Dream Journal

Dream Journal

At one point in the dream, prior to the climactic episode, I saw a news head-line cross the bar at the bottom of a television screen. This was in a metropolitan area. Having escaped, somehow, the underground facility that I had been trapped in for months (lower chakra vibrations), I was now in the midst of a bustling metropolis that I recognize from earlier dreams: The District. This area looked akin to the Apple headquarters and downtown UCSD, as prior dreams had portrayed it (as with Oleg).

The head-line, in the midst of some vacuous skyscraper interior (I think), open to the air by many balconies like an airport (in aesthetic) that offered no escape by virtue of their height but were at least not claustrophobia-inspiring, however bureaucratic and impersonal, read: “Materialists report that there are still immaterialists/immanents in the world.”

My wandering about, pondering this message in frustration, at once with its self for the public insolence it portrayed and with myself for being unable to abandon it as a concern, segued into my return from the emporium to my neighbourhood.

I dreamt that there were three creatures that I had to save. Actually, if I am to be honest, there were two. Returning from a sort of emporium, I discovered, at night-time on my street (which again was a host to a bustling home where the Qafiti residence would be in Actual Life), that there were several animals running about the street. Two I took into my care: A cat and a rat. I thought that they would be great additions to my family. A coyote, if not several, were pacing the streets, and I worried that they might consume the cat and rat. I tried to hold them in my arms, as though I were grappling with Pumpkin. I was terrified. It is all so possible that Pumpkin was out and about as well at this time, though I doubt this in context of what followed. My father drove by, and I was thrilled at the opportunity to stow my newfound friends in the family van. I did so, and to my chagrin I found him fairly inattentive. Thankfully, in retrospect, his neurosis was not of a hostile, angry character. Yet my rage made up for this fact. I had to keep reminding him to be careful and not to let them escape.

He drove us home, where Pumpkin met my new friends. Soon, I miss-placed the rat. I was furious, panicking, and I troubled my father about this. This might have been the following day, when we were on our way again to the emporium. There was a big event taking place. My father kept assuring me that the rat was safe, though he provided no evidence for this fact. My rage and angst were reaching a breaking-point when I discovered, in the back of the car, what looked like a stuffed animal. The creature, which appears now to have been a hedgehog, had a zipper like Awilda’s pencil case in Actual Life. I opened it to find my rat inside, alive and safe. My father’s assurances, however feeble, seemed justified, but only, I might think, incidentally. He did not know, surely, about the pencil-case, but it seems impossible to ascertain.

Dm.A.A.