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It feels late at night although it’s difficult to tell all I know is that the sky is full of black ominous clouds.
I appear to be on the very outskirts of a city miles off in the distance across the plains, I’m situated on
what looks like a piece of grassy waste ground or parkland. I am accompanied by some men I used to
work with in a factory about 8 years ago one man in particular stands out a Scottish supervisor, these
men are going to be helping me with an important task.
I’m digging some holes on this piece of terrain the holes are kind of like trial attempts or small versions
of a much larger hole I’m planning to dig. The digging is quite easy and the earth soft and yielding, I
cut through the turf and start to dig down into the brown soil.
Much later on and still at the same site I have managed to excavate a much larger hole, its the one I
had intended to create and had been practicing for. I’m so far down in the hole now that I’ve hit
bedrock and a seam of honey colored stone, the strata is much harder to cut through than the soft soil
so now I am using a jackhammer to break up the stone.
I take a time out to examine my handiwork and see a perfect round hole which is exactly 200 meters
deep with a diameter of 10 meters. The Scottish manager tells me that I’m must use caution now and
absolutely have to stop going any deeper otherwise I will hit the neighboring cities bedrock which could
be totally catastrophic. (The manager didn’t explain what the danger was but I assume that I was close
to penetrating the local water table or even something worse like a tectonic plate).
He tells me to just tidy up the hole I’ve created by gently using the jackhammer to make the cylindrical
recess as smooth as possible (it looks like I need to chip away a layer of what looks like lime scale on a
small part of the inside wall). This polishing off will make it look like a professional job making it
complete and finished. I get the impression that once it’s finished it’s a job that I need to forget about
as it has served its purpose.
The Scottish boss casually takes a moment to chat and asks me about games (computer ones in
particular) and if I’m still playing them, I tell him I don’t play much anymore. I get the impression that
he was trying to get across the idea that I should try and have a bit more fun in my life.
After the grueling job is complete I decide to go on a good holiday to rest and recover from digging the
big hole. I visit some distant tropical islands and have a very relaxing time. I take a moment out to
write a long letter to all of the men and my old Scottish boss asking them if they are all okay and
thanking them for all of the help they gave me to dig the huge hole, I really felt that there was a nice
camaraderie between us all.
I put the letter I’ve written into an envelope which is very padded and filled out, I like the way the neat
handwriting is slightly pressed into the paper and how the stamp looks colorful and nice. I also really
like the feel of the envelope and its paper it’s chunky, tactile and puffy just the sort of letter I’d like to
receive myself in the post.
Funny how both of last nights dreams seemed to revolve around holes, the first dream wasn’t so nice
and me think of the expression “To get into hot water” and also in another sense “To dig oneself into a
hole” although the digging of the hole seemed to be positive in a strange sort of way but it was stressed
by my old boss that I absolutely must stop.
I’m not quite sure what that might mean but I’ve got a hunch that it could symbolize the need to ease
up or even back off on the self exploration represented by the digging and trying to uncover things
about by myself when there is perhaps no need or maybe even a danger if I pursue it too far (although
I don’t really believe that, I think self exploration is a good thing so it probably has another meaning
that is less clear at the moment).
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This dream had the quality of being a movie or film about it, in the beginning of the story I am playing
a character portrayed by the movie actor Jim Carey. Sometimes in the role of the main character and
at other times I am observing and witnessing the drama as a third person or even all at once, it’s very
difficult to describe and put into words.
I am actively involved in this dream even when I am merely observing too. I can tell that the dream
seems to be about me even though there are lots of characters. It’s a bit of a long one so good luck to
anyone who decides to tackle it! It definitely has something to say but I need a bit more time to
decipher and ponder what it could all mean.
I find myself in a large ominous prison, it seems that I have been an inmate here for some
considerably time. I am in a large indoor open area close to the cells which is possibly used for
recreation with seating for chatting. Just ahead of me I can see that the area is restricted by a wide iron
barred for wall, this appears to be the entrance into the prison.
I stand about doing nothing in particular, I am holding a sandwich or savoury roll in my left hand and a
Snickers bar in my right. Just in front of me coming in through the security gate or entrance I see the
prison governor walking towards me with a small boy. The governor is the actor Richard Chamberlain*.
Normally I like Richard Chamberlain but here he is playing the role of a nasty religious character I
recall seeing in one of the made for television movies my wife watched in the past. He is dressed in a
black suit which almost looks like the kind of thing a priest or clergyman might wear, he has a bitter
spiteful expression on his face.
The governor and little boy are still some distance away perhaps a hundred meters or so but I realise
that the little boy is my son (in reality I don’t have any children). I feel over the moon and delighted
that my son has come to see me and I hurry over to meet him. As I reach the governor the little boy
vanishes into thin air like a mirage.
I feel such disappointment and despair that my son has just disappeared it was almost as if he weren’t
real or a dream. The governor approaches me and instantly lays into me with an abusive verbal
outburst. He says viscously “Do you think its right to neglect and disappoint your son the way that you
And with that he aggressively knocks my sandwich flying out of my hand and to the floor with a blow
from the back of his hand. I start to become panicky and afraid as I sense that he could be quite
vindictive or malicious if he wanted to be. He then goes on to reprimand and tell me off about the way I
have neglected my son.
He then reaches out and in a very gentle but oh so authoritarian kind of way plucks the Snickers bar
from out of my hand. This act of relieving me of the chocolate bar is too much and I start to become
extremely stressed and frightened, I can’t take any more of his verbal attacks or his threatening
behaviour so I run off into the prison.
I run and run deeper and deeper into the prison, at first the prison looks quite clean and normal but as
I try to get away and hide further in the prison things start to take a turn for the worse. The farther into
the prison I get the darker and more terrifying it becomes, walls are covered in graffiti, litter is strewn
about and cells and furnishings vandalised.
The whole environment takes on a feeling of what I can only describe as a hell, I can see flames licking
up from inside some of the cells, howls and screams of some prisoners who are in a tortured state and
horrid laughter of others who sound as if they are meting out punishments, I keep running through the
dank miserable maze regardless.
I come to a point, which looks like a lift, or elevator I hurry inside as I’ve just seen a woman I urgently
want to speak too. The inside of the lift has a totally different appearance to the rest of the prison and
has a very corporate business like feel to it with lots of contemporary brushed aluminium and modern
patterns and designs.
The lift is peculiar in that it seems to be a minuscule never ending square corridor arranged around a
central square column (possibly the lift itself, this part of the dream seemed to defy geometric logic
although it was very lucid). I rush around the paradoxically small square loop hoping to catch up with
the elusive lady.
I realise that the woman I am chasing after is my (dream) wife. I call out to her pleading for her to wait
for me so that I can speak with her. I sense that she might be able to help me somehow (perhaps to
get out of the prison?). She doesn’t slow down though and frustratingly I can never seem to catch her. I
give up and fall despondently to the floor.
Suddenly the walls of the lift begin to close in on me and very quickly too, I start to become petrified
realising that I’m going to squashed. I push my hands and feet out in the hope of stopping the walls
crushing me. It seems to work but I am demoralised to see that the cramped cube like space is now
more like a flexible cube shaped sack or bag.
I push and shove and try to claw myself out of the terrifying, suffocating situation, as I struggle the bag
seems to disappear and I find myself rolling around and fighting with myself on the floor. Something
tells me that the horribly confined claustrophobic elevator room was a prison of my own making
(probably like the larger prison?).
I look up from the floor and find myself in an area which looks like a foul, filthy communal shower area.
Feeling nerve wracked and exhausted I breakdown and collapse in a heap and start sobbing. Suddenly
and as if from nowhere I see a shadowy figure dart out from my right, this shadow runs over to me and
swiftly kicks me three times in the stomach before running off.
I begin to lose (dream) consciousness as I lay rolled up in an agonising ball on the filthy floor of the
hovel or squat like prison amongst the dark and grimy pistachio green coloured walls, eventually I pass
out. I come to and realise that I am now witnessing a flash back scene into a much earlier part of my
It is daytime and I find myself out in a large recreation park I immediately note that I am a small boy
again, I am here with my father who happens to be Clint Eastwood. Clint really doesn’t appear to be his
film self here and actually looks quite unattractive and scruffy, almost unkempt or nerdish with his
greasy hair combed tightly over his head.
Clint’s mossy green clothes also look very moth eaten and shabby and they don’t even seem to fit him
properly either. There is a large fairground ride in the middle of the park that my (dream) father takes
me on, it looks like one of these huge horizontal spinning circles that tilts as it picks up speed, it has
little carriages arranged around its perimeter.
I think that in reality this ride is often called a Mexican hat or UFO, this one is covered in dingy peeling
dull red matt paint, it looks slightly unsafe and not very inviting. It looks like Clint and I are both going
to go and have a ride on the rickety looking eyesore.
My father Clint takes a small car by himself and I also take a separate carriage by myself (even
thought there is the space for a couple of people in each carriage). If Clint is sat at 12 O’clock on the
huge wheel then I would be located at 3 O’clock. I look to my left and see a large group of maybe 7 or
8 little girls all crammed into another car at 6 O’clock.
The fairground ride starts up and begins spinning around in an anticlockwise direction accumulating
speed rapidly. I soon realise that this old ride hasn’t been kept in good condition at all and is extremely
unsteady and wobbly. I become very frightened and want to get off immediately (this feeling was the
kind of reaction I might really have had as a child).
I am very distressed and frozen with fear, I look over to my Dad pleadingly as if he were the only one
who could stop the horrible ride. He just sits back with his arms stretched out reclining in the large
bucket like seat. He has a self satisfied expression on his face and I sense and know that he thinks that
this ride will make a man of me somehow.
Suddenly the shabby old ride lurches and tips forward, the carriage with the little girls in digs into the
ground violently bringing the whole ride to a grinding halt. I am really worried for the girls safety and
rush over to see if there is anything I can do to help them. I see that some of the girls have been
thrown out of the car and onto the grass of the park.
Thankfully and miraculously the girls all seem to be safe and some are even giggling and have smiles
on their faces. I want to stay with them to make sure they are ok but my Dad gruffly shouts and tells
me its time to go. Knowing that he is the adult and I am just a child I am helpless to do anything so I
am forced to go, we both head back home.
Back at home which is a small dilapidated and pokey old rundown caravan I realise that I am now a
small girl just like the ones from the fairground ride earlier. Clint Eastwood is my father still though. We
both sit at a table where the father figure takes out some bread and jam and proceeds to make some
sandwiches for lunch for us both.
The bread that my father uses is extremely tiny almost like the kind used for canapés or fancy little
starter snacks. He takes a knife and begins to spread the jam or marmalade as thin as he possibly can.
He even says something in a slightly spiteful and malicious tone to the effect as he does this “Hmm,
now lets see how far we can make this jam stretch”.
I split into two in the dream and have two perspectives, the little girl ‘me’ and the real life ‘me’. The
small girl ‘me’ thinks that the little sandwiches are wonderful, just perfect for a small girl and for
sharing with her dolls. The real waking life male ‘me’ on the other hand sees deeper into it and knows
that the father figure is being miserly and tight-fisted.
As the male real ‘me’ I feel revolted, angry and disgusted by the fathers mean attitude to his child it
strikes me as being the height of wickedness and evil as he knows what he is doing and he almost
seems to be doing it with deceitful intent. The scene begins to become foggy and fades, the flashback
comes to an end and I return back to the prison floor.
I am lying on the floor on my side deathly still in an almost brainless paralytic stupor, I stare straight
ahead of me with wide dilated eyes. From my side on view I am gazing straight ahead at two men
stood in the prison about 20 or 30 feet away. I can see that they are road workers and are dressed in
typical gear, fluorescent jackets, hard hats etc.
Still completely dazed and out of it I see one of the workers make his way over to me. He is a huge
hulk of a man really burly and massive, he has a large build, heavily set with a big stomach and
massive arms a real man ‘Man’. He has a big chestnut red brown beard and wavy brown hair. The man
instantly reminds me of a huge Viking warrior.
He strides over to me carrying a huge jackhammer or pneumatic road drill, this immense tool is nothing
more than a mere toothpick compared to the size of this man. He upends the drill and places it down
right next to my head....and then lets rip! I am completely jolted out of my slumbering stupor and sit
bolt up right with head jangling.
I look above me to the huge Viking and everything slips into slow motion in a very movie like kind of
way. The Viking withdraws the jackhammer slowly from the ground, a wave of majestic Wagnerian
fanfare like music accompanies this act, he withdraws the jackhammer with one hand way up above his
head in a triumphant gesture.
Even in the dream it is clear to me that this act is analogous to King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the
stone. The scene holds a lot of power and I like it, and its strange similarity with the mythological story
even gives me a tiny smile. With ears still ringing from the jackhammer noise I look over to my right
and can see the exit to the prison.
The exit is through the shop front of a very ordinary looking Laundromat the kind that is filled with lots
of washing machines. Sharp sunlight pours into the laundry through the shop windows, its so bright it
makes my vision hazy or blurry but I can just make out one or two people washing their clothes
oblivious to me as if the prison was completely disconnected from the shop.
Suddenly I hear a very soothing, intelligent and articulate female voice come over a public
announcement system. The voice’s cool calm air reminds me very much of how in some sci-fi films the
spaceships controlling computer often has a female voice like in the film ‘Alien’ the calming voice also
has slight parallels with those heard at airports too.
The female voice repeats the same message over and over again ad infinitum “Brain functioning
correctly....Brain functioning correctly....Brain functioning correctly....Brain functioning correctly....”. I
feel pretty certain that the message is directed at me or is meant for me, I already feel slightly better
in myself too after the awful prison experience.
*I particularly like Richard Chamberlain in a made for television film from the 1970’s of the story ‘The
Count of Monte Christo’, its one of my favourite films. There seems to be some irony in the fact that in
this film he was a prisoner whereas in my dream he was the prison governor. Many thanks to all who
read my really long dream!