want to leave his folks. He said they were getting old, too, and they would need someone.

We decided to stay there and live close to everyone so we could help them.

Edgar got along with everyone, including Jean. He treated her like a little sister. He was a genuinely nice person. We didn't argue and our ideas were pretty close together. We had the same sense of humor.

I became good friends with his sister, Louise. We wrote to each other for years. He had two sisters and two brothers. I don't know if Louise or Howard was the oldest. Mildred was a few years older than Edgar. James was younger.

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Thursday, September 25, 2014

This is Home, Part 41 - Darksville Church, Easter Service

This is part 41 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.



Darksville Church

The name of the Darksville Church was Mount Shiloh Baptist Church. It was a missionary church and sent people overseas to preach.

Jean and I were going fairly regularly. Mom, too. Mom was a Methodist. There was a small Methodist church on the way to Jacksonville. Rev. Haney had services there sometimes during the summer months. I liked him because he didn't yell; he just talked.

Anyway, Jean joined the Darksville Church. When she went forward to acknowledge her belief in Jesus as the Son of God and that she wanted to be saved, they kept playing "Just As I Am" and waiting for me to go forward. I wasn't about to do that. Afterwards, several people told me they were praying for me.

Jean was baptized in Lee Webster's father's pond. I would never have done that -- for one thing I am afraid of bodies of water. I did not trust the minister not to drop me and I can't swim. Another thing, most of the skirts that I wore were wool -- they would have fit a doll after getting wet. None of them were washable.

Every time I went after that, they played "Just As I Am," over and over. Not only did everyone watch me, the people in our row moved back so I could get out easy.

I stubbornly stood there and did nothing. I don't like being pushed. Besides, I thought it had to be my feeling that made me go forward. How could I be "saved" if they pushed me into it? I stopped going after a few times of this.

I talked to Rev. Haney years later. He asked what I believed and I told him that I believed that Jesus was the Son of God who had come in order for people who believed in Him to be able to go to Heaven after they died. He said it is belief in Jesus as the Savior, the Son of God, that saves people -- not the church. He told me I was saved.

He also said I should be baptized and join a church so it would serve as a witness to others that I did believe. However, he said the church wasn't absolutely necessary. He was a Methodist.

Easter Service

Jean and I decided to go to church one Easter morning. I must have been in college at that time, because I was driving. The roads were very muddy and the East Fork may have been out, because we decided to take the road past Roscoe's, which would bring us farther north of Darksville than usual.

Anyway, there was a little church with a graveyard behind it just beyond Roscoe's. There must have been infrequent services at the church, because no one was there.

Just a little way past the church, I managed to get the car stuck with the front wheels in a muddy hole. I tried to make it jump out of it but it wasn't working.

Jean and I were all dressed up in new jackets, new Easter hats, new shoes and hose.

People always wore hats, dressy dresses, high heels and hose to church back then. If they wore coats or jackets, they also wore gloves. Our age group only wore hats on special occasions. I usually wore skirts and blouses. Sometimes I wore dresses when I had a date with Edgar.

I finally gave up with the car when it wasn't doing anything. I looked at my high heels and looked at the mud.

I don't actually remember walking in the mud, so maybe Roscoe rescued us.

Uncle Doc had to have a new clutch put in the car. I had burned it out.

I learned later that something such as parts of brush (twigs and sticks, etc.) need to be placed in front of the wheels to give them traction.

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Sunday, January 12, 2014

This is Home, Part 33 - Learning to drive

This is part 33 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.



Learning to drive

When I was sixteen, Uncle Doc wrote to Jefferson City and got a driver's license for me. I didn't learn to drive until I was eighteen or nineteen. Girls didn't have cars in those days. They borrowed the family car. So did boys until they could earn enough money to buy one.

Uncle Doc taught me how to drive. I remember one time he said, "Where are you looking, Maudie?" I told him I was looking right in front of the car. He said no, look ahead so you will know what the road is like and what is happening there. He told me to look straight down the middle of my side.

Of course, he also laughed when I was trying to drive up a steep hill in Huntsville. It had a stop sign part way up and after I stopped, I couldn't get the car to go forward. When I tried to go forward, it slid back. So I put one foot on the brake. Then when I pushed on the gas, the car just roared and didn't move. I still wouldn't be able to get that car up that hill.

The car had a clutch, a brake, a starter, and a gas pedal. The gear shift was on the steering wheel. I just feel like shuddering when I think of it. Uncle Doc had to drive up the hill, and he didn't have a problem.

Another time, when we drove by a telephone repairman climbing a pole, Uncle Doc laughed and said, "Look, Maudie, he saw you coming."

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Friday, October 18, 2013

This is Home, Part 28 - Electricity, mail, Mom shopped, the lunch counter, crops, gardens and pesticides, no irrigation, the plane in the pasture

This is part 28 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.



Electricity

President Roosevelt's rural electrification program worked. Somewhere around my Freshman year, we got electricity, as did our neighbors. The white light was lovely compared to the yellow lamp light.

Mail

The men had moved the mailbox up by the garage. The carrier came by in his Model A. I used to run out and get the mail and he started holding out Edgar's letter to me and saying, "He sent you a letter today."

Sometimes, when it was cold and bad, the mail carrier would come into the house, sit by the fire awhile, and have a cup of coffee and talk.

Edgar and I used air mail stamps on our letters. They were five cents. A regular stamp was three cents.

Mom shopped

Sometimes, Uncle Doc would take mom to town while we were at school. When we got home, we would find new skirts and blouses on our beds. Sometimes, we would have sweater sets instead. Socks, too, with either.

I liked -- and still like -- wool skirts because they fit well and feel good. Of course, they had to be dry cleaned.

The lunch counter

When I was in college, I had a friend, Nancy, who worked at a pharmacy. They had a lunch counter she worked behind. I used to eat there everyday. I could get a grilled pimento cheese sandwich or a ham salad for fifteen cents and a Coke for five cents. No tax. Sometimes, I would have the chicken salad sandwich for 20 cents plus a Coke for five cents.

Things were a lot cheaper then, but income was less.

Crops, gardens and pesticides

Crops and gardens were never sprayed with anything on either farm. No other farmer in our area sprayed crops, either. The noise of a plane close to the ground and a cloud of what looks like dust is not something one could hide.

The soil on the big farm was very acid. Sometimes -- years apart -- Daddy would lime the fields to improve the soil. I can only remember this happening three times, but it could have happened when I was gone.

Actually, I think the acid soil was responsible for the beautiful color of the flowers and how well everything grew.

Daddy planted more grass in the yard for several years, then waited a few years. He had a sort of sack-like thing with a strap over the opposite shoulder that he put seed in and threw it out by hand as he walked around the yard. The yard was planted with bluegrass and some other grass. I keep thinking rye, but the description in the dictionary doesn't sound anything like the grass we had. The grass was very tender, cool blades that were single. It actually felt soft. The yard was covered with grass. So were the pastures.

No irrigation

There was also no irrigation. Water was provided by the frequent rains.

We had a changeable, capricious weather pattern. There was a saying back there: "If you don't like the weather, wait a while and it will change."

The plane in the pasture

One summer day, a small private plane landed on the rise in the pasture. This was the pasture between the house and the mailbox. The side David and I saw.

The men must have seen it come down, because by the time the pilot walked to the house, they were all coming into the yard. They got the container or containers of gasoline the pilot needed and he invited all of us to come see his plane. So we all walked over in the pasture with him and admired the plane.

See, one never knows what interesting thing will happen on a farm! I must have been in late grade school or early high school at that time.

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Sunday, July 14, 2013

This is Home, Part 21 - Uncle Doc fixed tires, Mom curled our hair, Tangee, the Toni

This is part 21 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.



Uncle Doc fixed tires

Uncle Doc used to do some repair I thought was interesting. I don't know that this was something that would especially be done during war time. I think it was probably just something necessary when one lived out of town.

Uncle Doc used to take off the car's flat tire. Then he took the inner tube out of it. He put water in one of the large galvanized tubs and put the inner tube in it. He had to keep pushing it down; it wanted to float. When he held it down, there would be bubbles of air from the puncture.

Uncle Doc had a tire repair kit with a light weight metal thing about the size of a flash light. It had metal pieces sticking out on one end that he rubbed over the puncture, then he put glue from a tube in the kit on one of the patches and glued it on. Of course, the inner tube had to be taken out of the water and dried before it could be patched. After the glue dried, the inner tube could be put back in the tire and the tire put on.

Mom curled our hair

Sometimes Mom used to curl our hair before we went to school. She had a metal curling iron. This was before we got electricity, so it was during grade school.

The curling iron was longer than the ones used today. The curling iron had a long rounded (like a pencil) part that the lock of hair was wrapped around, then had a long curved piece that fit halfway around the rounded part. It had handles that resembled handles of scissors.

Mom would open the curling iron and put the rounded part and the part that fit over it carefully into the opposite sides of the lamp chimney. The heat from the lamp flame would heat the iron. It cooled fast, so she had to keep heating it.

My hair uncurled itself in a short time.

Tangee

We had a very interesting first lipstick. It was called Tangee. It was a small tube like the ones used on the large Barbie faces by Patricia, Sharon, and Christina. However, Tangee was for girls, not dolls.

When we put it on it felt like Chapstick does and had a faint orange tint. We found out that the more we put on, the more color our lips had. However, we still had just a small amount of color.

This was in grade school. In high school I had a medium red lipstick. I think Jean had a different shade.

The Toni

There used to be an ad in magazines showing twin young women with curly hair, with the question: "Which twin has the Toni?"

A Toni was a permanent one could give oneself. Jean and I liked the twins' hair, so sometimes during the summer Mom would give each of us a Toni. We sat out on the concrete top or steps of the well from which they got drinking water, to dry our hair. We loved the soft curly hair that resulted from Mom's work.

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Sunday, July 01, 2012

Dream - The man with the leatherlike fishlike head

On Thursday, August 26, 2010, around 8:00-11:50 AM, I had an interesting dream. I don't remember a lot of the beginning, though I think my father was in it in some way, and maybe my mother too. It seems the earlier part of the dream was in Arizona, at least some of it a little outside the Phoenix area, or at least the most populated parts of it.

Then I looked different, perhaps fiftyish, but with a totally different face and body. I'm not sure where I was, somewhere in Nevada or Arizona I think, maybe in Nevada near the Arizona border. It was daytime. I had come to an area where I had had something going on. I was going along a miles wide strip of land between a small road and a canal, with mountains in the background. The land had lots of vegetation, brush and small trees, and some somewhat faded wispy tall grass. I was apparently raising cattle there, or some other animal. I drove along, following the migration of the animals, and started spraying from a huge broad nozzle, with a thick, very sturdy hose, something that would almost stay in position by itself in the air. The streams came out as though from a broad flat brush, because of the broad flat nozzle with multiple openings. I was worried about it not raining enough the last few months, and the vegetation getting too dry, and there not being enough water for the animals.

A little later, a late middle-aged man with a strange leatherlike, fishlike head showed up and talked with me for a while. He was chinless, with some fine wrinkles, vertical or almost so. His neck was huge, probably bigger than his head, and his head flowed smoothly into it. He had small dark widely set eyes. I'm not sure he had any ears, maybe just little holes with curved wrinkles going into them. His mouth was practically lipless, curved downward and drooping sharply at the corners, and open most of the time, darkness within. His skin was an odd pale tan. He talked quietly, with a bit of flat harshness, like a rural Midwestern accent. I think I was around where I was before, but I might have moved off a little bit, to somewhere relatively nearby.

Sometime later, I drove back to Nevada. I looked more normal, though maybe not entirely like I normally do. I seemed to be younger too, maybe in my thirties. My father was in the area somehow. He came in a different car. He may have been somewhere behind or somewhere else, even off to the side. I was going down the hill toward work now, again. It was dark. The place was different, almost a parallel reality. A business had come in and taken over, and was building something big to the left, in the distance. There were also smaller buildings scattered to the right. There were tall dark brown stakes in clusters at the edge of the road, perhaps a foot and a half high, on both sides of the road. The clusters were widely spaced, and getting larger as I went on, intruding more into the road.

Suddenly someone was standing in front of me, illuminated by the headlights, a hazy figure in the dust. I stopped, and then considered going forward, but I couldn't, because the figure was still there. Then a large earthmoving machine moved in from the right, blocking my path, turning its big scoop toward me. I don't remember now why the man was there, but he wanted to stop me. I'm under the impression that he might have had some kind of car trouble, or something like that, but there was also something else going on, war games of some kind, explosions from bombs dropped by planes, at least some of the explosions in the sky, none real close. It also seems that there were a few other people, not many. It almost seems like they were refugees in some way from the business, off the road a few miles to the left and a little ahead, though it had small branches scattered out in the valley, which was otherwise mostly empty. There was something dangerous happening there at the business, something that shouldn't be happening. It's possible they were let go after they found out. They were afraid that some people might be coming after them soon, to harm them. It was important for them to get away, important for me to get away too. There were still explosions in the air sometimes, bright flashes, from war games apparently, or maybe it was caused by something else, bombs set off for some other reason. The people started to move across the road, heading out across the valley to the other side. I'm not sure if I followed them or not.

I went back again later. It was night. I was worried about my car, the one I was driving, which was apparently the 1970 El Camino. I wondered if it had enough gas, and the gauge, apparently the speedometer, though sometimes it felt like the gas gauge, and it was on the small side, had formed red beads on the upper half of the glass. It was making a strange noise too, and I saw bursts of sparks, like fireflies, in front and zooming over, around and past the car, and I nervously wondered if they were coming from the car, but I also seemed to see them coming on the road from the sides, several car lengths ahead of me, intermittently, and swooping toward me. I was afraid it was the speedometer cable, that it needed oiling. I hoped it could hold out for a while, and not get damaged. There was a place on the other side of the valley, on the right, a large auto parts place, plus something else with it, part of it, it almost seems like an eating place or a motel, although it was all part of the same one-story building. My father was also going this way, maybe coming in from a side road in the earlier part of the valley. I don't remember whether he was ahead of me or behind me. He might have stopped at a little place before getting on the main road.

Then I came back again later, maybe days later, I'm not sure. It was night and raining. The clusters of stakes were still there, indented into the road, but as I went along, getting to the lowest part of the valley, I saw individual stakes driven in the road, widely scattered, in different places. They had apparently been put there to stop people from proceeding. They had evidently been put here since I had been here before, I guess they really decided to block it off this time, keep all but authorized people out. There was no way to avoid the stakes, not at the speed I was going. It was too late to stop too, the road was too slick with the rain, and I was still going slightly downhill. I grimaced and hit the stakes over and over again, apparently breaking them off. I heard a pop-pop sound, and I realized I had at least two tires flat. I kept on going, hoping to make it across to where the auto parts place was, or at least close to it. I could probably get it repaired there. They were open late, I'm not sure they ever really closed.

I got there. It was still raining. The place was lit up and had a tall chain link fence around it, enclosing the building and a small dirt/gravel parking lot. A lot of people were there. I think I talked to some people or tried to. There seemed to be a little bit of tension, not only because I was an outsider, but because something was going to happen, something dangerous was coming. A lot of the people began to move off now, to leave, to get away before it got here.

Then I was back in town, though I'm not sure which one. I stopped in a small shopping center, a strip small. It was daytime. The weather was fairly cool, and it seemed to be overcast. I think I had wanted to get a newspaper, but I had stopped in two stores at the end of the shopping center, one some kind of gift shop and the other an old bookstore, then I was working on the car, apparently the 1987 Oldsmobile. I had the body up in the air, with the frame apparently still on the ground. Dust and pieces of dirt were falling out, getting on me when I walked under it. The body was held up on tall metal poles. Another car was not far away. This section of the parking lot, a fairly small section to the side, was mostly empty. A few people were around though, local people it seems, some out near me and some back toward the stores. Some of them talked some and I talked back. I went back to the stores briefly, and then went back to the cars. The other car also seemed to be associated with me, but I'm not sure how now. I think it was getting late in the afternoon. I really needed to get finished up with things, as best that I could, and then get started back to Arizona.

The man with the leatherlike, fishlike head came back. He was a friend before, but seemed troublesome now, argumentative. He was against what I was doing. I had a gun somehow. It was laying somewhere I think, near or in my car, and I got it and pointed it at him, my arm out straight, and then after a pause, fired, shooting him in the forehead. I saw it hit him and then I saw it from behind too, the bullet coming out the back of his head, out a of small red hole. He stood there for a little bit, then fell. The people seemed bothered by it, saddened. They seemed friendly and I wasn't sure they would tell anyone, but it was possible some of them might, might tell the police and send them here. I felt if they did, it might be a little while before they decided to do it, and that I had a little time, though maybe not much.

I mounted him on the roof of the car, sideways across it, and took him to Mexico, to dispose of him there. My family had a place there, a ranch or something like that. When I got there, or soon after, fireworks were going off, bright flashes in the sky. It was a little disturbing, and a distraction. I had to get the body taken care of, hidden somewhere, and I didn't like all the commotion. I didn't really want anyone from the town happening by and seeing what I was doing, and seeing the body. A few people from the ranch were there, including a few kids. They seemed a little subdued, maybe a little uncertain, because of the body. After a while, surprisingly, he woke up, not dead after all, his wound healed. He stood up and looked at me. I was a little relieved that he was alive somehow, though I didn't really understand it. I supposed that creatures like him must have some special healing/regeneration ability that I didn't know about.

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Sunday, June 03, 2012

Dream - The mall, the man in the devil mask, and the storm

On Saturday morning, November 20, 2010, in a period of sleep ending around 11:00 AM, I had a long dream in which I ended up at a large mall, apparently where the old Osco/Bashas' stores were, at 74th St. and McDowell Rd., then left and wandered off north, possibly to Plaza 777 where the radiator shop used to be, then I went back to the mall again. I was talking to some other people sometimes, at least some of them family members. It was afternoon, a pleasant temperature, mild, the sky clear but kind of a gray tone. I went back in the mall and was wandering around. Besides little shops, it had layers to go though. Some of the mall was to the right, like at Fashion Square, but I went to the left, and it seemed like I was going through layers of primarily the same store, to different departments, with walls between them. I also found some candy by little walls, in glass jars. I ate some of it and was looking for more.

I finally left, taking a heavy white plastic trophy I saw on a shelf by the free snacks. It was a statue of something, heavy and compact and styled, with just the suggestion of an animal form. Out in the parking lot I began to wonder if it was really free, and decided that it probably wasn't. I looked around it for a price tag. At or near the car, the gold 1989 Olds, I finally found a small white sticker with something written on it. I turned it up toward the sky to try to get more light on it, but the light was dim, it was late in the afternoon and the sky was somewhat overcast. A little sunlight came through, though. At first I thought the price was other things, then finally resolved it as $9.00. I decided that I had to take it back. I walked back in with it, hoping that no one would bother me about it. Some people frowned at me, and I eventually set it down somewhere, not where I got it.

I saw my sister, the oldest one, who was several years younger than me, and we walked through the mall together.

It was starting to get late and things getting ready to close. We went back toward the entrance. We passed some people from the store at a minor side entrance, doing a strange dance, one or two dressed in strange clothes and wearing strange lifelike almost devil-like masks, but without the horns, doing a strange acrobatic dance over a large broad mattress-like thing close to the floor, entertainment for the people. A woman showed up with the mask after a while and did some of the tumbles, but it was like they shared the same mask, that the other guy had taken it off while he was gone and then she emerged wearing it, though I think I eventually saw them together with masks on.

Approaching the main exit, I lost my sister and went back into the mall looking for her. I got to where it turned a corner, and there were other little stores, some of them selling food, but they were pulling down their roll-up covers over the fronts of the stores.

Going back, I passed the man with the devil mask and strange costume. He had his shoes off and his feet were covered with fake feet too. The mask was tight fitting and had no seams, and looked natural, though still somewhat rubbery. He had a reflective expression on his face, sitting and looking off into the distance to the right, toward the short exit, rubbing his foot. He talked very briefly. I moved on. Near the main exit, my sister came up behind me. She had been following me for a while, and seemed amused by it.

She had been for a while at a side room across the aisle, too, a place where food was served and also where everyone sang and played musical instruments. I could see them from here. I went over and went in for a while. The place had a tropical theme, which became more manifest deeper into it. At the other side of the room it blended into an outdoor area with plants and palm trees, and round concrete tables among shrubbery. Inside, everyone sat close together. I wandered outside for a while. There were worries and warnings about a storm approaching. It was still light outside, late afternoon, near sundown, still with some sunlight. A strange cloud was there to the southeast though, gray brown, boiling, churning at the edges, on the ground, wider at the top than the bottom, and with a flat top. It was coming this way, visibly so, though people didn't know if it would dissipate before it got here or not. People were running around, though, trying to get away. I kept looking back at it. Each time I looked it was moving this way, but didn't seem to get closer between looks. I wandered off to the southwest, into the parking lot. Large areas were flooding, with tall palm trees sometimes at a slant, sometimes with large areas of sodden mud over the parking lot and things. It had evidently gone through here already.

I went back inside and went over to the main exit. The various things lining it, little stores and various activities, had closed for the most part, and were covered up, but now they were starting to reopen, a late night thing. Things seemed more sinister. The man in the evil mask was back again. A place there was also offering odds at things, like odds on how TV shows would do, and odds on other minor things, and I thought about placing a bet, but wandered back to the main section and was trying to find the board/sign I saw with odds on it. Looking at it, I realized I had misunderstood what I had read before, and the odds weren't good. I decided not to do it. The man with the devil mask was going over a raised, long rectangular area with concrete edges, and a cloth placed over the middle. Underneath it were a series of crosswise rods and large beads. Before, when I was going to leave, he had been on a slanted one, like an escalator, with things in the middle that weren't moving but with bands on the edges moving down, with little rough things on them and around them, like tiny broken rocks. He had been cavorting in the middle and maybe singing. I had tried to grab onto and slide down one of the bands. As I made my way toward the direction of the exit, I saw him looking my way, not entirely happy at it.

It was night now, had been for a while, late, and I went out the exit to leave. It was cold, and the parking lot was covered by cold mud, with snow dusting it in places. Some areas just had a little mud, and some areas were very diluted, almost water, some just slightly dirty water, and some not much of that. It was daylight still then for a while. I went to the car. It was looking normal, but as I got there, or soon after I got there, it changed to a much smaller and lighter electric car, still with front wheel drive. Some other people were coming too to their cars. We passed by some tiny wooden guard shack type things, damaged by the storm, sometimes sitting at angles there between the rows of cars, wet inside. I walked through one and out the other side, wondering a bit if someone would object. The others seemed more afraid to do that. I got to my car, which turned out to have my mother's purse there on a small white table behind the passenger door. I guessed I must have left it outside the car. I was glad no one had taken it.

I got in and drove, not toward the exit at 74th St., but down the row toward the north, then toward the east and into another row going back south, where conditions were much worse, heavy mud covered the pavement. A delivery type truck was backing out down the row ahead of me. It slowly backed out, but there was some kind of trouble, and it finally got going and moved away. There was another big truck on its side at an angle, that I had to go around. In the dream I didn't know why I came back there, it was a lot harder to get through and more dangerous. The small car with front wheel drive that I was in, though, pulled through and over the mud.

I got to the front, by the mall, and turned to the west, toward 74th. Other cars were going out through the exit near the intersection, across from the bank. I didn't like that though. I thought it was too close to the intersection, too hard to get out, although it had a traffic light. However, there didn't seem to be one earlier, and at times, and I tried to go to the south, to another large exit, further away from the intersection. People on the walk around the mall were calling out to me, not to do it, it was too dangerous. It was fully night now, late. I tried to go south, but ran into increasingly heavier, deeper mud, and there was also worry that I might heading into the storm, that it would come through here. I turned around and went back. A little Mexican-type kid, possibly part Indian, had been following me, a little girl. She was associated with someone, a couple of people mainly, but had been following me, and I agreed to let her go along. The car was so tiny now, that she was riding on the back. It was rainy and cool, even chilly. The car seemed to be a two seater with a small wooden platform on the back, even some wood rails going along the sides, and a very short front.

I waited at the light for a while. It turned red just as I got there. Across the street, there was just the sidewalk with landscaping along it. Everything was wet and cold, and rain was softly falling. Water was running in the gutter in front of me, and it was a sharp short slope to the street. I couldn't see the traffic light from here. I had to lean forward and tilt my head to look up, then I could see a tiny curved dark metal tube coming down from it, with the end glowing the color the light was. Off to the right was the intersection with its own traffic lights, and I thought it was going to be a long time to wait, to get them both coordinated properly. There was only a very short wait, though, before I saw the light in the tube above me turn to green, and I pulled out into the street, going south, the girl happily riding along with me, and sometimes running beside me holding on. I had no idea really what I was going to do with her, whether I could drop her off at her house somewhere along the way, maybe on a small side trip, or at somebody else's house along the way, or just a a place where she could make it home from or be picked up from, an intersection in the neighborhood, or if I even had to take her to my house for a while. Her parents seemed to approve her going along with me though, so I guessed it was alright, whatever was going to happen.

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Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Dream - Dreams, synchronicities, grandparents, the radiator shop, the wedding, and the autism tour

On Saturday, July 26, 2008, late in the afternoon, I dreamed I was driving on McKellips or a street farther out, going way to the east. It was night. I was thinking about, even experiencing, strange dreams I had had in the past, some about my grandfather on my father's side and some about my grandmother on my mother's side. It seemed that at some point my grandmother was with me in the car. I had dreamed (in the dream) that she came to visit me in an astral projection, maybe I was in an astral projection too, and I had taken her around to a lot of places, showing her things, and we had spent a long time doing it.

Now I was going back toward Scottsdale and was almost there. I had picked her up somewhere or she had somehow joined me, and she was talking about how she had had a dream where I had taken her all over the place and showed her things. She was happy and seemed amazed at it. I was agreeing with her as she talked.

Then somehow it was a later time, and I was going back toward Scottsdale with my father, on the same road. I'm not sure who was driving, sometimes it seemed to be him and sometimes me.

I was telling him about strange dreams I had about my grandfather (his father), and my grandmother. I didn't remember much now about the dreams with my grandfather, but I assured him I had them written down. I didn't have it with me, though, which made me feel a little disturbed or bad, though I kept a happy air.

I told him briefly about what happened with my grandmother. I thought sadly to myself that I should have told her more about it. She was dead now, though, she had died maybe a few months afterward and had been dead now for several months, maybe more (in real life, she died in December 1984).

At some point we stopped and were no longer in a car, though he was with me for a while. It was daylight now, morning.

I walked along looking for synchronicities, trying to show him how this and things like it were happening with me now. We went along lanes lined with tall green bushes, almost like hedges except they were not trimmed. I saw a newspaper laying on the ground and leaned over and peered at it, looking for synchronicities. Nothing popped out at me, but I still thought something might be there. I hadn't the time or inclination to examine it closer right now, though. I was going to the radiator shop on Scottsdale Rd., and it was getting late, like it was taking too long.

I finally came out of the bushes to the side and back of the radiator shop, coming from the south. I was alone. I met Scott, a worker at the radiator shop, out there. Someone else was also out there working, some lesser worker. It seemed I had to go somewhere now, I don't remember why, perhaps it was to get something. I left with someone, a woman.

We went back out through the bushes, but then we quickly got past them and I saw with surprise that we seemed to have somehow taken a different way. It appeared to be a little to the east of the way I had come, though it also appeared to be the other side of 68th St., near Thomas Rd., which would have been to the northwest. The light was dimmer now, like later in the day.

We saw a big Chevrolet car, like a Caprice, maybe something from the 1970s. We were not far from the back of some eating place, it was a perhaps a couple of hundred feet away. A crowd of people were off near the back of the eating place, but no one was around the car. I thought the car must be the one I had left, which was a big white Chevrolet, though I didn't know how it got where it was. A part of me that was just mind was off a ways and slightly above and watching, and kept raging in frustration, "Don't they see the 'Just Married' sign on the back of it, don't they see that this is a wedding and this is the car the bride and groom will go away in, the car isn't even white, it's actually a pale blue, can't they see that?"

We went toward the car, talking wonderingly and looking it over. I finally decided that it was a light blue color, almost white but not white, and so it couldn't be the car I was looking for. We went toward the back and I finally noticed the sign. At first it seemed to be on the back window, but now it was mounted on a long, squarish, heavy metal tube going from a very small trailer, just two wheels perhaps two or three feet apart and a metal frame, toward an attachment low on or under the bumper of the car. It was a huge sign, and going back to the other side of it we could see that it said "Just Married". I was pulling at it to get a better look and I think the woman was some, too. The sign bent back and twisted some under the pressure. It was firmly mounted, though, and was not damaged, just showing a little flexibility. It was of some fairly stiff white material, shiny, with black letters. We left then.

I ended up going toward Tempe on foot. The woman was with me, I think. We were eventually going up someplace along or around University Drive, but it was like a wide winding passage with uneven, somewhat soft looking walls, like it was made of some type of fiberboard and paper-mache. We were going east, toward Rural/Scottsdale Rd.

We met a woman with a group. She was apparently giving a tour. She was talking about autism (in real life they were talking about autism on the radio, on KFYI, with host Jan D'Atri). There were posters on the uneven wall about it. I had been looking at them before we met her, and at a newspaper in a vending machine, trying to find some evidence of synchronicities. I didn't notice any, though. There may have been some, but if so they were not immediately evident.

The woman led the group into and through a large art/poster/book store, that was completely open to the passageway and blended into it. She was still talking about autism, and stopping at various things to show them to the people, as part of the talk/lecture.

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Monday, September 19, 2011

Dream - Cars and fake cars, rock displays and fountains, and barking, painted, seal-like creatures

On Friday, July 31, 2009, around 2:30-6:25 AM, I dreamed I was at some place a little like my old elementary school, and perhaps where the school is, though it and the surrounding area were a little different in the dream. I was in something like the multipurpose room, but it was laid out the other way, north-south, and was some kind of grocery store, an older style one, with simpler shelves and displays. It also sold other things, and had a long tall counter, with a few people behind it, along the east side of the room. I was there a long time, with someone else, perhaps two people. My mother might have been one of them, but someone else was also with me. I mostly wandered around the store by myself. There was some worry about rain and flooding, and it became important to leave soon.

A little later, not long before I left, I went to a wooden replica of a sports car, apparently a Lamborghini or Ferrari or something like that. It was made of two rough, somewhat splintery, light brownish orange wooden halves, put together around the bumper level or just above, so that it had an upper half and a lower half. It was nearly life-size. I pulled the halves apart, pulling the top one up some, doing it a time or two, then a little later started taking the top section apart in small splintery sections, though it had appeared to be carved from a single piece of wood. I was a little surprised that it was coming apart. The pieces almost seemed to be breaking/peeling off, but they were fairly regular in shape, like it was intended to be that way. I had been trying to show someone the car before we left, perhaps my mother, perhaps someone else, then I was outside trying to walk home.

I remember earlier going to the place, walking up there toward it in the dark, with someone with me, perhaps 15 or 20 feet to the right, and us talking some. It was still dark when I left. One or two people were out there with me, some distance away. We sometimes talked. I was trying to walk home through the neighborhood, but they wanted to go a different way and were in more of a hurry. They left, though I'm not sure they went together. I think one or more of them might have ultimately used a car.

I wandered back and forth a bit, without getting very far west. The houses were small with small yards, in rows that ran east-west. They got much smaller then, with the alley between them not even wide enough for any but the smallest cars. I started going west, then down a street that was almost aligned with the school, a little north of center. Things expanded again and the yards became huge.

Several houses down, on the left side of the street, I came across a small car parked there. I think it was initially empty, and I looked it over and fiddled with it some, even looking inside it and feeling things inside it and fiddling with them. Someone else was nearby and it was bothering them, and they were trying to talk me out of it. I don't know if the person was one of the people who had come with me or was one of the people who had been in the school/store. I think it bothered them that I was doing this to some stranger's car.

Then a young dark-haired woman, who long ago was one of my teachers, came out of the house to the left and got in the car. I'm not sure what school I knew her from, it could have been my elementary school or high school or even DeVry, where I went to college. Perhaps she was even a combination of some teachers. She got in the little car and fiddled with things, trying to get it ready to go and started up. She had a smile on her face and seemed only vaguely aware of me, then she talked to me about what she was doing in a somewhat absent minded way. She seemed to age a little after a few moments, perhaps becoming around thirty or in her mid thirties, and had a little bit of a hassled look, though she was still smiling. At this point she may have looked a little like Mr. Monk's dead wife, Trudy (from the "Monk" TV show), though with dark hair, but she still looked more like one of my teachers. She finally got everything like she wanted, I guess, and left.

I wandered off, going some to the west and then turning to the south and going through the neighborhood, partly between houses I think, getting to a minor cross street that looped up and ran north-south for a while before turning back to the west. I felt that some people were after me now, in a small way, maybe disturbed by my wandering around and through the neighborhood.

I came across an area that was more open, with wide spaces between buildings, which didn't always seem to be houses. I was going south still. Not far to the east, a little ways behind the buildings, the land went into a rounded slope heading down to a creek or ditch or canal. The land here seemed to be mostly rock, though some places had dirt. At least a couple of places had rock displays, flat, somewhat irregular rocks stacked on top of each other in a rough square, perhaps six or eight feet on a side and perhaps a couple of feet high. The displays had a few buildings between them and were to the back, with old, worn, colored walks leading back to them from the main walk that ran in front of the buildings. They were wet, either from rain or an associated small fountain or both. I think I went back to the first one and then back to the second. I started picking up some of the irregular decorative slabs, cleaning water off of them.

A young relative came up, perhaps a cousin, a teen-aged girl, and I talked with her about about the displays. She helped with cleaning the water off some. We weren't just wiping water off, a little bit of wet dirt and grit was also being wiped off. Then she went off somewhere, perhaps to a car to go somewhere else. I think she had originally came in a car with some other people, with someone else driving. The car was parked maybe one or two hundred feet away to the southwest, though I think it moved closer, more directly west.

A little later, a car pulled up beside and a little behind a building a couple of buildings back to the north, and one or two people got out to do something in the buildings. Some kids were left in the car, maybe with one or two adults. One of the kids pointed toward me and was saying, "Say, isn't that the person people were looking for?" After continuing a bit with it, the kid was finally able to get the adults' attention and the car came closer, I guess after the people in the building got back in, though I'm not sure all of them did.

Then a young woman in the car started throwing things at me, sometimes hitting the rocks and sometimes hitting me. I think one of them hit me on the left temple/cheek area. They seemed to be rags or paper towels that had been wadded up and dipped in a small can of white paint. It was drizzling rain too, and the paint was running off in thin diluted streaks. I started wiping it off the rocks. I recognized her as a former girlfriend, not of mine, but of the character I was now playing, which seemed separate from the real me. It seemed ironic that she was doing this. She obviously hadn't recognized me, and I wondered how long it would take until she did. The car came much closer, pulling up beside me perhaps only six to ten feet away, and she was still yelling at me and saying how she was going to contact the authorities, and was still throwing wadded, dipped in paint things at me and was about to throw another one, when the cousin came back and quickly went over to her and explained the situation and told her who I was. The woman stopped, then, looking at me a little uncertainly, but with recognition. We talked briefly, then, though I don't think I got too close to the car.

Then I went further east, to where the dark rock went in a sharp rounded slope downward. It was still drizzling rain. The slope turned almost vertical, then mostly flattened out, though it continued downward in a shallow irregular slope, apparently eventually leading to a lake or perhaps the sea. Beginning on the sharp slope, and in a huge mass on the more level area below it, were large, very fat gray seals or perhaps manatees (though they had seal-like heads). A small can of white paint had been thrown out on them, perhaps a more tan one, though I'm not sure. They were making almost continual barking sounds and moving their heads and upper bodies this way and that, sometimes moving to different positions, milling around a bit, and moving the small can from one animal to another with their noses, the can moving downhill from one animal to another but also going back and forth to the sides. A lot of the animals had white streaks of paint running down them, mixing with the rain. It finally seemed like almost all of them did. They were a protected species, whatever they were, and there was concern in the town about their welfare. I could even hear a distant discussion, people far away somewhere, closer to the downtown area I guess, talking about them. I hoped the paint was nontoxic and wouldn't hurt them.

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Saturday, August 20, 2011

Dream - Riding in old experimental cars in Russia, drawn there through watching movie footage

On Monday, August 24, 2009, around 2:00-6:30 AM, I dreamed I was driving on large hills. It was cold and slushy, sometimes with damp, partially frozen slush covering part or most of the road, sometimes with tall ridges in the middle. Sometimes it was night and sometimes it seemed to be almost night or perhaps just before dawn. We had more than one car, two and maybe three. The person who was the Engineering Manager where I used to work was in one of them. He was having trouble with the build-up on the road, really worried about it, scared of it, particularly the ridges, some of which seemed about a foot high. I sometimes went over them, though I tried to maneuver the car so that a wheel was over them instead of the middle. This wasn't always possible though, the road sometimes curved some, plus I moved the car gradually back and forth looking for better parts of the road, plus sometimes a car would come from the other direction, and I couldn't always keep the ridge under my wheels. I couldn't move too quickly, too, because the car might lose traction. Although I thought the front of the car would scrape on the ridge, perhaps breaking or scraping off the top of the ridge if it wasn't too hard, the car went over the top of the ridge without any noticeable problem. I didn't even hear or feel scraping, except for perhaps for just a tiny bit initially, though the ridge should have been far too high to drive over without hitting it. Later, sometimes the Engineering Manager seemed to be in the car with me, in the passenger seat, cringing, and sometimes he wasn't, being instead in a car ahead or behind, sometimes far enough distant that it wasn't visible.

The slush and snow went on for a long time, with the road going through it, and sometimes up and down hills. The scenery initially, besides the large hills and the snow and slush, seemed to be dirt with low vegetation and some trees, not big ones. Later it was much the same. We eventually got to where it was apparently slightly warmer, and there was little or no slush. We were out far away from the cities, out in the wilderness somewhere, though even earlier we were on the edge of things.

Getting out to where there were small towns or settlements, we stopped somewhere to get something to eat. It was part restaurant, part convenience store. I think my father might have been there too, at that time. Perhaps he was with us later too, in a different car.

As we continued on, the hills got more gentle, more like slopes, and it was a little warmer and the land mostly dried out, becoming more dirt. We reached some place far out away from places. I think the roads were even dirt by then. Someone else showed up too, about the time we got there. It seemed we got involved with something, and I think I may have gotten somehow to Nevada, perhaps to someplace north of Fallon, though earlier it seemed to be in Arizona. I got involved in doing something there, though I'm not sure what now. This may have actually been the area with the restaurant/settlements, instead of someplace farther out, I'm not sure now.


I was made aware, though, of people filming a documentary in Russia, and Siberia, of cars being sent out with television cameras, filming as they drove, going through the countryside, day after day. The land was mostly empty, sometimes with vast areas of low, mostly green vegetation, usually on the long slopes. Sometimes the cars drove over large hills and even mountains, though.

I was drawn to watching the footage, taken from the cars as they drove. It tended to be night at first, though sometimes it seemed early morning, and it tended to be mostly overcast. Sometimes we saw or went through small towns or settlements, generally just a few buildings, with small widely scattered homes out in the countryside. I'm not sure I ever noticed the driver, maybe a glimpse of hands on the wheel. The camera was pointed to the front, sometimes looking toward the sides some.

I seemed to be there, watching the drive through Russia, from a camera in the car. It felt like I was a passenger, able to look out to the side as well as seeing the road ahead. I was in different cars at different times. We were away from the cities, in the countryside, which was almost entirely unpopulated. Sometimes I would see other cars. We went over mountains and up and down long slopes. It was cool in the car, tending toward cold. I could feel it. Outside the roads were wet, sometimes with a little snow or slush, especially higher up. It felt very peaceful, in the car, being driven, watching the scenery. It went on for a very long time. Sometimes my attention would go back to what I was doing, back where I really was, and I would do things there. Then after a while my attention would go back to the cars in Russia, perhaps being reminded of them by someone where I was, and I would be drawn back to them, and would be in one of them, again being driven along. I spent extremely long times there. It wasn't like watching scenes on television of it, this was the raw footage being shot, before it was condensed for the documentary. I was there in real time, while it was being shot, and the long drives went on forever, for hour after hour. I was aware of this while it was happening, that I was seeing the long version, and that what would be later shown would be specially selected clips from it.

Sometimes, especially toward the end, I would see secret weapons or machines, out in the open, just one at a time usually, with a few people associated with them. The machines tended to get more futuristic as time went on, but still with a primitive look. Most were apparently left over from the old days, but some were still being worked on in a small manner. They seemed to be mostly on the order of rocket or bullet shaped tanks or cars, armored, with rivets showing, with projections on the front that were apparently rockets or guns, some were bristling with them. They were now apparently considered only marginally secret, something on the order of curiosities, and a small amount of national pride seemed to be associated with them.

Later I went back mostly to doing things where I was, still sometimes drawn back for a little while to the cars in Russia, as they went driving along, filming. Some fantastic machines were showing up where I was, too, but these were more advanced, and manned, more disk-shaped with wheels, bristling with projections, going fast, very dynamic. They looked vaguely like the thing Han Solo drove in Star Wars, though more of a ground vehicle, but still able to fly and sometimes doing so. A few showed up, singly, at different times, clearly visible in the bright sunshine. One of the machines showed up at an underpass, out in the country, came up very rapidly and paused, there under the intersection and partly out, then zoomed on. A few other people were with me. We were concerned about them, but though they seemed vaguely threatening, they didn't seem to be really concerned about us. We seemed to be working on some kind of project, something to do I think with making preparations and fortifications against them, protections against them. We were doing other things too, roadwork and some kind of construction I think.


When I woke up, I was sitting in a chair in front of the computer, with the radio on, and it was cold, cold enough to feel chilled. It had rained a few days ago and the temperature had dropped, with highs in the 90s. Now, early in the morning, with the air conditioner (evaporative cooler) apparently still on, it felt too cool, and I wrapped the towel, that I had as a small substitute blanket, around my shoulders and felt warmer.

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Sunday, July 31, 2011

Dream - The woman with the wooden station wagon

On Tuesday, September 15, 2009, in the morning, possibly very early in the morning, I dreamed I was driving in Nevada in the Fallon area in the dark, later driving in the rural outskirts to the south with a few other people. Someone with me, a girl I think, wanted us to sing an old Sonny and Cher song, but with vulgar language added. I didn't sing the vulgar language, though. There was something earlier about going to a room or rooms I was staying at too, and other things, maybe a car lot or junkyard. I think my father was there at times too and maybe my mother. I think it was a fairly long dream, generally pleasant.

Then I was in a big house with big some rooms. Two very large, very long tables had been set up, almost filling portions of two rooms. The tables were covered with various food dishes, fairly simple ones, mostly in plates or shallow bowls. The tables themselves were dark and simple. My aunt, my mother's sister, was there, and I think my mother and younger sister, and possibly my brother. I was trying to find something that my aunt would eat, making various suggestions. I think I found something like soft pretzel sticks and something else, and then a little later some small bananas, then I left to go home. The place was some distance from it.

I had gotten paid now and it was easier to buy things. I was going to get gas and pick up some more groceries. I bought a bunch of groceries at the service station, a paper sack of them. I was tired and operating mostly on nervous energy. I quickly threw a bunch of things in the sack, sweet rolls and maybe some more bananas and some other things, maybe some kind of meat too. I saw a loaf of Rainbow bread, but it had a small tear in the bag. I examined it closely and worried about it a bit, but decided to go ahead and get it. I intended to go to a real store later, but I wanted to pick up a bunch of stuff to keep us going for now. I was very tired. I took it to the counter and paid for it, then went back to the car. I had parked it at the pumps without thinking, since I normally get gas, but I just wanted to grab some groceries this time. I had stopped and looked back at it, but decided to just leave it, and hurry up and get the groceries. I felt bad about blocking the pump and hoped they wouldn't be too mad. I was too tired to get back in and repark it somewhere. It seems I did take the groceries home, and my mother and some other people were there. She was glad to see me, but then I left again and went to a different service station, somewhere in Phoenix. It seemed I was getting gas this time. It was a small station.

When I got back to my car, I saw a woman at a nearby pump who had a wooden car. It was large and boxy and very simple. It sat high off the ground on wooden 2 by 4 inch boards that acted as legs. At first they didn't seem to have wheels, but later I saw tiny dark rollers under them. The car was roughly a tall station wagon configuration with a short hood. It was mostly empty inside. The seats were just a wooden platform. It didn't seem to have an engine. Though sometimes it did seem to go under it's own power, other times it used foot power. I started talking to the woman a bit. She got finished and went to get in her car, and asked if I wanted to go with her. I finally decided to get in. I noticed a police car a little ahead and to the left, at another pump, and worried about it a bit. The car didn't have any seat belts, and he might decide to give us a ticket for that. The car was kind of odd, and potentially noticeable because of that, but since it was obviously a homemade thing I hoped he would give us some slack. He came back to his car and finished up, and mostly seemed to ignore us. The woman kept talking in a somewhat tired, matter of fact way about various things.

We started going and pulled out onto the street. I was sitting at what would normally be the driver's area, and she was on the passenger side, but she did most of the driving, though at some point she suggested I take over, and I drove from where I was without having to move. At some point she joked about having taken a Republican position on something, and hoped I wasn't mad about that. She was apparently a Democrat, though. We eventually got to a house somewhere, apparently hers, but then started to pull out in the street and leave again. It was morning now, though it was night when we started, and the light was still fairly dim. She was driving now, and was driving earlier when we got here I believe. I was still worried about getting stopped by the police, this time more because the car was so odd, and they might think it didn't meet regulations and was somehow unsafe. A police car was starting to come by at the left, as we waited to pull out onto the street.

The dream faded into multiple scenarios then, with us getting stopped by that car or another one, and the officer calling in and asking about it, and another car coming in from the other direction, and another officer on the radio saying that he had stopped some other car that was similarly odd at an earlier time, and the judge threw the case out, so it probably wasn't worth getting involved in, to just let it go.

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Friday, November 13, 2009

Dream - Studying data formats, then flying to a mall and meeting someone from grade school

On Saturday morning, July 26, 2008, I dreamed I was studying data formats when a practice alert occurred, then afterwards I flew to a mall and met someone from grade school.

In the dream, I was at work in Nevada. The Engineering room was filled with rows of long tables. I was sitting at one near the front near the corner. On the other side of the wall was the short hallway going to the front door.

I was reading books and doing research. The books were about various things, including formats for getting user names and passwords and security stuff. A lot of other stuff too, probably user addresses, but also other information. It seemed a lot of stuff to have to enter into the computer. It also talked about formats of a type of manuscript and for the editing of it. Many other things, too, including natural history type info.

The Engineering boss came over. He was on the other side of the table across from me and down a little ways toward the inside of the room, and animatedly talking to people. He was smiling as he talked, but I felt he was really spying on us, me in particular, checking to see if we were working. I kept on reading the books and I think taking an occasional note. It was something I needed to be doing and was work related. I felt a little uncomfortable anyway, though not much.

A practice alert occurred, a prescheduled one, though I had forgotten it would happen. The others left, some faster than others. I continued to try and read for a little while, to try and finish up some what I had been doing, but finally realized that I had better get going, that I would get in trouble otherwise. I left and wandered around. I don't remember now what I did.

I eventually ended up eating in my car. It was parked along with many other cars in rows in, I guess, a gravel parking lot. It was beyond the buildings out in what in real life would be desert, out in the Elko direction, away from Fallon. Although it was around lunchtime the light was not very bright, like it might be a little cloudy. I think I was still reading while I ate, also looking out the windows and thinking.

I looked at my watch (or a clock on the dash) and saw that it was a little after 1:00 PM. It was almost 11:00 when the practice alert occurred. I had decided to just combine it with lunch. I thought now, though, that the alert was probably only twenty minutes long and now it was getting kind of late and I had better get back. It didn't seem important, the amount of time I was taking, but then it seemed that the time might matter, that some people might be upset. Some other people stopped by and started talking to me. I got out and shut the door. It was an old car, like something from the 1950s. It seems I had another car there, too.

There was some kind of odd locking device on the outside. Sometimes it was on the fender near the passenger door and sometimes it was on the other side of the door around the bottom of the thick roof pillar. A key went in it to turn it. It was a round thing perhaps a couple of inches across with a bar across the middle. Once the key went in I turned the dial around quite a bit, it had a lot of travel. I kept talking about it as I demonstrated it. It seems it also had something to do with the wipers. One person was still there listening, but the others had gone on, going back to work. We had to get started, too.

I went and looked and there was a long way down to the shopping center. Although it was now a shopping center, not the place I worked, it didn't seem to matter or even be noticeable. The shopping center was at a lower level, down in the desert. The desert had occasional brush and plants. There was a broad dirt road that led down there that went to the side and then turned to the left toward it. Someone was still with me, though it didn't seem to be the same person as before, he seemed taller. Though I suppose he could just have changed in the dream, he looked different, too.

I decided to just fly down there, that I could do it. I wanted to show the other person, too. I think I was encouraging him to fly, but he didn't want to and either drove or hurried down on foot. I flew down, low over the landscape. I couldn't get much height.

As I got closer, a bunch of people were coming out and going down the road toward me. Then the man I was with suddenly came out of the tall brush at the right side of the dirt road. As I came down to the ground the people moved past me, talking among themselves. It seemed to be closing time, at least for the shift the people were on.

I went in to the shopping center. The light was dim. There were still people around, though not huge numbers. There seemed to be some military connection, like the shopping center had some military connection or side purpose.

I was still thinking about the user name, password, and user data formats as given in the book. It seemed there was some manual there that also talked about it as part of other things. It talked about something completely different at the front of it, maybe appliances or something like that, like the rest was partially hidden.

I needed to go to the upper level. It seemed the shopping center was very tall (though it didn't seem so when I saw it outside). The upper levels may not all be shopping and I think that some of them may have had more of a military purpose. There was some kind of projecting balcony or landing, maybe with folding stairs, though I think there was also a stairway or elevator somewhere far at the back of it.

I showed the person with me that I didn't need to use the stairs, I was so tall that I could reach up and grab the floor or something around there with my hand and then pull myself up on it. I think I may have originally thought more about flying up, though.

However I did it, I was now up on the walkway and could go toward the next level of the shopping center. The walkway was made of some dark material, metal and maybe old wood. It went into a right angle turn to the left and then I reached the end. There was a bit of a gap between it and the next level of the shopping center, and the next level was slightly higher, maybe a couple of feet, maybe more. The next level had a narrow walkway long the front of it with a thin metal railing. Someone was already there, or got there just as I was reaching it.

I recognised him as a short person I used to go to grade school with. He was still short and looked much the same, just older. He was there now on the walkway beyond the railing. He wanted to know if I recognized him. I said yes, and told him my name just in case he didn't remember it. I was very, very tired now, though, and I didn't get the name out very well. It was soft and blurred and trailed off. I tried again, saying something like "Stlephebim Morgahn." It was not very good, but I was so tired it was very hard to talk. He seemed to understand anyway.

He offered to help me up on the narrow walkway where he stood, there in front of the next level. I took his hand and he pulled me up.

When I got there I saw he was much taller and his face was longer and narrower. He was much taller that I was, maybe a half foot or so taller. I was surprised. He said he shot up a lot after grade school (or I simply supposed that to be the case). There was some other quality about him too, like he had some extra knowledge and/or power and was part of the military aspect of things in some intelligence or security function or knew something about it.

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Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Dream - Breaking through to other dimensions, fighting evil things with love

On Sunday morning, November 16, 2008, I dreamed I used a little car to break through to another dimension, then we went to another dimension and used directed energy to fight evil things with love.

In the dream, after some traveling and discussion, I ended up in a house or a building, at a dimly lit room on one end, like a bedroom. My father and I think my mother were there. If not my mother then someone else, because there were at least two people.

I started talking about how I had discovered it, I had finally figured out how to do it, how to get the energy.

I left the room, flying or gliding swiftly forward, a foot or two off the floor, heading toward the other side of the house, showing them how it was done and hopefully showing them how they could do it, too. I raised up some as I approached the wall and went through a window-like opening in it, going into the next room. It felt like I was going through into another dimension.

Going through the other room, the situation changed to where I was now in a car going along a road that was raised off the floor, hanging in the air. The road and the car were small and toy-like, like they were representations of what was happening. The road went into a downward slope as it crossed the room, then rose smoothly as it approached the far wall, turning up near the wall into an almost vertical rise.

I distantly heard my father talking in the other room, discussing the situation with the other person. "Do you think he's going to make it? It doesn't look like he's going to make it."

I watched the little car, with me in it, rising on the little road, almost pointed straight up, near the wall and almost halfway up it. It was slowing down, but it felt like time itself was slowing down, that the process was becoming suspended in time, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the car to break on through, with a sudden burst of bright energy and movement break on through the barrier holding it back, and break through dimensions and go through the wall into the next room.

Not sure what was happening but a little disturbed by the delay, I went over to the car. I felt that it should be able to do it, that I should have the power, but I didn't want to wait any longer. I felt that I had to break into the scene and do something.

I grabbed the car and pulled up on it, and it went up and slightly toward me, bright light pouring now from around it, a bright area in the middle with long thick rays reaching out, lighting up that side of dark room.

I turned back to the others, happy. "See? See?" I went back to them, and from the other side of the room and one by one, I pointed my finger at their heads and then their bodies. A stream of large drops, slightly glowing, shot out from my finger, getting them wet. I was giving them some of the energy I had, in the hope that they would then be able to have the power to do some of what I could do, and to give them some knowledge of the power and how to obtain it. They blinked, their eyes taking on new understanding and awareness, a new knowledge of the world and what lay behind it.


Then we went somewhere else, to some other dimension I think, to some place that seemed like a large ship. It was dark and dimly lit. We met some person who was very strange, not entirely human, and seemed to want to attack us. I said that we couldn't fight him, that it would make it worse, that we had to use love on him, that it was the only way.

We each reached out one or more arms, hands aligned with the arms, fingers pointing at him, and shot love toward him. He paused and straightened up, leaning back some, looking a little surprised. We kept it up and he started to change, some of the dark evil falling away from him. He became much more normal in appearance and stood there with a look of wonder on his face, and no longer wanted to hurt us. We left him puzzling over his new situation and moved on.

Near a railing, where the ship curved around, we came across another figure. This one was less massive and more human looking, and was taller and thinner, several inches taller than we were. We started doing the same thing to him, but he seemed to be resisting it better than the other one. I got worried and and jabbed my fingers, of my left hand I think, near his chest and then near his face, twisting my hand around as I did so, sending not love but a forceful, penetrating beam of invisible energy. It didn't work and seemingly made him madder and maybe even more powerful.

He leaned back slightly more and his face took on a more determined grimace. His right hand changed into something like a fat tube of what I felt was some kind of ointment, though I don't know what was in it. It looked like a very fat toothpaste tube, complete with a short cap. The other hand changed into something else, maybe something like pliers with large, rounded, flat, dark jaws filled with large triangular teeth. Teeth that, like pliers' teeth, were part of the jaws, but unlike most pliers' teeth didn't have sharp edges, and seemed more to grip firmly without tearing or cutting into what was being gripped.

Regretting my weakness in choosing to attack it, I again poured love into him, urging the others to do so. He fought against it, standing his ground and waving his hands around a little in a threatening manner, but finally we were able to win. He calmed down and started to change, losing his evilness, as the love took effect.

We turned then and went quickly down a hallway, into the interior of the ship. Something else was happening. At the far end of the hall was the open door of an elevator, and a figure ran to it and was tumbling into it, falling on the floor of it and twisting around to face upward and somewhat toward us. Two or three large dogs were also rushing into the elevator, black or dark brown on top with lighter brown underneath. One of them turned its head back and looked at me, seeming upset and worried and a little scared, but not really fearful, partially changing into a light brown-skinned man, or something approaching a man, as the elevator doors started to close.

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Friday, September 18, 2009

Dream - The young blond policewoman

On Sunday, March 1, 2009, I dreamed I parked my car in a large parking lot, and a young, slim, tall, blondish policewoman, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and wearing dark glasses, parked a couple of places away from me, on the passenger side. She was looking over at me, and got out of the car and came toward me holding a ticket book. She bent down, looking in at me, and rapped sharply on the passenger side door.

I wearily and suspiciously reached across the car to open it. The window mechanism no longer worked, but it seemed she wanted the door opened anyway. I didn't know what this was about, but I was afraid that it was some kind of a setup, that somebody had put her up to it.

It turned out that it wasn't quite that way, though. She wasn't there to try to give me a ticket or reprimand me about something, instead she was friendly and had been sent by someone, some family member I think, to find me and give me a message. I think I woke up before I found out what the message was, though.

Some more happened earlier that I don't remember, though I think I had been in my house with some members of my family.

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Dream - Flying in an old black pickup truck

On Sunday, January 18, 2009, I had a dream about flying in an old black pickup truck with several other people.

In the dream, I was at the radiator shop. It was night. Several people were there with me. I think some of them were relatives, but not all of them. I'm not sure what we were originally doing there, late at night. I don't think it was radiator work. We seemed to be having some kind of get-together and were discussing things. There was a little bit of tension involved, some anxiousness, and a feeling that time was short, that we had to get things figured out soon. I think we might have been eating there also, and one or two of the rooms may have been set up for sleeping. For some reason I seemed not to have any pants on, and this was starting to increasingly bother me.

I went out the front and around to the side entrance, gliding through the air I think. In the dream the side entrance went directly to a large bathroom, but my younger brother, who had not been there earlier, arrived and got there first. He went in and closed the door. I didn't linger. As I saw him going in I continued forward, going toward the alley as if that had been my destination. I was already a ways out, maybe ten or fifteen feet, from the side of the building so it didn't necessarily seem as if I had been going to the bathroom. I'm not sure he even saw me, though he looked s little somewhat in my direction.

Out by the alley it was much darker. The area around the shop had been brightly lit. After drifting around out by the alley for a while, I went back. My brother was just getting out of the bathroom, and went around toward the front. I went and got inside an old black pickup truck that was parked on the pavement beside the shop. I still didn't want it to look like I was trying to get in the bathroom. I was also becoming more bothered by my lack of pants and didn't really want my brother to see me this way. The truck was out a ways from the wall, maybe enough to park a small car beside it. It was pointed toward the alley, away from the street. I'm not sure it was there on my way by the first time, but it was now.

I sat there in the truck considering what to do. I finally decided that I would have to go home and use the bathroom there. Several people came out from the shop, rushed out really, and got in. They were apparently employees, though some of them may have been used for something other than radiator work. I didn't really know any of them, though I guess I knew enough to know they weren't strangers.

Both side windows were down, and I reached out and grabbed the window sills on both sides of the truck, and, gathering my strength, pulled the truck up into the air with me. I flew up and toward the back a little, but the overhead lines got in the way as I tried to go up. I went back down at least some and then back up a bit and tried to go south down Scottsdale Road and then go up higher again, but lines were still in the way. I turned and crossed the road and tried to get up again, and lines were still in the way. There were band after band of them, some bands going across diagonally. Some of the bands had wires that weren't very thick, like they were used for some purpose other than telephone or power. I was thinking perhaps cable. (In reality a lot of those are thick, and some telephone lines are thin, but I didn't think of that in the dream.) When I got past one set of wires there was another set going some way or the other, a little ways higher.

I went back across the road to the shop. I had to get up somehow, there had to be some way, I couldn't just give up. I pulled up on the truck again, spiraling upward, the nose of the truck pointed straight up. I wandered around in the path I was taking, trying to get past the wires, the truck still pointed up, and ended up slightly south near the neighborhood street, trying to work my way around the lines there also. There seemed to always be more going some direction or other.

Finally I was past the last bit, a set of regular heavy black lines, but then I saw more above that, a layer that seemed to cover everything. It looked like little sections of thin grating two to four inches long and an inch to an inch and a half wide, turned this way and that. There seemed to be no way around it, but I felt that we couldn't be stopped, we couldn't allow ourselves to be stopped now.

I had kind of a feeling, and, still wondering if something might happen, if I might get zapped, I reached up with my hand and pushed at them. They separated, moving aside, and with my fingers sticking out past them I pushed at them with my hand, moving it back and forth and to the side, moving them around. They were just a layer of debris of some sort, things that had floated up from the wires and associated devices below, floating on the surface of the water.

I moved the truck up through them, taking it up nose first and then leveling off with it floating half in the water. Water was rushing out of the truck, pouring out. The back of the truck, a dark metal boxlike structure, stayed tilted back, like the bed of a dump truck. A man was still in it. I pulled on it, trying to right it. The man said no, to leave him. I objected and kept trying, but he insisted, saying that he would be alright, so I prepared to leave him floating there with the boxlike bed of the truck, and fly on toward home with the others.


Much more happened earlier at the shop, but I wrote down the dream the following night and had forgotten the earlier part by that time, though some remained for a few hours after the dream.

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Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Dream - Gangsters, and a red blotch in the air

On Sunday morning, March 29, 2009, I had a dream involving gangsters, and later a strange red blotch in the air.

The earlier part of the dream is forgotten, but at some point I incurred the wrath of gangsters. I was in the back lot behind a business, perhaps the radiator shop. Most of the lot was dirt, but I was on a concrete portion. One or two of the gangsters left, leaving one behind with a gun pointed at me.

I was told to get in my car, which was parked at an angle on the concrete, with the front pointed to the southwest, partly toward the alley. The car was an old Cadillac, I think. It was a little small for a Cadillac, and was probably built after they started downsizing them. It was not a car I ever owned in real life.

Before I got in, I had to put the driver's side front inner fender back on the car. I had removed it or loosened it earlier for theft protection. It was falling down now as I tried to get it secured, including some black plastic panels and pieces along part of the front.

I was somewhat bemused, but the gangster person was a little impatient. I think someone dangerous was on the way and he wanted me gone before he got here. He sent someone into the shop to get the keys, a shop employee, I think. A couple of them came back out, looking uncertain and a little scared, holding a bunch of keys on a ring. Someone was going to start the car, then, but looking through the keys found ones that looked like Chrysler ones. The person was going to try them anyway.

I was in the back seat of the car, having been told to get in, then suddenly I was holding the keys, startled. The other person was going swiftly out the passenger door, leaving the place by a different car I guess. I was still in back, but was going to drive in that position anyway. I reached forward and put the key in the ignition. It seemed to go in anyway, despite being apparently the wrong key. I seemed not to be myself now, and was someone younger and smaller instead.

I drove to a counter somewhere, somehow drifting to the driver's seat along the way. I seemed to be a different person, with a different history, though I felt much like myself. Still in the car, I talked to someone behind the counter, and then the car faded away and I was standing there, still talking to the person. The person warned in a mild way that when such things are done they don't forget, talking about the gangsters. I'm not sure what things the person was referring to, though I seemed to have an inkling in the dream.

I went through some large rooms, then, and came to a smaller one off to the side. The room was still of reasonable size, perhaps twelve by eight feet, but was small in comparison to the others. Some other people were in the room, also.

While in the room, at some point, I saw a red area in the air against the light gray of the walls, hanging in the air like a vision. It was perhaps a couple of feet or so wide and twelve or fifteen inches high, and was about five feet above the floor and a similar distance from me, and a little to my right. I worried at first that some problem had happened with my eyes, since it looked something like blood, though a little lighter, some type of crimson. An area thinned out in the middle of it and whirling and turning thin lines formed in various patterns, sometimes like something a toy Spirograph would make, other times more like a turning horizontal wire spring.

It was beautiful and enjoyable to watch, though at the same time I was listening to other people in the room talk, or trying to, which was very distracting. It was a slow conversation and my eyes kept going back to the patterns, looking mostly at them, but it was ending now, slowing down, tending to fade some into indistinctness. I couldn't seem to bring it back, though the red remained, though a little duller and smaller.

I was looking back and forth from the red area to the people. I found I was reluctantly paying more attention to them, and a feeling of greater reality was settling in. I had to leave soon. There was a doorway to my right that sunlight was pouring through, a doorway that led out into the day, and I started to turn toward it and woke up.

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Monday, August 03, 2009

Dream - My grandmother's birthday party, and old cars disappearing into fog

Saturday morning, November 15, 2008, I had a dream in which I was at my grandmother's house in Arizona, but it was much bigger, and she was having a birthday party. It's hard to say for sure what time period the party would be in, except that it was probably somewhere in the 1970s or early '80s. The family members there generally seemed younger than they are now, though maybe not always by the full amount that would be required.

There were a lot of plants at the far wall and on the walls that joined to it. Some of the plants were very small and some average-to-large in size. Some of the pots were the size of little Styrofoam cups and others were large. All were overflowing or filled near the brim with water. My youngest sister was watering them and just went along them with the pitcher, pouring it out, getting some on the floor.

My grandmother, a little later, was given two books. She was sitting in a chair just on the other side of a wide doorway that led into the kitchen area. They were medical books of some kind. One was much smaller and thinner than the other. She was looking through the larger one, which was a tall, thick, oversized paperback that evidently dealt with herbal remedies. The other book was on the floor near her. She had evidently already looked through it some. She seemed fascinated by the one she was reading and asked me which one I bought for her or something like that. I had been out of town working and didn't actually buy them. I leaned over forward to be down near her. Though I faced her, my eyes went to the right and I was saying, "Uhhhhhhh........" My mother came up and rescued me, saying it was time to eat or something like that.

My brother brought in something like a pale cake that was partly composed of pudding, almost like a soft bread pudding except that it was uniform inside and didn't have any visible seams or components. Whatever it was I thought of it as cake. My grandmother seemed to have somehow moved a few feet into the family room, still in her chair. Both books were now on the floor. My brother had a big spatula and was using it to cut a long thin rectangular piece of the cake, which was in a rectangular glass pan. I worried about the cake dripping as it was a little wet, especially on the bottom. He was talking in a slightly loud sarcastic voice with an edge in it, and was getting the piece of cake out for my grandmother while holding it over one of the books. I went over to the book and moved it aside, whereupon he immediately turned and held it over the other book, which I also then moved. I complained to him about what he was doing, holding it over one of the books and then when I moved it holding it over the other one. He continued to talk in the sarcastic voice, ignoring me, though I think his eyes turned from side to side a little.

We went into the kitchen area to eat, to kind of a second smaller family room that corresponded more with how the house was in real life. My aunt, my mother's sister, came down to serve part of the food. I think someone had to go and coax her. She had wild hair that stuck out all over in long thick tapering curly light brown tufts. I think she had a big bowl in front of her that she was scooping portions out of for people, some kind of vegetable I think. There was also a second cake as well as other things. She talked while she worked, I think about something fairly matter of fact, but the way her head and mouth and eyes moved it was evident that she was a little upset about something and tears were in her eyes.


Some time passed then, and I came back what seemed like a couple of days later, though it may have been a week, to care for the plants. The house was dark. Everyone seemed to be gone, though I wondered if someone, maybe my aunt, was in the back to the house, in one of the bedrooms. I looked out the window at the back, standing a few feet away from the window I think, not really looking closely at things, just wanting to look some out there for a while.

I went over to the kitchen table and sat there, reading a technical book. The book was at least partly about cars, but it also seemed to be about science, maybe even physics or astronomy, and was in small print. I was maybe two-thirds through. I decided to skip through it some and see what it looked like further on. I was looking at some pages near the back, and then leafed through to the back and found that the back of the book had some of the pages damaged. Some were torn off vertically, some near the seam and some both near the seam and near the edge, with most of the middle missing.

I had the pages that had simply been torn off near the edge. They were still in the book and could be taped back together. The ones with the missing middle still had the outer edge, a strip of the page with a black plastic strip running down the outer edge. The plastic was perhaps 3/8 of an inch wide, with a slight ridge running down it near the inner edge. I didn't know why the book was made with plastic strips on the edges of the last few pages. It seemed awkward and they would be in the way. There wasn't much I could do with the pages with the missing middle. I decided to tape them to the back cover for now, in the hope that someday someone might find the missing middle sections and then be able to properly repair it.

I was afraid I was a little too late in coming back to care for the plants, that they had suffered from lack of water, and I felt a little guilty because of it. At the far end of the family room was a black upright piano, with plants across the closed keyboard cover and on both sides of the piano. Water was dripping on the black wooden keyboard cover, from a hose or perhaps even some kind of thin copper pipe with a small shutoff valve. Because of the plants it was hard to see exactly what the water was coming from, particularly from the other side of the room.

At some point a psychiatrist showed up. He felt something like the one I once had, though he seemed a little older and didn't really look like him. I don't recall him coming in. It seemed like he was just suddenly there and the assumption was that he had come into the house and sat down, in the kitchen in a chair near the door to the carport. I was on the other side of the table from him, still fiddling with the plastic strips, trying to get them secured to the back cover. I finally gave up on it for now and just closed the book. The pressure of it being closed would have to be enough hold the strips inside. The psychiatrist sat there frowning and we talked back and forth. I talked to him about the house being dark and how I was supposed to care for the plants, and about the general situation.


Then the situation changed, and I went back to Nevada and to the place in the desert where I worked. I talked with some people for a while, at various places in Building A, going probably from the north end toward the south end, and probably spending the larger part of my time in the south half of the building. At some point someone came and kept telling me, maybe more than one person telling me, that I needed to go to the conference room, that there was something important there. It seemed to have the force of an order, that it was an order from a manager that was being relayed to me. I think it was a general thing, that other people were also supposed to come, and that it was something that had been planned. I didn't feel a great sense of urgency about it, perhaps because I no longer really worked there. I finally went to see what was happening, though.

Going with a few other people, maybe including some who had made the request, I went down the long hallway, going north, away from the south entrance to the conference room, heading for the north one. When we got to the northern entrance, the doors were either already opened or were opened as we arrived. A few people were there, evidently waiting for us, perhaps especially for me, though I think they were also talking to each other when we came up. They were managers, I think, and directed our attention to inside the conference room.

There were a few cars in the conference room, on the side near the hallway, and one or two even outside the room. Some were owned by relatives, I think, but some weren't. They were small cars mainly, though some may have been midsize.

Just beyond the cars, running the length of the conference room, was an impenetrable fog. The cars were already dimmed by it and some were moving sideways into it, fading into the fog and disappearing. The cars were too old now, they had been cared about and cared for, but now they were too old and needed too much work, it was too expensive to keep them. It was sad but it was time now to move them on, maybe to car clubs or collectors or something like that, and people needed to realize that and should accept it, but I didn't know if all of them would.

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