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January 1989

Jan 1 - Jan 20 - Jan 22 - Jan 24 - Jan 25 - Jan 27

January 1st, 1989

I was at work. My cat, Plato, was there and I was trying to get his attention with his catnip mouse. There was a hole in the mouse and the catnip dust and stuff started to leak out and get into the air. I was worried about the particles it might generate and was concerned for what my boss, Arnold, might think. Later, a bunch of us (about twenty people or so), were at Arnold's house and we were drinking lots of beer. There were a couple of girls there and I think my brother Charles was with me. Arnold came home later with his wife. He was trying to plead with her not to be mad at us for partying in her house. I remember him calling her "Sweetheart." He told us to get out and take all of our party materials with us. He seemed to be henpecked and it was strange to see him in a mood other than the workaholic type. Arnold's wife looked disgusted and uglier than what I remember. She looked me right in the face once, and that sticks in my memory. The girls Charles and I were with told us to go to their house after we left Arnold's. They lived just next door and Charles and I went there. I think they were supposed to be our girlfriends or something. I remember sitting in their living room. I know a hell of a lot more happened but this is all I can remember.

January 20th, 1989

My father had a stroke last year that prevented him from being able to walk, but last night I dreamt that he could walk, sort of. We were at my job and he told me that I should come watch him walk. I followed him to another room where the office supplies are stored. On the way, he curled up his left arm and he was never able to do that since the stroke. In the office supply room , he started to try to do push-ups and I warned him that he should be careful not to strain himself. Then he tried to stand up on his own and he was having a lot of difficulty so I helped him. When trying to help him up, he fell forward onto me and the both of us almost lost our balance and fell to the floor. I think someone came into the room then and was upset that my dad and I were doing this.
I was at the house on top of South Hill where I grew up. I was with my brother Gerry and maybe some of my other brothers and sisters. We were by the chain link fence where there was a freeway on the other side that we used to hike to when I was a little kid, but now there was no freeway. We were hiking towards a mountain range instead that resembled a graph profile that I saw while in Calculus class yesterday when I was figuring an equation. We hiked towards the mountains but I can't remember what was there that was so important to get to. I think there were people there or something. When we returned, we looked back and realized there was a road that went all the way to the mountain range and we could have taken that instead of hiking through the rough terrain. On our way back to the house, we passed my whole family and Grandma Poppit was with them. The group was wondering where we were. Grandma looked right at me. Somewhere when we were hiking, I got dust in my eyes and I knew my eyes must look pretty red so I hurried past the group of people and walked fast up the stairs that went through the woods to the house. I couldn't move as fast as I wanted to. I wanted to hurry and use Visine or something before everyone caught on that my eyes were red.
My family was in a house, but I don't know which one. It could have been Aunt Doris's house, but I'm not sure. My sister Hannah was there and she was real depressed and had tried to commit suicide in some way. I think she was going to get arrested for this, or maybe she did get arrested. Karen, Hannah's daughter, acted calm and said she wanted to be with Hannah before everything would be okay. It was weird hearing Karen call her mother by her first name instead of calling her "mom."

January 22nd, 1989

I was walking along somewhere and I caught my jeans on a sharp metal object. It was sharp and jagged and ripped a big hole in the back of my jeans. I was mad because although the jeans weren't new, they certainly had a good year or so to go. I remember complaining about that fact.

January 24th, 1989

There was a guy that was being hunted by a killer. At first, the hunted man was someone I did not know, but then he turned out to be me. I was trying to get away from the killer, running down a hill that was covered by shrubbery and I kept tripping and falling over it. At the bottom of the hill was a stream and I was walking alongside it. In back of me was this killer and he shot me with an arrow that went through the back of my head, through my neck and mouth and the tip of it stuck out of my mouth. I remember the feeling of this arrow in my mouth and how it fit perfectly around my teeth and did not hit anything vital. I fell into the stream face down and the killer must have shot me with something else because there was a hole near my abdomen that bled into the stream. Little fish swam about the wound and ate my flesh as it drifted off into the water. The killer, being satisfied I was dead, ran up the hill and out into the street. He ran straight for an oncoming car, a car that had no hood. I think it was a GTO. For a while, I was the guy driving the car, but then I was also the killer. I made the killer do a head dive right into the car as it sped towards him. He landed in the engine and I assume it killed him. Meanwhile, I was still alive and crawled out of the stream. I pulled the arrow out of my head and discovered that it had ripped my upper lip. Blood splattered from a hole/wound in my lip and it swelled. I had problems speaking because of this so when I reached my friends, I wrote down what had happened on a piece of paper. A soap opera star was there and she said something like, "We really don't need to know what happened to you," as if she wanted to be spared the details. Nobody showed much sympathy for me and the hole in the back of my head and lip continued to bleed. I think I lived in a house but I can't remember what it was like.
I was in a speedboat and was driving on a swampy river behind another boat. The boat in front of me was faster, but I managed to keep up. I think I might have been flying in a helicopter or an airplane also, but it could have been some other dream that I dreamt a long time ago. Of course, a lot more stuff happened but I can't remember what.

January 25th, 1989

Bruce Dickinson, the singer for the band Iron Maiden, and I were buddies. He knocked on the front door of the house I was in (I think it was the house I lived in when I was seventeen and eighteen) and when I answered it, he spoke very raspy because he had laryngitis. He wanted me to take his place as the singer in his band until his voice came back.

January 27th, 1989

Two female soap opera stars were having an argument about something, but I don't know what. I think they were in a mansion and they were really getting into the argument, ranting and raving like mad. It was obvious they hated each other. Maybe they were even hitting one another. Anyway, two guys showed up and began to beat them up or rape them or both. I suddenly appeared in the picture and began to chase after these two guys who I did not know or really remember what they looked like. Anyway, I was with my the other students in my Digital class and as these two guys began to drive away in a Volkswagen Beetle, I pleaded with the other classmates to help me, but everyone seemed to think that there was no chance of catching the guys so nobody helped. I managed to grab the steering wheel of the VW and held onto it and as they drove off, I continued to hold on tight. It was attached to a cable or something and it stretched longer and longer as they got farther and farther away. It was almost too much for me to handle so I propped my legs up against a tree to try to hold the car back. Eventually the FBI showed up and the two guys were apprehended. We all surrounded them so they could not escape and everyone looked to me as a hero.
I was in my Digital Class in college. George Henderschott, the instructor, was screwing around. The class was suddenly at a house somewhere, maybe near a beach. As the students sat in the sand, George began to throw pebbles at the girl students to annoy them. Eventually the rock throwing got out of hand and an old friend of mine, Donald Notches, appeared on the scene. He picked up boulders and he tossed one at George which hit him in the leg. Limping, George walked to Donald but Donald dropped another huge rock and it hit George in the shin really hard. Some students were irritated that George was screwing off and not teaching. The next thing I knew, I was in a house and George was suddenly my dad and my mom was there. George (my dad) started to get worried and maybe even started to cry because he knew that students were pissed off at him for screwing around and not doing his job. As mom and dad looked extremely worried and stared into space with concern, I tried to console them, telling them not to worry and that everything was all right. Back in class, George was in his usual position in the front of the class and a secretary approached for some reason or another. I guess students wanted to drop out and when George asked for a show of hands of who wanted to drop out, about eight students raised their hands. When the secretary asked them why they wanted to drop out, one girl explained that there was too much screwing off and she needed to get her school work done. George told the secretary that it was just one of those strange crazy class days that doesn't happen very often and he seemed to be taking it OK now. I found myself staring at someone's lab report which I am having problems with. I tried to memorize the circuit diagram but tried not to make it obvious because we were passing these diagrams to the front of the room. I passed mine on as well.

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