Dream - Trying to fix tardies at school, and other confusion

On Monday, Memorial Day, May 31, 2010, around 10:00 AM-12:50 PM, I dreamed I was at school, near the end of the term, maybe the end of the whole thing. I had had several tardies, along with some other students. They had gotten very strict about it, to the point where if you weren't there when the bell rang you had to go to the office and get it taken care of. The teacher gave you a tiny thing to take with you, some little paper. Now they even had something where the office gave you tiny little colored things, maybe about an inch and a quarter, mostly gray blue, that had a phone number on it that you had to call to get it settled before you could go back to the class.

It was near the end of the school day. After a class a teacher told me he had fixed some of my tardies. I had had four, but he showed me on the little card, about the size of a vertical business card, that he had taken off three, X'ed them out and fixed it so that they were canceled. I still had to go to the office for the other one. He had done it to some other people, too.

I went to the office. A girl was ahead of me, and the person was explaining to them about the phone number. It was an odd number, given in letters for the last four digits. It didn't seem long enough for a phone number, but I was probably expecting an area code, though I didn't think of that back then. The calling-a-number requirement was something that had been initiated by the corporate people in charge, and apparently covered all the schools owned by that company.

It was getting late and I had to get back to class, but there turned out to be confusion about the class. The two that I had to go to were being held at the same time. Some of the students were in one room and some in the other. The students realized what had happened and a lot of them were joking about it, though some seemed subdued and worried, more in one of the rooms than the other.

I didn't know what to do. I went back and forth from one room to the other, trying to find a teacher I think. When one finally showed up, he started immediately running the class. I tried to talk to him about it, but he wasn't interested and just looked mad, like I had bothered him for something that wasn't his problem. Meanwhile the bell had rung and I was late for two classes being held at the same time. I saw the students in the one I was in bending over their tests, hard at work.

I went back to the office, trying to explain what had happened. The woman gave me the two little colored papers and was carefully explaining about calling the number, and then I had to give them a number off the paper apparently, and maybe explain my situation. She didn't give me a solution about the classes being held at the same time, maybe just saying that she would have to look into it.

I left and hurried down the hall. The place was set up something like DeVry, a big square with a hallway that ran around the edge with rooms on each side. I was trying to find a phone. I think I saw a couple, but they were already in use by other students trying to fix their tardies. I finally left to go somewhere else, that I thought would have phones. I think I left one of the little pieces of paper on something on the covered sidewalk around the school.

I went to the other place and was going through it. It seemed like a hospital, and was laid out like DeVry. Going down the hall quite a ways I came across some phones. They were hooked up to some video displays set into the walls. Some of them were being used. I saw a video game was being played on one, and it had something on the screen that might be important, a little rectangular box with numbers in it, and a smiling and frowning creature standing off to the right, who might have been an ogre but who looked something like the Looney Tunes Tasmanian Devil character. I couldn't get the person to give up the phone to me. A man was letting his son play the game to pass the time so he would have something to do while they were waiting, someone was having an operation evidently. A phone to the right of it had another video game being played, something with a genie I think. It didn't look useful to me.

I went back and forth between them for a while. There was another phone or two to the left of them, but I think one of them was being used by someone to make a call. I wanted to use the video game with the box on the screen that might be useful too, and I didn't know if I could find it on my own. The person playing the video game that had the box finally stopped and left, with his father, but now the screen was dark.

I started looking at the number on the little piece of paper again. It was not the number I remembered seeing on it earlier, the same one that had been given to the others. Now it was a regular number and it had one of those free area codes on it, starting out something like 1-877-... I was puzzled, but assumed I would have to call this one. I couldn't understand why there had been a change. I wondered if I had to give them a number when I called. I had left one of the little papers back at the school, and wasn't sure if it was still there. It would delay me a lot to have to go back and get it. It was getting late and the classes were almost over now, I thought. I wasn't sure what I could do to fix it, but I would try to explain what happened and hope something could be worked out.

I went off to try to find someone who could explain about getting into the program I had seen on the display, the video game. I started trying to go to the upper stories, hoping to find a nurse or someone who could explain it. I went to one of the corners to take the stairs, but I found that they were being worked on. They were roped off with yellow tape, and a young man and a young woman were painting them. They were maybe eight to ten feet apart, doing different sections. The wood had been kind of a dirty dark color, but was being painted yellow. The stairs themselves were much simpler constructions than I had expected, being simple boards nailed together, even the railing just seemed to be 2 x 4's. It was a very wide open area, much more so than I expected, with the stairs going back and forth beside themselves, at shallow angles.

I reached out and tentatively touched and took hold of the yellow tape, preparing to go under it anyway. I paused and asked the young man if it was okay if I used the stairs, I didn't need to touch the railing and I would try to just walk on areas that hadn't been painted or were already dry. He said sure, somewhat jovially, and said to watch out for the paint, some of it was wet.

I started to carefully walk onto the stairs. Some of the steps were partly painted, sometimes with the painted part not covering it completely, not put on heavy enough to get into the surface everywhere, creating a kind of fog effect, with a lot of the old surface showing through, like the brush or roller had been too dry when the paint was applied, and it would have to be painted over again. While most of it immediately ahead of me was dry, the one I had to step on first was wet, one of the partially painted ones. I stepped on it and quickly on to some dry steps, apologizing. I was touching the railings too, but they were either partly dry or hadn't been painted. I was heading up, at least at the moment. The stairs also led down, to lower levels.

I was talking to them about what I was trying to do, and I think one of them mentioned a way to speed it up. I saw a little wooden boat that had drifted up, outside the railing, floating I guess on air, though it seemed almost like a dark ghost water. The boat was simple in construction, like the stairs.

I climbed over the railing to it, talking now like Clint Eastwood, and maybe a little like Humphrey Bogart. I came to look like Clint Eastwood now, and it seemed to have changed to a mystery, and something about some evil people who had gone upstairs and were waiting for me, trying to stop me. They had been sent by someone. I talked some about that and about what I was doing there. I was confident that I could take care of them. There would be others too, sent to stop me when I was trying to leave, and I also had to solve the mystery of the numbers, and get that taken care of, and the answer to that mystery should be somewhere upstairs.


Earlier in the dream I had been driving to school in the gold 1970 Cadillac. There had been some problem with other cars, about them trying to stop me, threatening to crash into me, but the Cadillac, already big and sturdy, got even bigger and taller, and with even thicker sheet metal, and crashed into them, knocking them away, bouncing them way back or to the side and sometimes even sending them tumbling. I had stopped there on the street and talked to someone about it, and about what was happening, and about what the Cadillac could do, before getting in again and doing it some more. I don't remember much about it, though.

Dream - The policeman, the UFOs, and the long garden hose

On Saturday, May 29, 2010, around 3:00-11:30 AM, I dreamed I was in the Phoenix area, it was dark, and I was driving. I'm not sure what car I was in, possibly the dark blue 1987 Oldsmobile 88, but it could have been the gold 1989 Oldsmobile 88, or even something else. I went up a road going to the north-northwest. It seemed to be on the east side of Phoenix. It wound around a bit, going up, getting up into some mountains that were fairly shallow, not very high, maybe a few thousand feet. It was something that doesn't exist in real life, though there are small mountains around Phoenix.

A policeman went up there, too. I was worried that he might try to stop me for some reason, some imagined violation, but he turned out to be friendly. He kept repeating his name, and then sometimes going into a longer thing about what he was doing and what his duties were, something like "I'm Officer such-and-such, ..." (I don't remember what his name was anymore).

Up near the top of the mountain, in a small, slightly lower area surrounded by ground and peaks that were a little higher, an area that seemed to be partly cut out of the mountain, there were some small buildings, and more further on. It was some kind of government thing. They were checking people that went through, and people evidently were supposed to go up there periodically to get their papers updated and renewed. It was something fairly simple. They were asked a few questions and I guess had to fill out some simple forms, not much more than a few things to fill in, including signing it, though the forms were regular paper-sized and had two or three layers with carbon paper between them. While this happened their cars were being looked at by mechanics, put up on hoists, etc. The government was also doing some kind of scientific research, though, at least partly unrelated to the other.

I think my mother also came up, in a separate car. We might have been expecting my father too, I'm not sure. The policeman showed up, and was again saying who he was and what he did, in a kind of loud droning way, like it was a prepared speech he did often, but he was also there giving updates on something. We managed to leave after a while, without having to go through much, maybe fill out a few places on the forms, which I think my mother handled instead of me. The forms were mostly text, giving instructions and explanations I guess, with just a few places to actually enter things. They may have looked at her car some, but I don't think they did it to mine.

I left and went back down a little ways, then stopped at some other buildings, going through a series of large passageways with my car. One of the places I stopped was some kind of garage, and it seemed like we at least partly owned it. I saw a Cadillac from the early 1960s, that had been raised up in the air several feet. I looked under the back, at the underside of the huge trunk (where the gas tank would be in real life, but wasn't here). I marveled at the size of it, and the length of the car. It looked like they had a lot of room underneath to make the trunk even bigger, though I knew that it was huge already. Though I had used to drive a car like that, I didn't think I would be able to drive something like that anymore. It was just too big, and I wouldn't know how to properly get around in it, particularly with the cramped parking lots they had these days. I had also earlier seen another car or two, somewhat newer but still older models.

I finally made my way out and went on, going down the long, somewhat winding, gentle slope in the dark. I passed the policeman again, who was also driving down that road, but stopping in places along the way. I briefly heard him saying, "I'm such-and such....", a little plaintively this time, before I was on and past him.

It got to be a little lighter, and I was going along a portion where the road turned west for a while, a portion that was almost level and that could be described as simply higher ground rather than a mountain. Beyond the flat stretch of ground, the road would turn left again, and though relatively flat, would turn more downhill, and would be going again among and through some mountains.

While still on the broad flat stretch of land, I saw ahead what looked like a flying saucer parked in the road. I stopped and got out and walked partway around it. It was possibly 20 feet across and 10-12 feet high, and had no windows or doors that I could see. It was a dull silvery color with a slight sheen, and went down in broad folds, like a giant mass of soft ice cream that had been dispensed from a nozzle. In some places it also had some kind of framework sticking out from under it and to the side, large metal tubes at various angles, painted white.

I had no doubt that it was man-made, and not something from outer space. I didn't know what it was doing there, but suspected it was part of some promotion that was being set up. It took up a large part of the road, mostly my side of the road, but the road was wide enough here, with wide shoulders and flat land beyond, that it could be driven around. While I was there, a few cars went by going the other way, in the gray light. Their lane was squeezed a little but not much. They slowed as they went by, though, both to look and because of the lane restriction. I got back in my car and continued on.

I had brought a long garden hose with me, very heavy duty, with a heavy crisscross outer casing of stiff fiberglass cloth. It had had to be cut at some point earlier, before the trip, and was in two pieces, with the short end perhaps 5 or 6 feet long. It was something from the house. It had been awkward trying to coil it up, it was stiff and had lots of places where it had wound about itself, sometimes in long twisted loops, where it repeatedly turned around, like it was trying to weave itself into a rope. I had tried to coil it up into loops, but at some point all I could do was gather it up into long folds. It was extremely heavy too, and tiring to have to hold. I think part of it had dragged behind the car on the way up, and I had had to try to re-coil, re-gather it up on the mountain. I had needed to take it up there for some reason, though I'm not sure what that reason was, and it wasn't too clear even in the dream. Going back down the mountain, a lot of it had trailed out beside and behind me, several car lengths.

Now, after the UFO, I continued on, and the road wound through some small mountains, not much more than hills, and turned back toward the southeast. I was finally coming down a gentle slope, leaving the Phoenix area, with a car or two behind me. It was dark again, and I was very tired. The hose was still dragging and bouncing along behind me. I was coming down alongside a shopping center to the left of me, a strip mall. It was apparently where Woolco used to be in the old days, but the roads in the area in real life have been redone and rearranged, and the road there no longer goes off through the hills, which in some cases no longer exist.

I noticed another flying saucer in the parking lot, similar to the other one. This one had a few banners that had been partially set up, and there was something else set up nearby, some kind of square roped-off area, with small curtains set up along the ropes, blocking off the interior, and maybe a second roped-off area too. It was going to be some kind of Halloween thing. I think one of them was eventually going to be a haunted mansion and the other was an area for judging costumes. I think I stopped there briefly, and tried to do something with the hose, get more of it gathered up and back in the car. The next road, bordering the shopping center, was Rural Rd., which would turn into Scottsdale Rd. as it went north. I got on it, turning left, going north.

After a while I got to the radiator shop. It was still dark. At least some of the employees had come already, and were out front, near the road, tiredly digging. There were several large holes. One of them had to do with the sign tilting and partly falling over, and the others had something to do with various pipes. They had been at it for a long time. It seemed to be a long term project, to have to keep digging, fixing and working on things. Although I came in from the front, it feels that there was also a version where I came in from the alley.

I stopped there, in front of the shop, and got out and tried to undo the hose and rewind/gather it up, undoing some of the tangle, but it was difficult. I tried to find which end was the shorter one, and finally ended up just pulling on one of the ends until I found one that could be pulled out. My father was there, and was sometimes talking to customers that brought their cars in. One of them was a short woman, in her thirties maybe, very slightly overweight, who stood there smiling brightly as she talked about what was happening with her car, and my father talked to her about it and about other things, and I tried to get something done with the hose.


The dream had a lot more at the beginning, but I don't remember it anymore.

Note: I had another dream, relatively close in time to this one, where a woman was smiling brightly, and a dream about the radiator shop sign being at a tilt (the shop was in a different location, though, not matching any in real life).

Dream - The thieves, the horse, and the battle

On Friday, May 28, 2010, around 9:30-10:30 AM, I dreamed I was at home, looking out the back window, by the kitchen table, with my mother. We were irritatedly talking about people getting in the backyard. It was probably late in the day, getting toward evening. We saw some kids going along the top of the fence, but then it seemed like it was the concrete fence across the alley, not the wooden fence we have. Then a woman was out there and took the kids, slowly, to the backyard of a house a little to the west and across the alley from us. She was talking to them, pleasantly it seemed. Then she got a call in the house, which someone there evidently transferred to her cellphone, and she was saying something like, "Is that the spammers again? I have to take this." As she got back to the house, talking and listening on her cellphone, she turned and looked back at me. I somewhat grimly waved at her, and she waved back.

It got dark. My mother was worried about someone getting in the yard. I went out and looked around a bit. Things were not exactly as in real life. I think the two male mulberry trees were still there, and there were a few things sitting around, on the porch and in the yard, that aren't there in real life. I located a pickaxe, but I think it was mostly the head, I think the wooden handle was mostly rotted away. I picked it up and may have carried it to some place on the porch. We also had a dog we don't have in real life, a medium-to-large size one, as well as at least one small one that may or may not have been similar to ones we have or have had.

I went back inside and told my mother that I didn't see anyone, and told her about the pickaxe, which could be used as a weapon by us. Things were taking on an increasingly chilled, ominous feeling, like something was going to happen. It seemed important that we leave a message about the pickaxe, and send a message about it to some other people, in case they needed to get one, and so they would know about it, and so there would be a record of it if something happened to us. My mother had put something on the refrigerator, held by a magnet, a kind of violet strip of old thin construction paper, with straight lines drawn on it dividing it into boxes. I was talking back and forth to my mother about the measurements, while she was trying to call someone and leave a message. I was talking about the approximate measurements of the head, how big it was, and was giving the thickness of the shaft, which seemed important. As I had measured it near the head, it was something like 2 3/4 inches, and I was writing it in some of the boxes, then I realized I had gotten it wrong and it was actually 3 3/4 inches, and I wrote it in another box. I needed to change the others somehow, I might have to do it later. Then I thought that it would be good to make a small drawing of the pickaxe head, so that there would be no question about how it looked. Then I saw that my mother had already done it, on another narrow scrap of the same paper, that was a little to the right of and partly over the paper I was writing on. The image was drawn vertically, and a little crudely, but was good enough. It was much bigger than I would have done, maybe half a foot or so long. I had been intending to draw a much smaller image.


Then the woman and the kids were back at the fence, near the gate. She was telling them to go inside the yard and get something. They went over the fence and started digging in the yard, and came up with some pale shallow plastic things, like things to put paint rollers in when you are trying to put more paint on them. One of them had a huge pile of scratch pads [small blank notepads, around 3 x 5 inches] from the radiator shop, with advertising on them. It wasn't what they were looking for, though, they were looking for something else.

I was getting mad, and told my mother that I was going to go out there and stop them. I was intending to scare them off and gather up the scratch pads and take them inside, but when I went out and started walking across the yard toward where they were, or had been, I suddenly saw a huge horse, light brown in color, striding purposefully toward me. It was probably around 8 or 10 feet high at the top of its head. I started backing away. The big dog, which had come out from its place of hiding on the porch, stopped and started to back up a bit, too. I turned and started going more rapidly back to the house, the horse was moving too fast. While its eyes looked a little uncertain, it seemed that it intended to head right for me.

I got inside and got the back door shut and I think locked, and went around the counter to the dining area, telling my mother what happened. I went back to check on the door, staying back by the end of the counter, and saw that the horse was bashing at the window in the door with its hoof, looking angry. It didn't seem that the window could stand up to it, and probably not even the door itself. I saw the window, which was longer now than in real life, bending sharply inward, taking its thin metal frame with it, and the window cracking in several places, with big horizontal splits going across it, like it was a plastic sandwich reinforced glass, like a car windshield, and not just regular glass.

I went away, back into the dining area, nervously talking about it with my mother. I went back then and checked, expecting to see that the horse had its hoof and leg through the glass, but instead saw that it was a man there, with his leg hanging through. He was wearing a black mask over his eyes and a black bandanna around his head, and was evidently a burglar. I went back in the dining area and nervously talked to my mother about maybe somehow trying to get the pickaxe. I couldn't remember where I had left it though, was it somewhere on the porch or out in the yard? Then I went back and found the man had gotten most of the way in; his arms and body were in now too, only his other leg was on the other side. He was holding a very small gun in his right hand. I went to him and started trying to twist his leg around. He was looking at me surprised, like he was thinking, don't you see have a gun? He kept trying to get the gun pointed properly at me and I kept twisting his leg and moving it around and up in the way. Then suddenly he had it in his other hand, with a clear shot at me. I stopped, there wasn't anything I could do to block it. I let go and backed up some, wondering if he was going to shoot me, then abruptly he had a another small gun in his other hand, too. He took my mother and me hostage, and took us along with him. He didn't seem really interested in what we had in the house, at least for now. He wanted us to do a job for him, to help him steal something, I guess to prove our loyalty, and in any case make us useful. We left and went out into the night with him. The area now seemed more like Fallon, Nevada than Arizona.

He sent us toward a supermarket. We were supposed to search in the trash cans out front for something that was left by an associate, something from the store. He stayed well away, in the darkness by another building, but it was pretty dark where we were too, not much light to look at the things with. We took out some things. Some of it looked a little interesting, like the paint roller-type shallow container I had seen in the back yard, but we didn't find anything like we were supposed to be looking for. It hadn't been described, only that something would be left there, but we didn't find anything useful or valuable, at least toward the top, where presumably it would be. Something had evidently gone wrong, or maybe he hadn't been able to get out here with it yet.

Suddenly, there was a commotion of some kind in the store. He had evidently been found out. We hurriedly left.

We were wandering around then, wondering what to do. It seemed like a good time to talk to someone in law enforcement, get them involved, but we were also afraid that the man, the crook, might be mad at us and try to hurt or kill us. We finally decided to try to find someone. I remembered seeing a man a bit earlier who I knew was a police detective. We went back to the general area where he had been and eventually found him. We told him about what had happened. He listened and was trying to devise a plan about what to do. He talked to someone on his cellphone about it, and we went to a place where I had earlier seen the horse parked on the street, in a parking place. The horse didn't look so big now, more like the size of a normal horse. I told the man that the horse might know something and be able to help us, though I wasn't sure about its reaction. It looked back at us with a little bit of a mad, irritated, uncertain look as we came toward it. Then it was thanking us profusely as the man untied its rein to free it, and it started talking about how they had mistreated it. It agreed after a pause to help us, seeming to be reluctant to get involved with the man again, and then resumed complaining about how it had been treated.


My mother and I went back to our house, which looked a lot different now, but found the man and his associates were already there, and in the process of stealing some things from it before they left. The man was inside and was handing stuff out to them. Besides the man there were two other people, a somewhat short middle-aged Oriental man and a very tall muscular man who appeared part black and part Asian, and wasn't wearing a shirt. They saw us, and the head man seemed to want to get us, perhaps kill us, but they got in an argument. The others, particularly the Oriental man, didn't want to do it, and the Oriental man wanted to let us go. He was yelling at the head man, and he had a weapon that was two heavy hooked-together dark sticks. The hooks were just heavy eyelet type things and weren't sharp, they were curved around so they were almost closed and had blunt ends. He was swinging it around his head, threatening to throw it at the head man, but the head man threw an odd thin metal black piece, very slightly bent, with a wider thing at the back end, like a small light gray pipe that went over it like a handle. It hit the Oriental man in the leg near the hip, going almost straight down, and went in deeply. He screamed, but kept on standing.

The fight continued, all three of them in it, generally separated quite a bit from each other, 10 or 20 or more feet at times, throwing things at each other and yelling. It may have been mostly the associates, widely separated, fighting the boss, but it seems the associates sometimes threw things at each other too. Sometimes a couple of them got close enough together to get into a struggle, and try to swing their sticks or whatever they were holding, trying to hit the other person's back or whatever else presented a good target, or trying to stab the other person, if the weapon was of that type, and sometimes one or the other of them would get tossed or flipped. Then they might get separated by a bit and sometimes one would even chase the other briefly, till the person chased got far enough away or the fight became more equal again.

After a bit either the Oriental man or the part Asian, part black man threw some of the sticks at me. I managed to avoid them and they landed at my feet. They were apparently intended to hit with the hook and cut into a person, though the hook was curved over and blunt. It seemed the proper way of throwing them was to swing them around your head and somehow quickly unhook the one that wasn't being held, to let it go flying at whatever was being aimed at. I got two of them sent at me, still hooked together. You could hook three together, I saw it done, and let loose two and still be holding one, though I'm not sure it was done in this case. I was trying to throw them back, and I think I did, throwing both, not trying to get one unhooked, but it was awkward and I don't think I hit my target.

At some point, I saw the horse coming back, a pleasant and hopeful look on its face, but as it got closer it became aware of what was happening, of the crooks being back and the fighting. Its eyes widened and stared at the scene, and its expression drifted downward into a surprised dismay. It leaned its body back, pushing at the pavement with its hooves, slowing itself to a halt and then backing up. It turned and left, looking back once or twice at us, a nervous grimace on its face.


Then the Oriental man was going off with the head man. They had some kind of carriage, like a horse might pull, but no horse this time. It was filled with stuff. They were going along beside and behind it, pushing and guiding it I guess. They had gotten pretty far away already, maybe a hundred feet. I had a couple more of the heavy dark hooked-together sticks, ones that had been thrown at me, and I took careful aim, thinking I could get them this time, and threw the sticks. They flew forward at them, scooting along the ground after a while, but still heading straight for them. It looked like I might get them. I think I even had a line attached so I could pull on it, to drag them back when they got hooked.

All of a sudden the sticks stopped and started coming back, going backward, and I saw that they had one or two more sticks hooked onto them. The tall, muscular, part Asian part black man was standing a few feet from me, laughing, and pulling on the line, dragging them back. He had thrown his own sticks at them, and hooked them. I was apprehensive about what was going to happen now, but he seemed friendly and genial, not wanting to harm me, and amused at the situation. He didn't want me to harm the others, either, or get in a fight with them. I had a feeling that I might be able to get him to help us later, maybe help us escape or even turn against the others and get them captured by the police, if I could convince him to do so. He seemed close to being able to do it, but I wasn't sure how close or if I could convince him. He didn't seem willing to let us go at the moment though, or maybe I was too intimidated to even try.

The others came back. Maybe he called and signaled to them, waved them back over, it seemed he might have but I'm not sure. We were captured again.


Then we were together somewhere else, and they were working with various things, bent over some, working at them, with some open boxes around with things in them. They were working in or near the boxes, separated from each other by probably six to eight feet, getting things ready for the next job. The head man was saying, talking about the next job, and what had happened this last time, "At least there were no witnesses."

I was standing a few feet from my mother, who was to the side and slightly behind me, and we were probably about eight feet in front of him, and I said, "But what about next time? What about the next time?" He stopped talking and lowered his eyes, looking thoughtful and subdued and a little chastened, but he continued working, bent over his box. I stopped talking too, suddenly feeling strange and vulnerable, thinking that perhaps I had said too much. We were, after all, witnesses.


More happened earlier, and some more happened in town after we first escaped, but I don't remember it.

Dream - The dimensional doorway in the wall by my bed, and the mysterious woman who helped me through it

On Saturday, May 22, 2010, around 12:05-3:15 PM, I dreamed that when I was little, a woman took me through the wall, into another dimension, and out again, coming out of an opening in the opposite wall of the next room, into the girls' (my sisters) bedroom, which was huge, unlike in real life, and at least temporarily unoccupied, though it had furniture and things. To do it she had to turn a large combination lock that was mounted on the wall or somehow slightly inside the wall. and somehow hidden, and then open a small narrow door that led into the other dimension. The door was perhaps two feet wide and three feet high, and a very thin slab of dull gray metal. Years later, after I had grown up, I was thinking about it, trying to figure it out, had it really happened, how had it been done, how could I find the doorway again. It seemed to be hidden somehow.

A business man who had a large ship contacted me, saying he knew how to do it. I didn't know how he knew about it, or about me. He came to my house and talked with me a while, trying to make a deal. There seemed to be something he wanted from it, in exchange for showing me how to do it. There seemed to be a large treasure involved, stacks of money that had been stored in the wall or other dimension, just beyond the door, not huge stacks, maybe as much as a foot high in places. But there also seemed to be something else that he wanted, that there was something else he could find there, or maybe that going through would give him some kind of power or ability that he wanted, something that would give him an advantage over other people, people that he might be in a conflict with, that would enable him to better battle them. It was a sense I got, he didn't really answer me, though I pressed him a bit upon it.

I laid down on the bed under the window while we talked, at least toward the end of it, and went through some things that had just come in the mail. The bed was my brother's, who no longer stayed here, and now it was my bed, too. I normally slept in the other bed, though, at the side wall, where I also had some mail laying. It was some older mail, and I had earlier been going through some of that while we talked. The door had been in the wall beside my bed, high up, so that the bottom of it was roughly level with the mattress.

Now, on the other bed, I was a little nervous at him seeing what I was doing with the mail. Part of it was a small catalog, mounted on stiff cardboard, showing books and things one could buy, on esoteric subjects, ESP, strange things, etc., and I felt that he would think it was in competition to what he was proposing. Though he glanced at it, he didn't seem to be bothered by it, seeming to just consider it a distraction. Worried about what he really wanted, I was unable to make a decision at the time, and put it off.

I left the room and wandered around. I seemed to be in a huge multistory mansion now, that had a luxury ship's interior as the theme, and some kind of party was going on. I wandered out to the back a bit, and there was a dock, and water beyond, though it wasn't exactly the ocean, maybe an arm of it or perhaps part of a lake.

A man came up with a clown's face, made up that way, though sometimes I could see a different face partly superimposed, that of a seaman, a sailor. He seemed to be middle aged. He said that he could help me against the other man, that he knew of him from earlier. I got the impression that it might have been a past life, one that had ended by being killed by the man or his helpers, or maybe by a past life version of the man. The clown face was apparently just a disguise. He was trying to keep the man from knowing he was there. He said he could help me find the doorway, but I had to go on a search for something involving it, perhaps the combination to open the door, I'm not sure.

I went to a place by the stairway going up, with its wood a varnished polished bright medium brown, and wood pieces on the wall behind it. I went up the stairs a bit, then went over the railing and was climbing on the wood of the wall, sometimes squeezed between it and the railings. Sometimes people were on the stairs, not a great many, and they sometimes looked at me strangely, seeming to wonder what I was doing and if I needed help. I was evidently one of the hosts of the party.

I eventually made my way back down, without finding anything that was useful, though I did find some kind of odd things that were related to it somehow. I felt that I didn't get high enough, but that I had to come down now, it was getting too dangerous for some reason. Maybe I felt the man might be coming back soon and I didn't want him to see me trying to find it. I dropped down the last bit, near a railing piece that ran along the wall above an extremely narrow strip of planter with landscaping. There had been wider areas of landscaped planter strips that I had gone up the wall above in other places earlier.

I wanted to find the clown man again and I think I did so briefly, from a distance, but then I had to make my way back to the part that was my home. Somewhere around then, or perhaps after I got home, the word came to me from a distance somehow, that the man was willing to give up on the matter. He had to give up, his ship was sinking, and he wanted to know my terms, what I would allow him to have.

Going home, I went along a very small narrow concrete bridge that ran along the front, with water to the right and under it, and a small strip of water, just inches, on the left, between the bridge and the building. The concrete was crumbling a bit, though it was clean and bright. It had little bright cement ridges going up at the sides every foot or so, along the very low railing, and they sometimes showed little plants sprouting up where they joined the floor of the bridge. The house had a narrow strip of landscaping running between it and the water.

I finally made it to the front door and went in. Some other people were there, at least part of them family members. I found, or was partly directed to, or maybe somehow remembered it, something on the wall of the girls' room near the window, some homemade decorations that had been made by them years ago. One was a small Christmas tree cut out of green construction paper, now faded with age. It was perhaps eight inches high, and had layers of trees, at slightly different angles, each projecting out slightly from the one underneath, and the later ones, especially the those sticking out the furthest, being smaller than those behind. Some other decorations were around it. Behind the Christmas tree decoration was a heavy steel rod holding it out from the wall an inch or two.

I went to it and was saying something like, "You mean this?" and feeling the rod, "I've known about this." It seems the Christmas tree decoration hid the combination lock dial.

I went and talked to my father, who was in a large bedroom across the hall, next to the master bedroom. He was looking much younger, maybe in his forties. The room he was in doesn't exist in real life. I asked him if he knew anything about a safe that was hidden in the wall. He, looking a little uncomfortable about talking about it, said that, yes, he had put something in, back in the 1960s apparently, so he could save money in it. He had put money in it back then, accumulated it over time. It was still there, he hadn't done anything with it. Most of it, especially the last, I got perhaps more from impressions than him actually saying anything. There was some kind or particular combination of numbers that had to be followed, that corresponded now with positions of other decorations.

He gave me the numbers. They were long numbers, three to five digits long, and it seemed there were three main ones, but he gave me two others that followed them, seemingly secondary ones but ones that also had to be used. The woman from the past who had taken me through it had come back now (she looked somewhat like Jacob's mother from the TV show Lost). She was trying to help me now. We went to the wall with the safe, along with several other people. She was talking to me about it, trying to help, and I was saying that the various number positions corresponded to these particular positions on the wall, these decorations, move it here and here and here, and so on, as I turned the green paper Christmas tree decorations around, back and forth. Most of it involved fairly small movements, making my way through the numbered positions, though not actually seeing the numbers. As I went I became doubtful, unsure of what the later numbers were, but I felt it was something I had to complete, and that I would somehow complete.

Dream - The silver giants and the dangerous devices

On Monday, May 10, 2010, in a sleep period around 9:00 AM-12:45 PM, I dreamed I was in a place like DeVry (a college I went to), square, with halls around the edges. It was at least two stories, maybe more. I spent a lot of time wandering around. Sometimes I went to different stories, but there was some difficulty in doing so. The passages going up or down were generally at the corners, and it was more like climbing up out of, or going down from, a big square hole in the floor. Sometimes I climbed up on top of things, even narrow room dividers. I'm not sure exactly what purpose the place had, though it seemed to be partly a school, but also partly a business, maybe even partly a hospital, and had a big area with women doing what seemed to be secretarial and bookkeeping work. I occasionally talked to people I met, teachers and others.

At some point, after I had gone to the second floor, I went back down, an awkward business, and went around to the back, outside. I was on a back corner anyway. It was cool and there was a slight wind, and the light was dim, like it was late afternoon. The sky looked gray-white, almost overcast, streaked with dirt. Things were changing, feeling more ominous.

I was at the southeast corner of the building. I went a little way along the back, and stopped and talked to someone there. He talked about someone coming, and pointed perhaps 50 or 60 feet further along, where a strange figure stood, silver in color, like a statue frosted with aluminum. It was about 8 or 10 feet high, and heavily built, especially the upper body, and had a huge head. It was almost like a Pan figure, a goatman, though it wore some clothes, also silver, pants and shirt and vest, that seemed much too small for it. It seemed to be some kind of ancient minor god that had been awakened and summoned. It was talking to a man and sometimes glanced in our direction. It seemed like it could be dangerous, but it didn't have any personal interest in causing a lot of trouble, and was talking with the man to see if he knew when the person who had summoned him would arrive. He basically seemed to lack direction until that happened, though he had been given a general idea of what was planned. I couldn't hear any of it, it was a matter of what the man next to me said, which wasn't much, and just being able to feel what was happening, and to partly picture it.

It was seeming very creepy out there now, and potentially dangerous, and the man next to me was warning me to get away. When I wasn't doing it, and just slightly backing up, he kept doing it, telling me I had to leave now.

I went back around the corner, and to the front of the building, sometimes looking back, and I think it was probably this time that I left and went out in the parking lot. It was brighter now, sunny, and things felt a lot better. Showing how I could take longer steps than normal, I began actually gliding through the air to extend it, to oohs and ahhs from the people watching. I went past the front of the building, going mostly west, and stepped across a small dividing area of curbs and dirt and brush and across a small road and another dividing area, to another parking section beyond, gliding most of the distance.

There was some question, though, about a device. A tall man was there, who had followed me part of the way across the parking lots. He looked kind of rural, like a tall farm worker. We talked briefly about the device and what it meant. I think it was something left in the parking lot by someone. I decided I had to go back to the building, maybe to tell them about it. I didn't really want to have to go all the way back there. I may have left the device where it was, probably did. It wasn't real big, something mounted on a square bottom that was maybe 12 or 14 inches across. I didn't know what it was for and why it was left, though there was a feeling that there might be some danger about it, like it might be a bomb, and I had a feeling that there was a bad guy that had been lurking around that had done it. I don't think I ever saw the bad guy, except sometimes as a dark presence, not close to where I was but off quite a ways. We didn't know if he or whoever left the device was going to come back and get the device, either.

I went all the way back to the building, back to the back corner, and was trying to get up to the second floor. I think I ended up going up and down two or three times. Someone had to point out to me how it was done, and I think it was in fact a little different than before, though part of it was that I had gotten a little rusty, I felt. There was a lot more activity now, too. I climbed up the homemade ladder, a wide rickety structure of old boards, with the steps just being big thin boards, on edge, with the flat side nailed to the front of the two boards that made up the sides. There were actually two ladders, one that went perhaps two thirds of the way and another one that loosely hung down at an angle partly over the top of the one below. The passage was also very cluttered, mostly filled with other things, some of which projected out in the way. The passages had been cluttered before, though.

At some point it was noticed that someone had left a device there, on a square piece of thin gray board or metal, about 8 inches or so across. It was something somewhat complicated, held down by a gray metal strap that was bolted to the bottom. It had something in it like a gray flare, but shorter and wider, and softer looking, like it was made out of cloth and stuffed. It had wires and tubes too I think, along with maybe a few other things. I noticed it for a while before I said anything, but one of the times I was using the passage I finally said something about it. I was intending to leave soon and I just couldn't leave it that way. Some people looked at it and picked it up, and I think I even held it for a while, maybe even taking it up with me and asking about it with the people up there, the women in the apparent secretarial/bookkeeping section. I did go up and ask about it, even if I didn't bring it with me. One of the women in the secretarial/bookkeeping section was talking to me about it, while I got up on something, a tall room divider near a wall I think, and crouched down on it, near the ceiling. As I talked to her from about 10 feet away, she was sometimes talking to other people on a phone that was mounted to her head, with a small microphone that came around to the front. She said she called someone about it, but hadn't heard back yet.

I noticed that she had something similar herself, on the floor beside her, though less complicated, and the padded gray tube had turned and was turning, bending in the middle at a place past the strap, forming a short right-angled section. I said I wondered if that was it, that they had been sabotaged, changed so that when they started doing that they became dangerous and might do something.

I had a white plastic pen in my right front pants pocket. They had been given out by the company, lots of them. They had the company name on them, it was kind of a commemorative thing, with advertising. I wondered if they were all going to change, become like that, that it had been something that was planned, and the one in my pants pocket might be changing now, I felt that it was, becoming wider and softer, as part of the transition to something else, and that they might all become bombs, or whatever it was that the enemy had planned for them. With so many around, practically everywhere in some parts of the building, it was going to be very difficult to stop it, to find them all, and everyone might have to leave, evacuate.

Dream - The radiator shop which was "That Which Cannot Be Named"

On Thursday, May 6, 2010, in a sleep period running from possibly 2:00 AM (give or take a couple of hours) to 9:30 AM, I dreamed I was at the radiator shop, which in the dream was in an outdoor shopping center/plaza. It was a fancy plaza, somewhere near the university on the south, but somehow also near downtown Scottsdale, to the east on the north end. The plaza was divided by a divided roadway that ran through it, but traffic was usually light and people walked in the road as well as on the sidewalks. It had a lot of fake brick for crosswalk areas and medians and for trim. There were also some tall narrow slanted structures in places between the lanes, as decorations, maybe rising 10-15 feet, made of what seemed to be fancy concrete block, maybe coated with a clear varnish.

I had been gone from the radiator shop for a long time, but now I was back in it, working. I think I was brought back by my father, who was much younger looking, more like he was in his mid forties. Scott was there I think, and maybe Rick, looking as they had when they worked there decades ago, possibly Chuey too, but I'm not sure. Some other people worked there, too. I was at a bit of a loss, and wasn't sure I liked being back there. It had been a long time since I had worked in the shop, and I didn't know anything about what was going on. I understood it in a general way, in that jobs were being done, a lot of them from car dealers, and radiators were being repaired, and I understood how that was done, but I didn't know the details of any of the jobs, I didn't know what had come in or anything.

I went and sat in the office, which was at the front on one side. People rushed around doing things, sometimes going by the office or close enough that I could see them through the doorway, which I think faced a hallway, but the hallway also had a doorway immediately at the other side going to the front room. Sometimes people briefly came into the office, too. I was supposed to work at the invoices and bookkeeping I guess, but I hadn't done that for a long time, and I would have to carefully work my way into it, and I wasn't sure how much currently needed to be done, how much I had to catch up on, and I didn't even know what kind of bookkeeping they were doing now, whether it was like it was before or if they were doing something else. I made brief stabs at starting to do something, without ever actually starting or even getting to the point of examining things.

My mother, or someone, reminded me a few times that I needed to hurry, that my nieces and nephews were in a costume contest. They wore Halloween costumes, or something like it, and after the contest there was going to be a party there. It wasn't Halloween or even close, it was more like summer, but they were having it anyway. I could see it in my mind, up near Scottsdale Rd., a lot of kids in costumes standing outside in a roped-off square area, near a building, waiting for it to be time to be judged. It was afternoon now, and I think the judging and/or giving out of awards was going to take place closer to 5:00 PM, though I didn't know the exact time, and it could take place earlier.

I fiddled with things at the shop for a while, without actually doing anything besides occasionally talking to people, then finally walked out the front, which faced to the east, and walked along the shopping center to the north. When I reached the edge of it, I looked toward the east, toward where the contest would take place, a few blocks away, and I think I might have walked in that direction for a bit, but I couldn't see anybody and thought I must have missed it, that they must have been judged already and then gone inside, or maybe it was even already all over and everyone had gone home. I guess I thought about walking down to check, but went back to the shop. Maybe I wanted to finish up things there first or tell them I was leaving.

It was late in the day, and the sun was almost down. I walked back along the walk, going by the long building with its different stores, though a lot of it was still empty, and part still unfinished. It was made of bricks of a fancy dark shiny material, maybe that's what the structures in the median were made of too.

I couldn't find the radiator shop though, it wasn't anywhere. I walked back and forth along the building. The shop was somewhere in the northern portion, but there was no sign for it, and the doors I saw, which weren't many, were closed. Finally I talked to someone about it, someone who had been walking by, and the person said something about there being a problem with the city, that they didn't like the idea of a radiator shop there, and forbid that there be radiator in the name. I noticed a place in the wall that had big dark areas where signs could be, black rectangles where thin boards painted black had been put, and it came to me, perhaps helped along by the person I was talking to, that they were allowed to put up signs saying what the shop was during business hours, but had to take them down afterward, and that a small ad had even been placed in the New Times newspaper, joking about it, and saying that the business was "That Which Cannot Be Named," and I think they were even considering making that the official name. The shop name didn't show up on the building now because it was closed, it had gotten after 5:00 PM while I had walked to check on the kids in the costumes. Everyone had gone and I couldn't get in now.

I decided to walk toward the south, and after a while crossed the street to the other side of the plaza. I came to some rooms that were very unfinished, with open fronts and boards and debris in the rooms. Some other people also came up to them and were interested in them. There seemed to be some kind of mystery involved. I think they were supposed to meet someone there, maybe earlier, but the person didn't show up. I went in the rooms of the two places, crawling around on my hands and knees through the dust and the scattered boards, which tended to be in untidy piles near the edges of the rooms, especially toward the back. They talked about things while I went, following along. They sometimes wondered too why I was there, what my connection to it was. I said I think something to the effect that I was just looking around at things. They wandered off after a while, not all of them together, and I left, too.

I went off at an angle toward the east-southeast, initially still crawling. One of the men walked along with me for a while, a man in late middle age, who was dressed well. His hair, white on the sides, was combed straight back. A little ways after I left the building I got back to my feet and walked along. After a little while he made a remark though about my leg, asking what was wrong with it. I guessed I must have been limping a little. I said something about me being in the hospital I think, and pulled up my right pants leg a little and showed him the tan pressure bandage, the special cloth bandage wrapped tightly around my leg. We continued walking on, him being perhaps ten feet or so from me much of the time, and a little ahead of me.

After a while we came to another plaza. It was on the southeast corner of some roads. It was night now or close to it. We both went into the building, though it was closed. I think he may have still been hoping to meet someone, but I'm not sure. We wandered around inside for a while, though we got separated at some point. It got to be very late. The place was unfinished, some places very much so, with rooms or even aisles that had lots of boards sitting at odd angles, sometimes against the partly finished walls, and plasterboard that was sometimes put up and with the nail depressions plastered over, but otherwise unfinished. Some of the rooms and aisles were so blocked by the boards that it was difficult to get in them or through them, and I tried a few times but didn't get much past the entrance to them. It didn't seem worth trying harder than that and I was a little nervous about doing it, or about being there at all. It didn't seem likely that they wanted people here, late at night with it closed, and especially not in places that needed a lot of work. Most of the places, though, were simply closed up, and many of them had the entrances walled over, like there were no stores there now, though I think some were simply closed for the night. There didn't seem to be many that way though, like a lot of it was still vacant spaces. The man was still with me then, or at least loosely with me, since we still tended to be separated by quite a bit. We sometimes ran into other people too, an occasional maintenance worker. I worried about them a bit, and though some of them looked at us a little strangely, they continued on their way, though I wondered if one of them would call somebody about us.

After a while I turned to the left, to the north, maybe on his suggestion. The other way was mostly blocked anyway, and I had just been trying to get in a room that was mostly blocked. As I took the aisle to the left, to the north, I soon came to a large broad open room to the right, to the east. It was unfinished but not too terribly cluttered. People were practicing for a play. It was something set a few hundred years ago, and some of them were dressed for their parts and some weren't. They paused when they saw me, and one of the people, a middle aged woman who was slightly overweight, came up to me and explained that they were trying to get ready for a play that was going to be put on in a day or two. She said the place was supposed to be finished by then, they had assured her it would, but she looked back to the side a little doubtfully at it, saying she wasn't sure.

As she talked, she walked forward at a slight angle, to the west-southwest, and as we crossed the aisle I saw that there was another large unfinished room there too, but a little smaller than the other one, that led to another room, a little lower and slightly to the southwest. Other people were there, in both rooms, but were headed for the farther one, practicing some part in the play, though some looked back at me as they went. Some were in costumes but maybe not all. The woman started trying to talk me into being part of it, "Say, you could...," wanting me to play one of the parts, maybe just as an understudy. I kept declining, "No, no....", but she kept insisting I could do it, that there was time. It didn't seem like there was much time to me, to learn all the part in a day or two. I was afraid I would forget some of it, was almost certain I would, while I was trying to do it in front of the audience. I didn't really want to get involved in it anyway. I didn't say anything about it though, and we walked on into the first room, heading to the second, as she kept talking about it.


Note: At the time of the dream, I had recently been in the hospital for a severe infection in my lower right leg, and still had a pressure bandage on it. Although I could (and did) walk, it showed up in the dream with me crawling for a while with it.

Dream - The little blue alien that visited my mother

On Monday, October 11, 2010, around 4:00-5:20 AM, I dreamed I walked into the living room from the hallway, and saw a small gray-type alien standing in front of my mother, who looked asleep. She was sitting down, and was at the other, west, end of the room, at the far end of the house actually, in a long narrow area that in the dream ran along the end. It didn't seem to fit with the rest of the house and almost seemed an afterthought, like a filled-in carport. She was wearing a gray sweat shirt and sweat pants, and was sitting on a square couch-like area that ran around a table, with the ends of the couch against the walls, in front of a big window to the front yard area. Her head was tilted a little forward and a little to the side, her eyes closed, and she seemed to be murmuring something, repeating back what the alien was communicating to her. I'm not sure if the alien was actually speaking, or just communicating with its mind, by telepathy. They seemed to be in some kind of communion together, and I felt that they had had many such meetings before.

The alien wasn't actually gray, it was a kind of blue, almost shiny, like leather. It was probably about three feet high. Its head was huge, becoming slightly two lobed at the top, tapering down some almost in a triangular fashion, to a small neck that was relatively short. Its back was to me, and I could see only a little of the side of it. I thought at first it was the little gray kid from next door who sometimes came and talked to her (in the dream it was a human kid who sometimes came over, a little boy with short crew cut-like grayish blond hair), but the whole scene immediately disturbed me for some reason. Then I realized what it really was, an alien, and my eyes grew big.

The alien seemed to sense that something was happening and started to turn its head a little, tilting it slightly, a big black eye partly showing, then all of a sudden it was a faint blur heading my direction and a little to the side, and then fading out. It was gone in a tiny fraction of a second. If I had blinked at the wrong time I would have missed its exit, it was over so fast.

I went off after the gray (really blue) alien, following it into a dining area where several tables were located with people sitting at them. Beyond was another doorway, a large one, that the thing had apparently gone through. There seemed to be little dots of light floating in the air. I wondered if it was somehow the creature, or was maybe something connected with it using a teleportation device or dimensional portal. I swatted at them. They weren't very numerous, just occasional dots, maybe only one or a few visible at once. I felt a slight impact when connecting with them. I turned and the people at a large table there were laughing, though only some of them were looking my way. They had little laser pens and were making dots in the air. Most of the dots were toward the other end of their table. They were having fun with them, just with the making of them and also with seeing if they could confuse people. I said that I could feel it when I hit them, and swiped at the dots again a time or two. I said it a couple of times, but I'm not sure if they believed me.

I wandered off toward the front of the building. The series of rooms kept getting higher, and seemed to have wooden floors, with short transitions that sloped up to the next level. I went though a level that seemed to have something to do with the radiator shop, and then one at the end that seemed to be a house again. My father was there, looking much younger, maybe in his forties. My mother had looked much younger, too. He was talking to some people. They seemed to be minor TV or movie stars, middle aged, who had decided to take up martial arts, and were doing swinging kicks in the middle of the room, but holding on to each other so that the kicks swung way out to the side. My father was sitting on a some dark couch way out into the room, and kicks from one of the people went swinging out way over his head and behind the couch, and swinging back around. On a kick or two the kick scraped against the left-front side of my father's face; apparently it was intended to just brush it, but contacted it a little more firmly than it should have. My father had a shiny piece of thin pale flexible plastic stuck to his face in that area, and he reached up to it and complained a bit, remarking that it might have left a mark (an abrasion) on him that might take a few days to heal, and he would have to walk around like that and explain it to people.

Someone was standing on the other side of my father, a fairly short person who might have been a female, who I think had relatively short blondish hair that stuck out some at the sides, like it was poorly combed. The face of that person was also brushed by a kick, but more lightly, evidently at the planned pressure, though I was never sure whether the extra force on my father's face might not have been intentional. The person who did it remarked on it, but didn't seem to apologize. He and the person he was struggling with sometimes talked, sometimes to each other. After a while they stopped practicing and were wiping the sweat off their faces, and talking some more. I got the feeling that they were hoping to get some Stallone-like movie roles.

I went back to my mother, who had gone over toward the other side of the house, toward the bedrooms, and had gotten a very small gray alien against a small black briefcase, and wanted me to tape it down. I found some Scotch tape in a different room and came back with it. I saw though that she had lots of little aliens taped on already, one to two inches high. The first one was much smaller now, too. I wondered if they could get air, or if they even needed it.

I went looking for a magnifying glass, and went back up to the the upper levels. I tried to get back down to the lower level with a wooden staircase/ladder set in a half-size door opening, but found most of the slats broken away, and I started hanging onto the handle loop of a giant wooden basket they were slowly swinging back and forth and slowly lowering. A man, who might have been Buzz from the TV soap opera "Guiding Light", was in it singing a slow made-up song about a woman, Mary Tyler Moore maybe, who was in the hospital but he hoped would be out soon. The song was to the tune of a familiar one, I think I was thinking Auld Lang Syne, but when I woke up I realized that wasn't the one. I was hanging on to the huge arching handle of the basket, on the side near the top, as it slowly swung back and forth and slowly got lower, toward the small happy crowd below and also heading toward something else, some kind of round walled enclosure maybe five or six feet high, with something in it. The enclosure seemed to be the intended destination.

The long basket handle was fairly thin for its size, and it had a place where it was hooked together with something, a bright metal wire clasp almost like a safety pin or maybe even a paper clip, with a gap of several inches. It seemed a somewhat inadequate repair. I was holding on to the basket handle, on both sides of the clasp, hanging on. The clasp came unhooked then, basically slipped off a notch on the upper portion of the handle, and I was holding the basket handle, with one hand on each section, keeping it from separating too much. I had to go the bathroom and hoped they would hurry this up, but they seemed to be taking their time, as the basket slowly swung and very slowly got lower, and the man kept singing. It looked like it would have been better to take another route down, gone down by some other stairs, but it was too late now.

The dream had a lot more earlier in it, but I don't remember it.


I eventually mentioned to my mother that I had had a dream with her talking with an alien in the living room. She didn't like that idea.


Note: Oddly enough, at the end of the Amazing Race episode on Sunday, October 17, 2010, the two men who came in last and had to leave the race were apparently singers, and sang a slow song at the end about being last, to the tune of some Irish song that I can't remember, maybe Danny Boy but that may not be it. The song seemed eerily reminiscent of the tune in the dream, but with different words of course. The dream may have been predictive of it, almost a week before it happened.

Dream - The imitation Superman and the Kryptonian lettuce-man

On Monday, September 6, 2010, Labor Day, sometime in the afternoon, while napping at the computer, I dreamed I was in the neighborhood, going along 74th St., back to the house. Earlier I had been in a shopping center, that it seems went in parts into a shallow cave. I was also sometimes in a very large tunnel dug out of the earth, with uneven dirt walls. I was a long time in this part of the dream. I was a Superman-like figure, but at the same time apart, someone else too. There were some Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen and Perry White people, too.

Now I was also two people going back to the house somehow, generally separated, one sometimes more back by McDowell Rd. We had been at a shopping center there, where Los Arcos used to be.

Somebody was suspicious of me/us. I turned onto a cross street, still heading home, and something happened, I'm not sure if there was a struggle, or if I just confronted him and overpowered him, but I ended up carrying him around for a while, like a very large stuffed pillow. I got home, and he wouldn't give up, and I finally banged his head repeatedly and violently on things, holding his body and swinging him down. He was now more like a Teddy bear made out of a pillow. Some other people came in and wondered about what I was doing, maybe the Jimmy-Lois-Perry people, but I quickly hid him. Then after a while, I sneaked him out the window with me. He was much smaller now, and I held him against me like a light gray throw pillow wrapped up in some cloth.

I took him back to the shopping center where Los Arcos used to be. It was several stories high, maybe as many as six or eight, and was still under construction, though it was being used. I tried to hide him somewhere, but then had to move him. Eventually, I was high up on a partially finished section. I was going to try to sneak him out, but construction workers were around. It seems I was temporarily injured or weakened somehow, too, and didn't have all my powers. After sneaking along the section I was on, I tried to cross the gap to another, higher part of the building. Some scattered workers saw me and remarked on it, saying that something seemed to be wrong with me. Flying up and across a little, I managed to reach up and pull myself up onto the building section. People knew I was Superman and I didn't want them to know that something was wrong with me. I wasn't the real Superman, just a lesser imitation somehow, and knew this, but they didn't. They were wondering what I was doing, excited about it and talking among themselves while they watched me. I tried to seem like everything was alright, smiling, tried to seem purposeful. I still had to hide the package, the cloth-wrapped pillow-like man, somewhere. I put it in the section of the building I had reached, temporarily hiding it there. This area was still under construction, and probably no one would come here for a while.

A little later, I came back and got it and walked behind the buildings. It was still about the size of a flat throw pillow, wrapped up in cloth. There was a lot of mostly open land, fields, with widely spaced homes. I took it to where they were growing some lettuce-like things, something like leaf lettuce, a little purplish looking. I tried to hide it among them. A man was there, bent over, working. He somehow knew what was going on, and had even been waiting for me. He looked up at me in immediate understanding, and grunted an acknowledgment. We had actually done this sort of thing before. He was going to hide it among the densely packed rows of thick bunches of lettuce leaves. People most likely would never look way out here, or suspect anything, but if they did come out it would be hard to see without doing a thorough search, which they would have no reason to do. The package actually seemed to blend with the lettuce as I handed it toward him, and as we were both holding it for a time, it was coming to look something like the lettuce, seeming to become in part purplish lettuce. I hoped that it would be alright, that he would be alright. He was injured when I was beating up on him, and I hoped he would heal. The lettuce was actually from Krypton, Kryptonian lettuce, and it seemed that the genes from it would be partly blended into his, making him actually part lettuce. Since the lettuce was from Krypton, it too had superpowers, and I hoped and felt that being partly made of it would speed his healing and make him stronger faster, make him much better able to heal, and that he would get better quickly, in only a few days.

Then I went away from the area, to the edge of it, on I guess the north, and it seemed the land blended into a large ship, though embedded in the land, and I was walking along it along the way between the railing and the rooms. I met some people along the way, some of whom seemed to be against me. It seems I was at least partly disguised as Clark Kent at least part of the time. I also met some people from work, maybe Jimmy and Lois. There were some small struggles at times, and something about the lettuce-man coming back, sometimes as partly a man I think, and there was some worry that someone was going to try to hold it over me, what I had done to him, use the threat of exposure of it to control me. I don't remember much about it anymore.

Dream - Harry Potter, Mr. Monk, and the pizza of appreciation

On Sunday, August 29, 2010, around 7:00-10:30 AM, I dreamed it was daytime, and I was driving to the other (west) side of Phoenix, in the 1970 Cadillac. My mother might have been with me. I went to an open place, not much development, with dirt and some desert vegetation, bushes, and small trees. The ground was rising up some, in a roll. Before that it seems there was a small canal running across the land, a few scattered buildings, not much. I spent quite a bit of time there, in the beginning of the dream, but I don't remember much about it.

Then I was in Tempe, it seems around the Mill Ave. area, more or less. It was late afternoon, evening, or might have been very early morning instead. I might have stopped in a small store of some kind. There were lots of small cross streets. It wasn't really as it is in real life, though it's possible it might have more of a resemblance to it as at was decades ago, combined with other things. It's possible my mother was with me, I'm not sure. I went back there a few times, and possibly she wasn't initially with me, but I know she was later.

We went to an area that had recently been constructed, still under construction in places. A major road went north/south, and on the east a smaller road looped out from it, more curved on the south side but with a sharper corner on the north, before it went back straight to the main street. Pale stucco buildings and walls lined the loop road; some of the buildings were right at the sidewalk and some set back some, with low stucco walls in front. It was a narrow, residential-sized street, with parallel parking, some in indents. Some cars were parked there now. I got the Cadillac in a narrow space, somehow, by force of will it seems, magic, somehow lifting it sideways, mostly with my mind. Later, I would make several trips there, and collapse the car to a small bundle of things, letting me park it wherever I wanted.

There was a house in the loop formed by the road. It had a broad front yard going to the main street, and a much smaller back yard, hardly anything at all, with a very small asphalt paved parking area at the back, with curbs, and a lane that ran through under the house, like a driveway. The back yard, with its parking area, ended at the loop road. Sometimes the front yard was much larger, especially at the beginning. A family lived in the house, mother and father and several children, of varying ages. The house seemed somehow reminiscent of my grandmother's house in Arizona, at least some of the interior of it, even having an old organ in the living room, but the outside of the house didn't look anything like it.

I went in it and talked to the people a bit, and it seems that the Harry Potter kid did also at some point. I think they were all excited and happy to see him. A new Harry Potter movie series was being made, with a new person playing him. It had been a long time since the last one, maybe a couple of decades, and the previous actor was middle-aged, too old to play him. They were doing a search for a new boy to play him. What seemed to be the favorite was a shy, slim, quiet boy with a crew cut, pale light brown, almost blond hair. As I kept looking at him, it sometimes seemed that he was older, and that the hair on the sides, very short there, was actually gray or white. I kept seeing him on a street corner, in a mixed residential/commercial area, where I guess they first discovered him. I had a feeling he could do real magic, or could be trained to. Sometimes, too, I seemed to be him.

Mr. Monk (from the TV show Monk) showed up sometimes, and was apparently interchangeable with the boy playing Harry Potter. He went to the house in the loop, where he had found that he was accepted and the people liked him. He kept going back frequently, sometimes more then once a day. He was very happy and smiling, that he had found some people who liked and accepted him. He got in the habit of always bringing them a pizza, to show his appreciation with them.

I got the flat pile of things that represented the car, which we left in the small parking area of a business, behind a low stucco wall, in the straight area on the north that led west to the main road. I had left it on the trunk of another car. There was a small medallion, too, that I used in the process of restoring it. It was a lot easier to do it this way than to try to park the car. I could just carry it and find some impossible parking space and then restore it there. We were leaving now, going away from here for the time being. I worried about losing the medallion, but then had it again. I thought I could probably do it without the medallion, that it might just be a prop I was using to help me do it, but I still worried about it.

My mother had walked on, to the street where my car was parked, the main street. It was perhaps a hundred feet or so down the road from the loop, to the north. This seems contradictory, but I had no problem with it in the dream. I went after her, carrying the flat bunch of things that was my car, its layers of flat things, loosely connected. It seems it might have been clear plastic sleeves, maybe 29 x 18 inches, connected on the end sometimes, with papers or even flattened cloth sheets inside them, with some other things, and maybe 4 to 6 inches high.

I went out to the car, in spite of actually carrying the car in the form of the bundle. I noted the contradiction in my mind. It seemed a little amusing, but that seemed to be the way it was, and I had no ready solution for it. This section of the street didn't have too much built up along it, it had a little bit though, perhaps more on the other side of the street. A few other cars were parked on the street here, but not many. A pale stucco wall ran beside the sidewalk. Several hundred feet ahead, to the north, the road ended where it intersected a major cross street. It late in the afternoon I think, getting toward evening.

My mother had already gotten in the car. I laid the bundle on the trunk momentarily, then opened the trunk and put it inside, the medallion with it I think, then closed the trunk. I was distracted for a bit by someone who had come up on the sidewalk, a woman in her thirties maybe, and talked to her for a little while from several feet away. There were also one or two other people, at least one of which might be associated with her, but I talked to her. It seems the Harry Potter character might have been there too, a little farther away maybe. We might have been talking about him.

I turned back to the car and saw that my mother had gotten tired of waiting and had driven away in it. I hurried after her, calling out, pausing frequently, uncertain what to do, how to proceed. It seemed I could use magic to get to her, zoom through the air somehow, and though it seemed to me that I could do it, I wasn't sure how. She reached the main cross street and turned right onto it. I followed after, sometimes making long hops covering a broad area. Another car was there too, that might have come up from the west. It felt kind of like the road that used to run by Woolco, going to Phoenix, before they changed it. My mother turned left at Rural/Scottsdale Rd., going north. I continued after her. I kept trying to catch up with her, kept trying to reach the car, but was unable to, and mile after mile went by.

I finally caught up with the car, getting a little frantic by this time. It was daylight, I'm not sure what time, but it seemed to be an odd hour, and maybe Sunday. I was in what looked like the downtown, business area of a small town, lots of streets with businesses on them, cars parked at a slant along the streets. I got in the car and talked to my mother, and found that she still wanted to drive. She sat there in the driver's seat, and stayed there. I couldn't convince her to let me drive. I finally got in on her side, and made her move over, though she was actually sitting on top of me at first. She moved over, then, complaining. We were stopped in the street, and had been for a while, but there was no traffic at the moment. I worried about the police seeing us and possibly complaining. I thought I had seen a police car on a nearby street, but nothing happened. Maybe he didn't see us, or maybe we got done fast enough that he decided to let us go. My mother wanted me to drive back to the other side of Phoenix again. I had been trying to go back there too, but it kept getting later, things were taking a long time.

Sometime later I went somewhere, it seems alone, to what felt like somewhere in Scottsdale, possibly in the Hayden Rd. area, possibly somewhere between Indian School and Thomas Rds. I went into a small shopping center, into a room there, a small store maybe. Several people were there. It seemed to be a fan kind of place, maybe a comic book store. There were several people there. I saw a Star Trek fan. He played a character in the store there, and maybe some other places, probably Spock or another Vulcan, as they looked in the original series. He seemed slightly Asian. He looked at me with an amused smile and talked with me a bit. He then gave me a shiny business card, with a broad crosshatched shiny area, the streaks going different ways in each little square/diamond. He wanted me to use the card to contact him later. He apparently had some other place he worked at, too.

Mr. Monk went back/I went back to the residential neighborhood, in the area where they found the boy to play Harry Potter. Three or so other boys were there. They were also hoping to be chosen to play him. I was surprised that the movie people were still looking, I thought the choice had already been pretty much made. The boys were still hopeful. I didn't think they had much of a chance, but didn't say so. One of them was larger than the others, a bit pudgy, with an odd looking head. He was disturbing to look at. He did most of the talking though, more than the other kids. It seemed to be mid to late afternoon, with lots of shadows, and the temperature was pleasant.

It was daytime, then, on a different day maybe, and a person in the house by the loop road, a young man, maybe a teenager, was talking to reporters, from inside, through the window. He said they were getting tired of Monk coming back, and bringing the pizza with him each time. They were getting tired of the pizza, and of him coming all the time. They liked seeing him at first, but they had gotten tired of it, of him coming all the time. The reporter was interested, and was busily writing it down in a notebook. He seemed more of a gossip reporter. Then the kid changed his mind, and didn't want them to say it about the pizza, he felt that it might be giving away too much. He told the reporter to write down a particular soup instead. It was a vegetable/grain soup, gazpacho maybe, but I don't remember the name. The reporter quickly changed what had been written and put down the soup name instead.

Monk went to a small fast-food pizza/Italian place in the outer portion of the road loop. Businesses were packed together there now. It was a lot different from what it was earlier. There was a huge crowd of people on the sidewalks and street. The business was largely take-out, but there was a small dimly-lit inside section. It was the place that the Star Trek person worked. Monk, holding the shiny card and using it to find the address, had decided to get pizza there now; he had been getting it somewhere else before. He/I hoped that it would still taste okay, and that they wouldn't mind the difference. There was a bit of excitement there. The employees, seemingly amused, but intent on doing good service, did some rushing around, but something else seemed to be going on, too. Monk finally got the pizza and headed back over to the house.

He had a lot of trouble getting in. The family didn't want him anymore. It had become too old, and too much of a media circus. He wandered back and forth, going past it on the backyard side and down the driveway to the street, and looking at it from the front side, over the long sloping lawn, from near the street, then going back to the loop street by the back. It seemed to be mid to late afternoon. Sometimes a member or two of the family came out across the back yard to talk to him, with one or two large dogs, maybe cocker spaniels or retrievers, sometimes running ahead of them. But frequently, especially at first, the family just looked out through the windows, sometimes telling him to go away.

After a lot of difficulty, he finally managed to get them to agree to let him in. The pizza seemed acceptable, though some of them looked at it a little curiously, with slight smiles. The kids just seemed to want to mostly play, sometimes sitting on the floor. The adults talked to him casually, with little smiles, but seemed much more distant than before. Monk tried to act like it was like the other times, seeming to be happy, and smiling, and he was happy to be in there, but he wasn't certain he would be let back in again.


My mother and I were out driving again. I drove for a long time, and we talked to each other a lot. It seemed to be mostly in the Phoenix area. It was getting late, around dusk, and we eventually came to near the Tempe area, from the west. As we got closer to it, the road turned right, to the south, and not far from that, on the left, the east, was a squarish old building, dark brick, several stories high, that had a broad opening in the lower floor, basically the whole side of the lower story. I had seen the building several times before, as I drove around in the dream, even been in it.

I debated with myself whether to go into the building. If I drove into it, it would be a shortcut to getting home. When we came out, on the other side, we would be closer to home, and there would be less driving involved. I had done it before, without any real problem, but it was tricky doing it. It involved going up a square spiraling ramp at high speed, and the car shooting through a wall, the north one, fading through it, the wall acting like a dimensional gateway. I felt uneasy about it now, and it didn't feel like it would be quite so easy as it had been. I was tireder now, and it would be more difficult to react that quickly. I discussed taking the building with my mother, briefly, but she basically said that it was alright if I wanted to do it, leaving it up to me.

In the end I turned into it, and we were going up the ramp. It twisted around in a broad spiral, with straight sides, and became much narrower and finally almost vertical, going up boards that were nailed across a slightly sloping wall. It became too hard to drive the car, because of the steepness. We got out and I carried it, or what had become of it, leading the way. Other people or cars were also going up. The passage became the size of a narrow hallway. A few stories up, as we reached the east wall again, we got to something like a small landing, with a door beside it, to the left. Past the landing, the slope was more gentle. Cars whizzed past us, evidently not needing to stop there. Some seemed to disappear through the door like ghosts, at an extreme angle, without slowing at all, while others continued on, to some other destination, some disappearing through the north wall. I used the shiny card given to me earlier, giving it to someone at the window at the landing I think, to finally get out. I worried about getting the card back, but I did, in a room on the other side, at a small counter that was on the other side of the window at the landing. I needed the contact information on it, and was glad I got it back.

The room was at ground level, in spite of my having entered it from a few stories up. The door acted as a dimensional gateway, allowing the attachment. The room was fairly good-sized, about the size of a small store, and had a lot of people playing video or arcade type games. It's possible some betting took place, too. There was also a long counter by a wall, at the front, where people could get food and drinks. I couldn't see it from where I was, because it was beside me and a wall was in the way, but I knew it was there, from when I spent some time there early in the dream. I was basically at the entranceway to the room. A few people, young men, stood in and by the entranceway, casually, but looking at me, seeming to guard the entrance. Apparently I wasn't too welcome anymore, perhaps because of what happened last time, or maybe it had something to do with the recent trip up the long sloping ramp. When I had been here before, I had used the normal entrance, not come through the gateway. When I had used the gateway before, driving at high speed into the north wall, I had sailed through the darkness, and landed on a road somewhere, closer to home.

We went outside, and it was daylight. The building was just one story. It felt a little odd, going in a multistory building and coming out a one-story one, but the passage through the long sloping ramp, and then the door, had been dimensional travel of some kind, and the multistory building with the ramp was elsewhere, somewhere to the west, not even visible from here I think. We were in the area where Woolco used to be. The building was across the parking lot from it, at or near the northeast corner of the lot, near Rural Rd. We went home then, or maybe somewhere else.

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.