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I'm buying pastries in a museum bakery that's about to close for the day. I join a dance that involves a group a men
prancing in a circle, while holding a large circular tray that has museum bakery pastries spread all over it. Part of the
dance involves deftly grabbing the pastry off the tray that one is interested in. I manage to grab something that has
powdered sugar on it, and as I leave I eagerly devour it.
I run into C__ in the crowd, someone I used to work with IRL. I go back to the pastry counter and still want more, but
they have put everything away already.
I walk away, thinking about how social I was while I was dancing with the others holding the tray. It occurs to me that
I'm not very social anymore -- I keep my thoughts to myself instead of talking about them with others. Even though I
tend to make friends in various discussion groups on the internet, it is somehow not the same. Internet friendships do
not seem to last -- they can disappear without warning, and I never know why people stopped talking to me or where
they went to. So, even though I can be fairly social on the internet, it still has not addressed my basic problems with
socialization that have plagued me all through my life. I continue on in the dream thinking about all this, and how my two
brothers have always been more gregarious and social than I.
Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted when I stumble upon a museum room where they're showing a film on UN policies.
It shows one incident in an African country where they allowed spears to be thrown before the diplomatic negotiations
were begun. And then native Africans were taken as captives. In later years, the U.N. condemned this approach. A half
white, half black man with a pet lion was taken captive -- his own hair resembles that of a lion's mane, for it is blonde,
very long, and turns into frizzy curls down where it ends near his waist. His sister is also on the cart that is carrying them
away. She is black, but has blonde highlights in her long, black hair.
[I was having trouble figuring out how I was going to illustrate this dream when I came across
this painting by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo - "Apollo and the Continents"
. While it certainly is not an illustration of what was happening in my dream, it definitely has the feel of what the
dream scene looked like. Also, note there is a woman who is perhaps white off to the left, wearing a cap of a color that's
similar to that of blonde hair.]
Painting by Tiepolo
I think the black woman resembles M___, an African woman I work with in real life. Then I run into the real M___ in the
museum and ask her if all those things happened to her -- was she the one in the film?
She says it was her, before she came to America. But she kind of puts the whole historical incident down, because it was
when she had some problem with light facial hair and she doesn't want anyone to see her with this blemish in the film.
I tell her that she's overreacting, that facial hair wasn't even visible in the film! But she's determined to be low key about
the whole incident.
I wake up.
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I was in some kind of large vehicle with my two brothers. I immediately told
them all three of us were dreaming, and that we had somehow all ended up in
the same dream together. B__ drove, and I said to him, "Here, go farther down
this road and you'll see!"
He did and the road turned into a canal, and we were suddenly in a boat. The
setting seemed to be Africa, for there were large structures with tall,
thatched roofs (but they were in A-frame style).
D__, apparently freaked out that we had traveled so far in such a short
moment, said he wanted to go back. So B__ turned the boat around and it changed
back into a car. We also were instantly back in the U.S., driving around the
streets of the town I live in. B__ wanted to drive along the coast, though. He
kept turning down streets while the dream kept creating new city blocks to
keep us away from the ocean. I wanted to tell him this was why he couldn't seem
to get there, but held my tongue because I didn't want to come across as
We finally got to the area of town that the S__ police station is in. We
drew up in front of a white, Colonial-style house. "Oh, look!" I said. "I
remember what this is...it's the S__ Historical Society!" (But this was a false
memory. The real S__ Historical Society is in a building that looks completely
different, and is in a different part of town.) On the outside of the
building were many handpainted signs. The only one I can remember said *Roque* on
it...but as I looked at it the word morphed in front of my eyes to *Roche.*
We turned left to go down a side street. "So if we're all dreaming ths same
thing," I said, "are you guys both seeing the same stuff that I am?" We
decided to put it to the test. I started reciting off what I was seeing out the
window, and then they would each tell me if they saw the same things. And they
did -- whatever I saw, they said they saw it, too (there's a part here,
though, where I cannot now remember what a whole bunch of these things were).
Within the dream, I took this as proof that the three of us were in a
"shared" dream. But now that I'm awake, I don't understand why I didn't see the
obvious flaw in this logic...there wasn't any evidence that my two brothers in the
dream weren't anything more than dream characters that my mind conjured up
for the dream!
Next, we drove through a tunnel that had dull orange placards protruding from
the walls and the ceiling. I announced to my brothers that I saw them, and
they in turn said they saw them, too.
We turned left. Now we were in some magical kind of hallway, that almost
resembled a ride in Disneyland more than anything else. Huge violins and large
sculptures of musical notes were on either side of us. Once more, I stated
what I saw and my brothers repeated it back to me.
I saw an open door to the right. "Let's drive in there!" I said. But my
older brother, D__, had reservations about doing that...he thought it might mess
up the dream.
"No, I've had a lot of success with magical things happening when I go
through doors in dreams!" I said.
B__, who was of course driving, liked my answer, so he drove through the open
door. Once inside, we were all of a sudden out of the car and it was nowhere
in sight. We stood around a bed, on which sat a girl in a blue and white
dress. She had long, blonde hair and looked like the Disney version of the
Wonderland Alice. But I looked closely at her face -- it was actually my sister,
C__, as a little girl!
Two young men came in, wearing white lab coats. "Look, D__, it's the
Metzgoff twins...you went to medical school with them!" I don't know how I knew this.
One of them said, "Yes, D__, remember us -- the Metzgor twins?" So even when
names were merely SPOKEN in this dream, they quickly morphed into something else.
I woke up.
The word "Roque" turned out to be precognitive. I ran into this quote on April 2:
"I hate it when they say, 'He gave his life for his country.' Nobody gives their
life for anything. We steal the lives of these kids. We take it away from them.
They don't die for the honor and glory of their country. We kill them." -
Admiral Gene LaRocque.