December 1992

December 1, 1992

I was on a hill somewhere, among some short, shrubbery landscape. The hill had a slightly winding gravel path, about three feet wide, curving down and to the left. There was a guy standing at the top part of the path, perhaps just a few feet from the top of the hill, and he was looking back to me. I think he was black and I don't know why, but I somehow knew he was an escaped convict. I don't think there was any real danger from him, but I could have been wrong. He was looking at me like he was waiting for me to go down the gravel path. I hesitated and so either he, or I, slid down the hill on a big piece of cardboard, like it was a sled, as if to show the other that it was just fine to go down the path. There may have been another convict in this dream at one time, but if there was, I can't remember what he looked like or anything else about him.

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