Cages

It seems like i’m in Manassas at my old house. Or the network of paths in the woods behind that house specifically. Somebody and i are trying to get to a ?mouse that is missing. I’m trying to make a “yoo hoo” whistle sound but my lips are dry. My partner ?Angie? (i’ll assume it’s Angie) whistles for me and we can hear the mouse whistle in response so we know we’re going the right way. I’m not sure but i think we might be animals of some kind. Dogs maybe? As we leave the woods to cross Sabula’s Field we see several other dogs of types i’ve never seen before. There are parents with their kids choosing a pet and each time a child points out the one he or she wants, i think that the particular dog will require some kind of special care that will make the relationship a lot more difficult than either the parent or child expects. As we near Hoadly Road we come to some large old oak trees by a white farm house (my great-grandparents?) and i can see a pair of peacocks doing a mating dance. The male is beautiful iridescent blue-green and the female is shades of gray but still striking. I want to watch the dance but the mouse is calling. It takes us forever to get through the oaks to the road and before we get to the road i see the peacock pair again. They look awful, ragged and worn, but they’re still dancing. It’s their post romance dance and even though they look pretty bedraggled - all the feathers from their tails are mostly gone leaving just the long quills - they seem content.

On the road it’s a short way to the mouse and we walk in to a little house and i go right to a room with little furniture and no carpeting or curtains. There’s just a table with a cage with a blue floor sitting on top and inside the cage a little black mouse with a white belly. It looks okay but i can see that it’s out of water and doesn’t have any food and we got there just in time. I fill up the little eye dropper with water and hang it back inside the cage and the mouse drinks some water. Then i find some loose sunflower seeds and put them in the cage and the little mouse starts to eat one of the seeds. I find a little muslin bag of bird seed and pour some of that in the cage and the mouse likes that food better.

Sharon comes in to the room. This is supposed to be Sharon’s house in Herndon but the floors are all wood without carpeting and the furnishings are sparse. She’s making excuses why the mouse didn’t have food or water like she wasn’t responsible. Dream morphs and Angie is gone. Sharon is sitting in a recliner type chair and complaining about how uncomfortable the chair is. I look around the room and all the furniture looks fine but i know that it’s all the stuff that belonged to her grandmother. I begin to suggest that she take out a second mortgage on the house and refurnish it but even as i’m thinking it it’s like she can read my thought and begins making excuses and berating me because i don’t know anything about her situation. Then i suggest she just buy a new recliner because even a quality one shouldn’t be expected to last forever. Sharon says that she’s going to reupholster the chair herself and i warn her that she’ll never be able to make the chair as good as new again and should really just buy new furniture. There’s somebody else in the room with us. A man. He isn’t saying anything. Sharon gets up out of the chair and she, the man and i (who are both already standing) leave the room to go. We’re heading to the front of the house to go outside. As i’m walking, leading them out, i’m pointing out how no matter which way your gaze falls, you can through all of the rooms to the blue sky and green trees outside. When we get to the front of the house we turn around and look back to where we came from. The light from outside shines in through all the glass and lights up all the rooms with a soft golden light. I tell Sharon how much i’ve always loved her house and it’s really heartfelt and makes me want to cry because it’s so beautiful.

The house i was dreaming in was the star of my dream. The rest may have held more meaning but the house is what i loved. Sort of a Frank Lloyd Wright modern. All wood and glass and sky. Just another kind of cage i guess. The peacock dance was sweet.

multi-layered game

There’s a large rectangular game board in the middle of the rec room. It’s about the size of a large pool table. I’m trying to figure it out. There are four different types of dice so i get that there are four different games that can be played on the same board. I put three sets of the dice away and hold on to one set of three so i can figure it out one game at a time.

The board has terrain and reminds me of one of those train things

that hobbyist build. Like a miniature town. But this board is simpler than that. It’s divided into four sections for the game i will try. At the middle of each side there is a small range of mountains. Each mountain has a pass with a tunnel cut through. Each tunnel contains a hazard and as i’m moving around the board, (as a game piece on the game board) a large yellow Goofy jumps out of the cave and begins chasing me. I run like hell and manage to lose him in the hills behind me. Now i’m back to being the player outside the game and walk around the table to examine each cave. There’s a Goofy in every one. The yellow one that chased me, a blue one, a red one and a green one. I look at the three dice i’m holding and realize that only two go with this game, the third one is the same type but is small. Two large red casino type dice and one small red one. I’m confused because that means i’ve either messed up one of the other sets of dice for the game, or else there’s a fifth game that uses the one die.

Now i’m in a bedroom with two twin beds and a nightstand or bed table (can’t think what those are called) in between the two. I’m sleeping in the one closest to the door and on the left from my sleeping position. The right hand bed is against the wall and ?Lois is sleeping in it. Or it might be Cameron because it’s a young girl. The wall at the foot-side of our beds is all bookshelves with a television in the center. I’m watching a movie that shows how to play one of the games on the board. Not the Goofy game, but more like a war game. There are a lot of hut-type buildings made of ?sticks or straw. Defenders are standing along a canyon ridge and firing cannons at the destroyers. The destroyers have big trucks that each have the trunk of a giant tree on top and the destroyers drive the trucks with their built on rams right into the huts. Every time they hit a hut the hut explodes into rubbish. I’m watching this and it doesn’t seem like a very fun game but i keep watching to see what the other games will be like. The girl in the other bed is awake too now and i think that maybe she wants to read a book because she’s looking at some books that are on the nightstand. I decide i’ll pick out a book for her to read. I get out of my bed and go up to the wall of books. I’m looking for a type of book that has many short fiction stories in the fantasy genre. I know it’s purple and tall and skinny. I find many books of short stories and think about giving her one of them because they probably contain the same sort of stories i’m thinking are in the purple book. I realize that those are the stories i like to read but maybe the girl wouldn’t like the same kind so i get back in bed and let her find a book on the nightstand.

Now i’m in a dingy looking office – beige tile, beige walls, metal furniture. Looks like a government building. Utilitarian. Functional. There’s a man in a khaki uniform yelling at me and some other person. I realize i’ve joined the army and can’t understand what would make me do such a thing. I’m wondering if i can quit but know that if i’ve signed papers to be in the army i’m screwed. The yelling man is showing us the obstacle course. I think that maybe if i fail they’ll have to let me out. Then the game movie is over and credits are running but i still don’t know how to play the games or what the rules are or what the different sets of dice are for.

Vivid.

Mission Impossible?

Some kind of epic mish mash dream of which i can only remember this little bit:

In one part of the dream, the oldest of the work Betty’s is in charge of watering the ?grain. I can see her standing on the side of a dirt road or driveway. She’s with two horses. One is horse size but the other looks not a lot bigger than a colt. For some reason i need to learn how to do her job and now we’re in the barn and she’s showing me some odd harness type dealie that goes on the little horse. Betty is adamant it be done exactly as she shows me and i’m wondering if i should take notes but as i watch i realize that it only makes sense to do what she’s doing. What’s difficult for her will be simply common sense for me. Then we’re in a long narrow building. It has a flimsy feel. Everytime we move the entire building shake. Also, every noise we make has an echo like the place is large and hollow (even though i can see it’s fully furnished). There are a bunch of people standing along the hall. We’re crowded in. ScottW, Hunter, ScottH, Louise, Betty are the people that i remember but there were a couple more. ScottW was handsome as ever and i wanted to stand near him so i could look at him. We’ve got three new laptops. ScottW, Hunter, and i are using these new machines and they’re amazing. It has to do with the team (v-ball) and Hunter is extremely pleased with the configuration. ScottH takes credit for ordering the computers. Now we're sitting outside of a building on the sidewalk. Is it my junior high school? My friend Betty is sitting on the top step of a 3-step stoop. I'm happy to see her because it's been a while. She's wearing some hammered copper jewelry that i admire. Then it’s time for us to go and we all pile into the bus except for Betty. The grain hasn’t been tended and there’s no question that she will have to take care of it because i have to go with the team. I can tell she’s really disappointed but that’s just the way it has to be. As i get on the bus i tell Louise that i feel bad because i know how much Betty was looking forward to this adventure. As the bus moves out i can see Betty fixing up the harness for the little horse.

What an odd dream. I haven’t thought about ScottW in forever. One of ScottH’s really handsome gay friends. Gorgeous in a Johnny Depp way. Long narrow building. Bus. Horses. Old age (Betty's). What was Louise doing in my dream? She’s going with ScottH to see Lady Gaga so maybe Lady Gaga is implied? Some kind of sex dream? Probably. Yay my subconscious. Less metaphors, more penis. But please not Lady Gaga’s penis.

Ha! Got another part of the meaning. One trick pony beating a dead horse. That's hilarious, mind! Much funnier than the actual one trick pony beating the dead horse that it refers to.

Avant-garde sex dream

The room is a small auditorium or theatre but there aren’t any chairs. Is this Las Vegas? It’s decorated in art deco style and the colors are intense jewel tones of blue, red, green, and gold. There is an orchestra set up at the opposite side of the room. There are small groups of people seated on various sections of the floor. I sit down next to a small group of people. The couple next to me has a picnic basket and is having a picnic, red and white checked tablecloth spread on the carpet beneath them. It reminds me of sitting on the lawn at Wolftrap but inside. The music is nice – strings mainly. Yoko Ono is performing with the orchestra and i’m excited to hear what she’s going to do. Something’s happened. I either missed Yoko’s performance or she cancelled? As i’m leaving the venue I stop at a kiosk where some of Yoko’s art is for sale. There’s hardly anything there – like four items - but I look at the two pieces of jewelry hanging on the wall and a couple of rough sketches of ?circles. I tell the sales girl in the kiosk i’m surprised she doesn’t have a lot more art for sale because Yoko has many drawings and conceptual art that would probably sell quickly. It occurs to me i’ve missed the performance and the kiosk, once full of artwork, is just sold out of everything. I leave without buying anything and when I exit through the door i’m standing on a stone ledge overlooking a deep wide teal-gray colored river. It’s a rustic ?gold rush town. I enter a room and it’s a ?yoga demonstration class. There are seven people – three women and three men are demonstrating different yoga positions while the fourth man points out the benefits of the different poses. I realize he is rubbing the woman’s crotch and I look around to see if anybody else notices what he’s doing. That’s when I realize that people all around me are making out and feeling each other. I feel out of place and turn to leave. One of the yoga men approaches me but I tell him “Even if a naked 30-year-old Sean Connery walked into the room, I wouldn’t be interested right now” and leave. Now i’m in an empty stable sitting on a table. Sharon is there. She says she needs $10k and wonders if I could help out. I wonder why she needs the money and she starts talking about us going to ?Belgium.

That’s all i remember.

Art Deco. Yoko Ono. Jewel tones. Sex. 10K. A nekkid 30 y/o Sean Connery? Hell yeah i’d be interested. What the hell? Maybe i was referring to the orgy atmosphere. Yoga and orgy are kinda similar words. I never noticed that before.

transitions

I’m at work in a factory-like place. My desk is dad’s workbench. I had told ?Angie i’d drive her to an appointment and i’m preparing to leave. The radio is on and the news says that Blade had a stroke and is dead. I can’t believe it. Devastated. I know i have to get to his station and make sure the four-twenty is a good song. Just as i enter the station i hear some technosynthpop crap that the afternoon deejay lady is playing and i’m pissed because Blade would hate it. I get to where the music gets played and put on Janis Joplin’s ‘Get It While You Can’. I leave the building and i’m crying and driving aimlessly up and down roads i don’t recognize. I turn on the radio and there aren’t any stations anymore. Then i’m on a street, my car is gone and i’m walking and crying. I’m completely lost and sit down on a curb in a subdivision with sidewalks.

That’s all I remember. The subdivision with curb and sidewalks seemed familiar and might have been my first neighborhood in San Bernardino but I’m not sure. Or maybe Merritt Island. That feels more right. Terrible shocking dream. I still feel sick in my stomach. Death = change. Get it while you can is pretty self-explanatory.

feathers

I’m in the back yard of the house i grew up in. There’s some kind of festival? I keep finding bird feathers to collect. I have a good many feathers in my hand plus the quilt i’m carrying. The feathers are all different colors. I'm especially happy i found a red one because i never find red ones. I also have several little yellow ones and i wonder if they're from wild canaries. I decide i need a big bag to put the quilt and the feathers in. Now i'm in the mall i go to sometimes in dreams and walking up the stone floor. There's a fountain with some stone benches around it. I drop some of my feathers and i’m scrambling to pick them up before people walk on them. There's a girl sitting on the bench next to where i’m kneeling and comments about the pretty feathers. I tell her how a person from my work told me it was illegal to have wild bird feathers but that i didn’t see why there was anything wrong with it. She said she thought it was so Indians wouldn’t kill eagles for their ceremonies. I thought that since so many eagles are in zoos that Indians should automatically get any eagle feather that is dropped in zoo pens and she thought that was a good idea.

I’ve been finding lot of feathers from migrating birds lately. Plus Mike and i stopped at the pet store on Kildaire Farm Road after dinner yesterday and there was a sweet young green bird that was so lonely. It was squawking and carrying on so that i had to spend my time with it even though i wanted to visit with the rats. Poor little bird. There was another beautiful mostly blue bird. The sign said it was a love bird. I’ve never seen a blue love bird before! Pretty I wish i could’ve bought the blue love bird and the sad crying bird.

The other night i dreamed about Janet. I can’t remember how we were together but we were in ?her apartment kitchen (i think it was Lynn’s apartment really from when i knew him) and she was telling me how being married to Lynn didn’t turn out how she thought it would be. I exclaimed “you had a CHILD with him!” and was annoyed because i remembered she complained about her first husband when i first met her and wondered if Lynn was as unhappy as she was.

Lynn. He was my pal. I wanted him to love me but he wanted a mother woman. Janet was just like his mom and i couldn’t hold a candle to that. That dream stays with me. Me and Lynn standing on the shore of an ocean. Hundreds of dead blue birds are lying around me and the ocean is smooth and blue and calm as glass. He chose the calm blue safety over joy. I hope he’s not miserable with that choice. Is there such thing as a man that doesn’t want his mommy as his lover?

I’m at work (but it’s not my real office) and some of the nurses (Lana, Sheila, and one other – Joy? Kathy?) are doing something with envelopes. I ask if i can help them and Lana gives me a list, some greeting cards, and some objects like origami party favors. She wants me to address the cards to the names on the list and sign the cards. The people on the list are Medicaid ?dialysis patients and the nurses want to send them cards to let them know that they’re more than just dialysis claims to us. I think it’s a very nice thing to do because the nurses are usually so selfish and don’t think of anybody but themselves but i’m also embarrassed because my handwriting is so horrible and i know that Lana and Sheila have beautiful handwriting. I ask Lana if it would be okay with her if i just prepare the envelopes by putting the party favors inside and she and Sheila sign the cards. She accepts my compromise and i go over to the large wooden shelves to begin preparing the envelopes.

Those were the same wooden shelves as my dream from a few nights ago. I think there were feathers in this dream too. Origami out of feathers?

dying trees

I’m in the lobby of a lodge-type place. Or maybe it’s a lounge in the bar of the lodge. There’s a bunch of people sitting at round tables. Each table would comfortably seat four people but most tables only have two or three people. I’m alone at my table and don’t know anybody. The other people around me are older (which in dream terms would probably mean they’re my age because in dreams i’m always my inside age, not my chronological age). There’s an L-shaped ‘panel’ of seats set up behind long tables and there are even older men sitting in the chairs. There’s three seated at one table and four seated at the other table. I think there’s going to be some live music and i’m curious about the type of music that they’ll make. The man sitting in the corner of the table with four asks the audience “who likes The Beatles?” and several people in the ‘audience’ raise a hand. I get excited and jump out of my chair and go up to the table and begin to tell the men about how just the other night i was jamming with some people and we were doing nothing but Beatle’s songs. Behind me, at the three people table, a new man joins the panel. He seems very down and sad. As he’s welcomed by the group, the main talking man in the corner says something about how sorry he is that the man’s father has just recently died. I realize i know this new man - it’s Hilton Lamm. I think how awful it is for him to lose his dad when he just lost his wife not so long ago. I turn towards him and give him a hug. I can tell he doesn’t recognize me and i say to him “It’s me! Lois’ sister” but he still doesn’t seem to comprehend. I say “Lois Miller! You were a second family to her…” and he hugs me back but i don’t think he really remember me or even Lois and i feel bad for him feeling so bad.

Now i’m outside on the grounds of the lodge, riding in a small vehicle like a golf cart or a “gator” with a loud redneck woman driving. She’s giving me a tour of the property. It’s historic. The trees on the property are ancient oaks but there’s something wrong with them. They have odd bulges distorting them like giant tumors. Some of the tree tumors are the size of Volkswagen beetles. Occasionally the woman will point out little oddities hidden among the trees. She points out a tree that has had the top has been sheared off to leave a flat table top. At the top are two King Kong apes carved out of wood. They’re fighting each other. I ask the woman what animates them but she doesn’t understand my question. I ask her specifically if they run on batteries or electricity or something like that and she, understanding me now, says “electricity”. I see many moving ‘things’ up in the trees and wonder how large of an electric bill the lodge must have to keep all those things moving. We continue on the tour. The path we’re on is kind of muddy and roots from the trees make the path bumpy. The great old trees make me think of my great-grandparents farm and i tell the lady that her trees are going to die of old age soon. She vehemently denies this. I tell her again that all trees eventually die of old age even if they live for hundreds of years. She doesn’t believe that. I explain that the trees on the property are probably 200 years old and don’t have much time left (not even mentioning the blight that’s obviously affecting them). She is very upset and refuses to believe what i’m saying can be true. She’s upset but so am i because i’m remembering how great the old farm was when i was a kid but how sad it was when all the trees died and the new owner bull-dozed everything down and used the cleared land to grow corn. Just as i’m about to start crying, the tour ends back at the lodge.

I’m walking through the lodge looking for my room. I have no idea which room i’m in. I walk through an empty ?dining room and enter through a door-way with wooden stairs going up. There’s a line of people but i walk right past them. The stairway is narrow and kind of dank and dark. I round the last corner and see it’s a public bathroom with a row of seats that are also toilets all around the room. There are some “privacy” curtains between some of the seats but mostly it’s just wide open and there are all different ages of men and women seated and doing their business. I don’t want to sit down with all those people and walk back out and pass all the people in line again. I’m back in the dining room and choose another door-way. It’s got the same kind of stairs as the last place. I’m thinking it’ll get me to the second floor. As i turn the last corner in this hall a naked man passes me going the other way. He’s makes some crack about me being a woman and i realize he’s just left the shower and i don’t need to go any further. I turn around and go back to the empty dining room. I’m beginning to feel a sense of panic because i can’t figure out how to get to the upper floors where the guest rooms are. I look up and can see there are four floors and doors to the rooms open up onto the open dining room which i now notice is a “great” room. Typical lodge with a large stone fireplace at one end. I still have no idea what my room number is but notice i have a key like you used to get at old motor lodges. It’s a brass key attached to a semi-diamond shaped piece of turquoise colored plastic with a number on it. I’m on the fourth floor but I don’t know how to get to it. Just then Scott appears and asks me where i’ve been and indicates i should follow him. I follow him through another doorway as i tell him about the tour and the trees and how the tour woman wouldn’t believe me that trees die of old age.

We’ve entered a kind of room of staircases. Each staircase apparently takes you to one of the three upper floors, depending on which staircase you choose. Scott looks at my key and chooses the staircase to get to the fourth floor. Once we get on the fourth floor we go towards rooms that are away from the ones that overlook the dining room. My room is at the end of a cul-de-sac on a room facing the outside of the property where the King Kong carvings are fighting and i tell Scott to look at them because they’re cool.

That’s all i remember.

'Possums rising

The night before last, i’m riding in the back seat of a large dark blue station wagon or SUV. While i was dreaming i knew who the driver and front seat passenger were but now i don’t remember. We’re driving on a narrow two-lane road. Trees and shrubs and other vegetation grow right up to the shoulder, giving the impression that we’re driving inside a leafy tunnel. We slow down because there’s a cyclist in our lane. The rider is having difficulty of some kind and the driver of the vehicle i’m in comes to a full stop on the road to allow the cyclist to gain some distance. The other lane is clear so i’m not sure why we don’t just pass him but we don’t. While we’re stopped i take the blue plastic tarp i’m holding and get out of the car. I fold the blue plastic into a square and lay it on the shoulder of the road. The shoulder is covered with fallen leaves and i arrange them over the plastic so it won’t show. I feel guilty leaving it because it’s polluting. At that same moment i’m thinking that thought, i decide i don’t want to continue to our destination and tell the front seat people i’m not going with them. They drive off. I’m very tired so i unfold the plastic, refold it oblong and lay it on top of the leaves to make a pallet. It looks inviting and comfortable and just as i’m about to lay down on it i wonder if there are insects in the leaves that will bite me as i sleep. I don’t see anything walking around in the leaves and decide it’ll be worth the risk. I lay down on the pallet and it’s very comfortable. While i’m lying there on the blue plastic on the side of the road i notice that what i took for trees and shrubs are actually very large wooden book cases lined up along the edge of the shoulder of the road. The lower few shelves are filled with dried leaves. I’m wondering who built the shelves when the pavement near my head begins to rumble. I roll over on my stomach to see what’s happening and see a place where the asphalt has been patched several times. This patched area is heaving up so that the patches are “unlayering”. Underneath i can see only a hollow darkness but i can hear something inside that is moving towards me at the opening of the hole. The dream morphs…

And now i’m lying on a floor in a very narrow kitchen. Galley kitchen. The floor is made of wooden planks. The stove and oven is at my back, cupboards are in front of me. There is a glass door on the wall closest to my head that leads out into a lawn. Immediately to the left of the door is another solid wood door that goes to the basement. Next to the door, to the right, is a short wall with a window. In front of the window is a small square wooden table for two. There’s a man sitting in the chair on the side of the table furthest from the door. He’s reading a newspaper and doesn’t notice me (or is ignoring me). In front of the door, there are many layers of wooden planks over a hole. I can see something white coming up from the dark depth of the hole towards me. I’m afraid but don’t move away. A little baby ‘possum pokes its head out and comes into the kitchen. It is SO cute i can hardly stand it! I pet the little head and scratch the little back. It loves the attention. Another one pops out from another opening. I want to pet this one too but it’s growling and showing its sharp little white teeth. I move very slowly (opossum slow) and pet the head anyway. I don’t think it’s sick but i’m worried that if it bites me i might have to get rabies shots. Just as i’m thinking that and looking for any kind of symptom of rabies, it bites the fleshy part of my hand under my thumb. I hold very still and realize that to avoid getting rabies shots i’d have to capture the little creature and turn it in to be killed and tested. I can tell how the bite feels that the skin isn’t broken, the ‘possum is just sort of holding my hand in its teeth like a dog does when it plays. I decide not to tell anybody and let the ‘possum go. I can see that there a several more ‘possums in the cellar and don’t want any more to come inside the kitchen. I begin to move the planks around to close the gap. The man at the table speaks and tells me that there are other exits to the outside because he can see some of the baby ‘possums outside in the yard. I look out the glass door and can see them too. It’s very green outside. Green lawn, big summer time hard wood trees. The little ‘possums look very white against the lawn and i hope they don’t wander too far from their nest and wake up with that thought.

Last night i had disturbing dreams. I only remember the end of one. Three other people and i are in a motel room (we came in from outside but i don’t remember what we were doing or where we were – someplace with shops). There are two queen size beds and the usual furniture in a motel room. I’m trying to pack up my stuff because it’s time to go. I’m not sure if i have all of my things and when i turn to check under the beds i knock over a cowboy boot that was standing next to the bed. The man to whom the boot belongs mutters “bitch” under his breath. He’s scroungy and rough looking. A biker maybe? I set the boot upright again and apologize to the jerk. I REALLY do not like him. The other two people in the room are all packed and ready to go. Everybody is waiting for me. I put a stuffed toy animal in my backpack with some clothes and then i’m ready too. We leave the room and we’re in a station of some sort and in line for the ticket counter. I think we’re going to take a train and i’m uncertain about going. The other two people are people i know and trust but i don’t understand why this hateful man is with us. I’m trying to tell my friends that we can’t trust this other person and why we can’t but we get to the counter and the ticket man in the blue suit hands us a long string of tickets (the kind you get for rides at a fair or carnival). The first person in our group takes the string of tickets and we follow through the turnstile. On the other side of the turnstile is a table with four tall narrow glasses of dark liquid. Now we’re standing at the table but we’re in a room, like a foyer of a house. We each pick up a glass and drink because that’s the only way we can enter the next phase of our journey. We all drink about half of the liquid from our glasses. It doesn’t taste good but it doesn’t taste bad either. To me it just has a sort of dry nutty chocolaty taste. I drink a little more but it still tastes the same. The others drink theirs all the way and say “it tastes like Pepsi!” I take one more sip and get just a hint of the taste of Pepsi. There’s still probably an inch of drink at the bottom of my glass but i don’t want it. The others have finished theirs so we go through the door and there’s a ticket taker. My companions are talking and laughing about the Pepsi drink. The ticket taker man looks at me and i know he knows i didn’t drink the entire glass of ‘beverage’ and wonder if he’ll let me pass. My companions are walking ahead, creating space between us. I want the ticket man to let me through and begin laughing too. He lets me go and i begin to fly after my companions. I realize i’m tripping my brains out! We’re walking along a hall of fun house mirrors i think. I wonder why my friends aren’t high and i realize that the ‘Pepsi’ at the end of the drink was a part of the elixir that would allow ‘Them’ to keep us under their control. My friends don’t even know they’re tripping and i’m just flying along behind them looking at the mirrors on either side of me, seeing how distorted everything looks and i realize that i’m looking out of windows, not into mirrors and begin laughing even harder because i’m the only one who knows we’re tripping and i love being in that state. That’s all i remember.

Yay! I’ll take a trip any way i can! Flying in dreams (when you’re not being chased by a scary monster) is THE best feeling in the world. Definitely a high that can’t be duplicated. Who was that asshole in my dream? I really despised him and wanted him to leave our group.
From these dreams i think maybe i'm not ready to "arrive" = grow up? Don't want to complete the journey or don't want to continue in a state of blind numbness? Bookshelves empty but for old memories (dried up leaves)? Wonders (baby 'possums) from my subconcious (cellar) are trying to emerge through all my "adult" conditioning (asphalt/boards)? Refusal to finish the glass of medicine (give up my free will) in order to ride the rides that my friends are (conform). Disinterested man reading the paper - sort of a 'ticket taker' of a different fashion? The overseer? Some god-like conciousness that provides me with a clearer perspective and shows me that everything is okay really? My inner dreamer?

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.
It's getting harder to be someone but it all works out.
It doesn't matter much to me.

Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.

Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.

Strawberry Fields forever.