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A car accident had just occurred, and a man was getting his three sons out of the car, relieved that they weren't hurt. I was sort of a
detached observer to all of this...not sure I was even standing on the ground by the side of the road.
Suddenly the man panicked. "Where's the oldest?" he shouted, looking frantically around. It was like the stress of the accident had
made him momentarily forget he had four sons.
I thought, oh no, one of his kids must have been thrown from the car.
I was in some sort of zero-gravity state playing basketball. But everyone else had to run around on the court under normal gravity
conditions. It was more fun for me than it was for them -- all I would do if the basketball was high in the air was to zoom over to it (just
by thinking about it!) and give the ball a punch. It seemed to go in the hoop more often than not (this was definitely a wish fufillment
dream...I've always been a klutz at sports). Then I was holding a glass jar full of dill pickles and using that to hit the ball with...although I
worried the glass would break.
Another wish fufillment dream -- I had lots of money and had built an extra cabin on my parents' property up north. But I was trying to
decide how to insulate it for the winter. I thought perhaps I should use hay bales, like some people in real life are actually doing out
west. However, when I walked back to the existing cabin a man stepped out of the garage and said, "What you should do is plant living
vines in the walls [and he named what kind of vine, but I can't remember what he said], and that will insulate the house."
"Do they have to be kept alive, or do you let them dry out?" I asked.
"Keep them green and alive!" he said sternly.
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My brother, who's a surgeon, was up at my parents' cabin by himself. When we went up to meet him there, he had already harvested
wheat that he'd planted in the side yard, ground it and had baked a loaf a bread from it. We were all amazed. I think he was trying to
impress his son, who's an only child, but he wasn't around.
Then a bunch of stuff happened that finally made me realize I was dreaming...I can't remember what all the things were. But the moment
the realization hit me, I jumped onto a broom and began zooming around on it in the garden area we were now in. I sang, "We're off to
see the wizard!" at the top of my lungs...and my voice sounded pretty good. I don't think I can sing that well in real life (I've never
A couple of weeks ago I babysat my nephews, and after they went to bed I put their tape of "The Wizard of Oz" on, and thoroughly
enjoyed it...especially when Judy Garland et. al. were singing the above song while skipping along the yellow brick road. It's been stuck
in my head for a couple of weeks.
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I was watching a very strange sporting event where women athletes in pastel-colored swimsuits were paragliding down into an
Olympic-sized swimming pool...they were originally all coming down out of the sky in a straight line, but broke out of it to land in
different parts of the pool. But halfway through this, my brain switched the dream around so that the point they became airborne was at
the top of a water-slide they were all coming down on. But I was completely fooled into thinking that this was how they'd been doing it all
The dream changed again. The parasails had little engines attached to them, and that's how the women had originally gained their altitude
before gliding back down. But now that they were all in the water, one of them had let go of the strings to her sail, and its engine kicked
back on, sputtering black smoke in the air. It began to rise back up into the sky. A paunchy, middle-aged man, trying to help, leaped into
the air and somehow managed to grab the strings. But the engine revved up to full-force, and he was lifted very quickly into the sky.
"Let go! Let go!" we all shouted up to him. But soon it was too late for him to let go, because he was hundreds of feet in the air.
The dream changed again. This seemed to be from a primitive time period, because the way the women (and now men, too) would achieve
flight was by tying strings to pterodactyls and having them fly them up into the sky. I was in a "shop" where broken pterodactyls were
being repaired...but I was horrified at how they treated the birds. The wing had fallen off one of them, so they were putting wires and
sticks in it so that it could be reattached to muscles on the bird's body and be useful for achieving flight again. But the wing, lying on the
floor, clearly had already been worked on quite a bit. Skin had been stapled back together over bones, and there were gaping holes
elsewhere in the rotting wing that was clearly on its last leg.
A man grabbed the leg of a table to eat it, for it was the raw leg of some beast that had conveniently been utilized to hold up the table.
"Don't eat that!" someone shouted at him, even though he was already tearing away at the raw meat with his teeth. "We might need it to
repair the pterodactyl."
I woke up.