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February 1998

Feb 3 - Feb 4 - Feb 18

February 3, 1998

I have the feeling that I was driving around downtown somewhere, although I can't remember a vehicle, I just had the feeling of driving or riding in a vehicle of some kind. Chong Tui was with me along with some other people that I can't recall right now. The next thing I recall is being at a house that reminded me of Ned Gauntletís house on Fruitland Avenue. In the dream, however, this was Chong's house. I remember mentioning that I had to go to the bathroom and then actually going to look for one. I was on the upper level of the house and I found a bathroom but I can't remember what it looked like. I do know that when I found it, I didnít want to use it for some reason - that's why I ended up in the basement of Ned's/Chong's house, looking for a bathroom down there. The entrance to the basement did not have a door and was about a two-door's width opening. Across this opening was laced a garden hose that was there to act as a door or to remind people to keep out or just to show that this is where the entrance to the basement is. The garden hose went from right to left once, then again, then on the third time the hose drifted down to the floor diagonally, I think from left to right as I looked out past the opening and into the house beyond the basement. When I had this view, I saw Chong and a couple other people standing on the other side of the garden hose/opening looking in at me. It was as though they were waiting for me to do my bathroom thing and they didnít show any interest in going past the hose. Behind them was open space and maybe a wall with another opening in it that led to whatever was beyond. There was a light from beyond and it was kind of dark where I was at. I walked about and found two barrel-like looking things on the floor that I took to be unusual shaped urinals. One was smaller than the other. I chose to use the larger one. It was two feet off the ground and three feet round and was full of water that wasn't really dirty, but I couldnít see very far into its depths. The barrel sides looked rusted. I donít know why I thought this was a receptacle to piss in, but I did. There were some people around in this part of the house. I remember one guy and at least a woman or two. The guy was the clearest to me. He was in his twenties and he had a beard and moustache and seemed hippie-like. The room around me had couches and other things and there were entrances into other rooms and the whole scene gave me the feeling there was a party going on. I started to pee in the large barrel thing until I couldnít go anymore. When I was done going, I had a better sense of the people around me but it didnít bother me that I had relieved myself in front of them nor did it seem to bother anyone in the room either. The guy with the beard was off to my right just a few feet away and a young woman sat off to my left in front of me a few feet. I think she regarded me with a smile then just sat there and looked around. The bearded guy and I talked to each other, and he mentioned something to me about what I had just peed in not being a toilet or a urinal. I looked down and realized that it wasn't a urinal at all, but rather, it was acting as a cooler to keep the drinks cold for this party. As I looked into the water I could see the faint outlines of cans of beverages in there. I guess the water was very cold and this is what kept the drinks cold. I said something to the guy about how I was sorry for pissing in this barrel/cooler thing but he shrugged it off, waving his hand nonchalantly and telling me that it was no big deal and not to worry about it. He then plucked a can of some kind of pop out of the cooler and asked me if I wanted it. I said sure and took it. It was pop, not beer, and I had the feeling there was no beer in the barrel at all, only pop. The pop I had was something like a lemon-lime soda or some other off the wall flavor like that. I remember as I walked away and headed back towards Chong and my other friends that I looked back over my shoulder to the bearded guy and kind of waved to him with the can of pop and said, "Thanks for the pop."
I was with some guys in a house. The house was a rambler and had a living room just off the front door, then there was another room farther back, like a rec room or something. That's where I was with two or three other guys. We were there with a couple of other people who we ended up killing. I donít think I did any of the actual killing. There was one guy who was very outgoing and bold, and he may have been me, but then again at times he seemed like he was just someone with me and not really me at all. This guy put a long knife or sword into the chest of one of the people with us. The person who got stabbed was a woman. There may have been someone else that was killed but I only remember seeing the woman. She had black shoulder length hair, maybe shorter, and her face didnít look horrified at all as the knife was sticking out of her, in fact, she kind of smiled. The guy who did the killing did so in a manner that was without conscience or guilt. He simply thrust the knives in and was very sure of what he was doing, although I think it was a surprise to the people who got it. I didnít want to be the one who did the killing, I made sure of that, although I was on the killer's side, his friend or acquaintance or, as I said before, it could have even been me. The woman with the knife in her chest, a knife with a blade about a foot and half long, was to the left and in front of me, lying back on the floor and looking away at an angle towards the upper part of the room. I remember reaching over and pushing the knife further into her chest and feeling it as it went through the breastplate and then slid easier into the softness below. After this we had a need to get rid of the bodies. I donít recall how we actually did it, but I had the feeling that we wrapped the bodies up in paper or something like that, much like the actor John Cusack did in the movie Gross Point Blank. I donít remember actually seeing what happened to the bodies after that but I had the feeling we buried them in the back yard. There was nothing left to show there had been a murder except for a bloody hand print on the carpet. The killer, or me, then sprinkled baking soda over it, like this would get rid of the stain and we all had to do was vacuum it up and the baking soda would absorb the stain. There was someone at the door and the guy that lived in this house, a wiry short-haired blond man in his twenties, answered the door. At the door was a police woman and she was the one from the movie Fargo. I think she was there earlier but had to leave for some reason and now she was back. As the guy who lived there talked to the police woman, the rest of us; me, the killer and maybe someone else, ran out the back of the house to escape. We got into a van of some sort and drove away along a long driveway like the one when driving into the parking lot of the church Lisa attends. While we were driving away, I had the vision of seeing the guy talking to the police woman at the door, and telling her how his place was in disarray and she shouldnít come in and could she make it some other time, when the real reason he didnít want her to come in was because there had been a murder or two in the room just off the living room and he didnít want the cop to find out. Meanwhile, the rest of us were driving away along the long driveway towards the street when suddenly we saw the guy who lived in the house come running towards us in a panic. Apparently he wanted to escape with us, not being very convincing to the police woman and he feared for his freedom. He ran up along side of us and the van door was swung open, the kind of door that swings alongside the van on tracks just like my Mercury Villager. He hopped in and we got the door shut just as the police woman came driving fast towards us. There were red lights flashing on the car and a siren whooped once or twice. I was scared shitless, thinking the cop would pull us over, but apparently the cop didnít see the guy jump into our van so she must have assumed he ran on out into the traffic somewhere. To my relief, she went by us and I saw her as her car pulled into the traffic of downtown and drove slowly along with it. I think we were somewhere by an intersection where there is a paint store, just north of a bar next to a restaurant my parents used to own. The cop was moving east to west. I asked the guy who lived in the house what had happened, why he had ran out of his house and got scared. He said that he was trying to explain to the cop that his house was a mess and he didnít want her to come in, and then the cop woman wrote something down in her notebook. She spoke what she was writing as she wrote it, saying, "Suspect is acting simple-minded" or something else like that which would suggest there was something suspicious going on. She spoke just like she did in that Fargo movie, very sure of herself and stating things openly as to try to get her job done.

February 4, 1989

I was standing around a pickup truck with a bunch of guys - who they were I donít know, but I think Ron was among them. Daisy was also there. We were bullshitting about stuff and drinking beer. I think the bed of the truck was to the right and the cab was to the left. It was day time. I needed to get another beer so I walked to the cab, which is where the beer was. Daisy was there also and I saw her with a beer in her hand that she had just opened and she started pouring the beer out on to the ground. She tipped the full bottle completely upside down and the beer poured rapidly out. The beer we had there was in bottles and I had the feeling it was Miller. I asked her what she was doing and she kind of smiled sheepishly and really didnít answer. I then asked her again and still she didnít answer. She just kind of smiled like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I said something to her about how I couldnít believe that she was just pouring the beer out. I then walked back to bullshit with the guys alongside the pickup truck.

February 18, 1998

I was at a house somewhere and I lived in a room on the top floor. I had the feeling that this was just a temporary living condition, like I was in a college dorm or on a business trip and this room was where I was staying during the trip. I got the feeling that the room had walls that went up in a V, like I was on the top floor of an A-frame cabin. The room was small, about twelve feet by seven feet. Beyond the room were other parts of the house and although I can only remember them vaguely, I do remember something like a room on the other end of a hallway and the beginning to a staircase leading down. In the room I was staying in was a mattress on the floor covered with a sheet and maybe a blanket, and this is where I was supposed to sleep. There may have been a window on the wall facing outside, but I can't specifically remember. Looking towards the door, there was some type of wooden counter about chest level high that had papers scattered around on it. On these papers were things that I had drawn and written from years ago, things I did not have in my possession now. I donít know how they got there, but I was glad to see them. I donít know specifically what was on those papers, but I do remember a picture of a person that kind of reminded me of the one in my High Book of the guy saying Ahhhhh who was losing sanity. I think these papers were there because I was the room's occupant but before I was there, there were papers scattered about on the counter that belonged to whoever the occupant was before me. I had left the room and did something else for a while, which I can't remember, then I came back. When I did, Flora Tins was there and she was showing some guy around the room. I guess he was going to be the new occupant to the room, something which I didnít like the feel of, so I said to them boldly, "May I help you?" my tone suggesting that this is my territory and what can I do for you? I donít remember at all what the man looked like but I do remember Flora. She noticed the drawings and writings of mine in the room and said something to me like, "Make your mark, Max," like she was implying that it was impressive that I had made it clear that this was my space. There was no question as to who's room this was after that.

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