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January 1995

Jan 2 - Jan 23 - Jan 25 - Jan 27

January 2, 1995

A lot happened but all I can remember is the end of this dream. Throughout this dream I had been doing a lot of stuff with several different people, although I can't remember what or with who. At the end of the dream, I was sitting in a lawn chair and was facing some people and was talking to them. Behind me was a guy who had been in this dream with me, although I can't remember him, only that he was about my age and I think he had short hair. He was hitting someone in the face over and over again, about twenty times, and I thought nothing of it because I figured I knew who it was he was beating on and that they deserved it, so I just kept on talking with these people and they talked back as if the guy pounding on someone's face behind me was nothing. Then I turned around and my worst fear was before my eyes. The person the guy had been pounding on was Sarah, and she was crying for forgiveness and for him to stop beating on her. She said something like, "Just tiny little pebbles..." as if the reason the guy was hitting her was because she had been playing with some pebbles that she shouldn't have been, or that she had been playing with a Pebbles Flintstone doll, which was also a no-no. She was trying to explain that it was just tiny little pebbles and she didn't realize it was wrong to play with it, and her voice was so precious and she was crying, but the guy, hearing this, found this reason to pound away even faster and so he did. I remember the sound of his fist going wham! wham! wham! over and over again, even faster than before. At this point, the dream ended, but I knew that if it continued that I would have, without a doubt, killed this guy on the spot. I woke up and realized it was a dream, and instantly I got up and searched for Sarah and she was home, as we all were, because we all had strep-throat. I found her in my bedroom and told her that I had a dream that someone hurt her and I was damned near crying because I was so horrified. Sarah kept asking what was wrong because she could tell I was sad about something and when I told her that I had a dream, she told me that no one was hurting her, that it was only a dream, and she was hugging me and telling me everything was okay, which only made crying even harder to stop. Some tears did come and if I would have just let go, I know I would have balled my eyes out. That dream really pissed me off and I find it very hard to forgive whatever God there is for doing that to me. I don't understand why such things have to enter our minds. The sickening feeling of knowing that someone was beating my little girl to a pulp will be with me to the day I die. After a while, I went back into the den and fell asleep, then had another dream.
Again, like the first dream on this night, a lot of stuff happened in the beginning but I can only remember the end. I was in a building with some other people but I don't remember who they were. We were in the lower part of the house, perhaps the basement. We were walking along in what appeared to be water, and it was about shin high. As we sloshed through the water, I looked around and noticed some trough-like attachments connected to the walls to my left. They were about one or two feet off the ground and followed the walls the entire length, even when the walls changed directions. In these troughs there were cats hopping along, I remember at least one or two. As the cats jumped along the length of these troughs, I could see them splashing with whatever liquid was in the troughs. They would leap about a four or five foot distance then land farther along the trough, splashing the liquid when they landed. There was a woman among the group of people I was with and she made a comment about the cats jumping. Apparently what was in these troughs was hot grease because the woman said something about how she was wondering why the cats were put in the hot grease to cook, how it didn't seem right. That made me feel that maybe we were in some kind of restaurant and the cooks used these troughs to fry stuff in, and the cats were unlucky enough to get caught or be thrown into the grease. As we continued to walk along, one of the cats jumped out of the grease and approached me. I think it was a cat like the kind Anthony and Ila left behind. As it walked towards me it opened its mouth wide, as if to show me something inside. It opened its mouth wider and wider and soon I was looking deep down its throat. Farther and farther I could see down its throat until it felt like I was actually going down the cat's gullet. As I traveled along its throat, I noticed the bumps on the cat's tongue. They stood out as white bumps among the dark background. Soon the scene began changing and eventually I stopped traveling downward. I don't think I was actually inside the cat, but I was in a world now that going down the cat's throat allowed me to get to. The white bumps that were on the cat's tongue took on the shape of people and soon I found myself at an ice-skating rink. There were lots of people around skating and I was standing among a group that included Lisa and Sarah. There may have been a few other folks there but I can't remember who they were. There was a bench, like a park bench, in the middle of the rink and that was where we were standing. Some of the people in this group (not myself or Sarah but maybe Lisa) were sitting on the bench. I'm sure we all had ice skates on. We were standing there talking when I mentioned I had to go to the bathroom. I think Sarah wanted to go with me but I started walking away like I was going without her. When I did this, walking to the backside of the bench, Sarah started crying and freaking out, thinking I was going to leave her and go to the bathroom without her. I actually wasn't - I was just pretending to be leaving, but it really worried Sarah. After that I waited for her to join me so we could both go off together.
I had these two different dreams on the same day, and they both dealt with Sarah and the love we have for one another. Ain't it the truth.

January 23, 1995

There was some stuff happening that I can't remember, but the part of this dream I recall is someone, I think Charles, and he was operating some kind of hydraulic press in a mill of some type. I could see this hydraulic thing from about forty feet away, at the end of some kind of hallway. The piece of equipment consisted of a dumbwaiter/elevator-type opening in which there was a platform on which you put things that needed to be lifted upward. The platform would lift up and meet the top of the ceiling inside the dumbwaiter. I was doing something with someone inside this mill-type building when suddenly we heard Charles screaming. He was panicking and was screaming that something had gotten caught inside the press. A few of us scrambled up to the press to see what had gotten caught in it. There was a man, in his forties and bald, who reminded me of Randy Mulsinth, and he approached the front of the press. On the wall there was a wheel of some sort, resembling the kind of metal thing you spin on that tire thing they use to take tires on and off at the gas station. This wheel was about a foot round and the bald man started turning it to turn off the power or to stop the movement of the press. The doors in the front of the press weren't quite closed so we could see what was trapped inside. It was a dog or some other similar animal, and it was being pressed to death by this hydraulic thing. There was some kind of cone-shaped spear on the floor of the press and this was turning and ripping into the dog, splattering blood all over the dumbwaiter and the floor just outside it. It was a freak accident. Later, I was back doing something with some people and suddenly we heard Charles screaming again in that same terror-stricken tone. We scrambled upstairs to the press and saw that this time it was Charles who was caught inside the dumbwaiter press. The bald man again ran to the metal wheel on the wall and turned it to stop the press but it was too late because, like the dog before, Charles was ripped up by the cone-spear. Blood splattered all over the press, the doors (which were partially open like they were with the dog), and the floor outside the press. I remember that when the man turned the metal wheel, he turned it to the right, which seemed odd in the dream, like turning it right was the wrong direction and it should have been turned left, but turning it right did stop the press.

January 25, 1995

I met Charles at the stoplight on 72nd Street, at the bottom of the hill where it turns level to go into downtown Puyallup. The time was 5:25, but I can't recall how I knew that. I may have seen it on a watch or written down, but I'm not sure. I met Charles on the left hand side of the street, as you go down 72nd from my house. There was something about the time 5:25 that needed to be drilled into my head, so I had a vision of being with Hector Comstock. I can't recall if we were at work or what, but we may have been wearing smocks. He wanted me to make sure of a certain time, 5:25 being one of the times, so he sat at a table with his back to me and said something like, "Here let me show you." He began writing down on a piece of paper about six inches long that resembled a piece of paper torn off from one of the machines we use at work. As I looked over Hectorís shoulder, he wrote down three different times, one of them 5:25, and the other two were around 5:25. I think one was 5:15 and the other was around 5:30. He wanted to impress upon me that I made sure that 5:25 was the time I paid close attention to. It was weird, but the times on the paper he was using somehow had something to do with some Tater Tots that were on the paper, attached to it, or by the side, or the Tater Tots actually were the paper that the times were written on. One side of the Tater Tots (there were about three of them) were browned, like the side that sits on the pan when you bake them. After this little scene, I was back at the bottom of 72nd Street, but I can't remember seeing Charles anymore, although I'm sure I saw him at the beginning of the dream. I was still on the left side of the street (east side) and had to, for some reason, walk across to the other side. I looked across the street and saw a guy, about my age, wearing a bicycle helmet and walking a ten-speed bike across the street towards me. I remember there being stop lights, either on the sides of the street where we stood or in the air where they usually are, and I observed them as the guy walked his bike across 72nd towards me, like I was making sure they were the right color so it was okay to cross. I remember seeing green traffic lights but I don't know if they were this color when the guy crossed. The next thing I remember is being on the other side of the street from where the guy came from and having my own ten-speed. I was pushing it up 72nd, as if I couldn't ride it for some reason. Suddenly I was in a brown Camaro, like the kind Jamas Youngby used to own, down at the bottom of 72nd again on the left hand side of the street where I started. There was a building there, like a corner store or something, which is unusual because there are no buildings there, and I drove around to the front of it to get away from where I was. I made a sharp turn and found myself on some back streets, like I had meant to take a shortcut instead of the main highway. I found myself on some unfamiliar back streets. I was at an intersection, looked to my left and saw three police cars driving my way. The third one on line pulled into a driveway on the opposite side of the street and the others drove on by. This told me they weren't after me but rather, were spacing themselves apart on the street for some police type operation just like some cops did that I followed once when I was in Arkansas many years ago. Not seeing the cops anymore, I turned to the left and drove towards another intersection that had a stop sign on the right hand side. Beyond it were some bushes, or tall grass and reeds about seven feet tall, bordering the street that went left and right at the intersection. I don't remember turning either direction, although I know I did. Regardless, I ended up getting lost and I started taking different turns to get out of this maze of back streets, but continued to be lost. I found myself driving down a narrow dirt road, almost too narrow and worn to be an actual road where cars are supposed to travel. As I drove down it, there was a wall of some kind to the left of me and protruding out from the wall was a large screwdriver, about one foot off the ground. When I drove by, I twanged the screwdriver with the car and it went bouncing back and forth, like one of those doorstop things. There was also a chain hanging down from some type of ceiling that I cannot identify. It was one of those chains that you see in an auto shop, the kind where they hang engines from. I don't think I hit this chain on the way in. The road led me to a place that was like someone's front yard. It was a small, muddy and maybe even swampy setting and on it was an old, rickety building like a shack. Sitting in front of the porch of this shack was a hillbilly type character in a rocking chair. He kept his eyes low and I don't think we really made eye contact. There was another man whom I can remember nothing about other than he was about my age, and he was standing to the left of the shack, where there may have been another building of some sort. This man looked at me as I drove into this area and just kind of acknowledged me. As soon as I drove in, I realized I was in the wrong place so I did a U-turn so I could drive out the way I came. This place where the two guys were reminded me of some dwelling on the bayou back in the Louisiana swamps or something like that. I kind of smiled at the guy and said that I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone because I was lost and couldn't seem to find where I wanted to go. He smiled back like he understood and kind of walked to one side, as if avoiding getting in the way of my car. Later, I was in a house talking to a guy about buying some drugs. This house was also a place that I ended up in when trying to drive out of the maze of back streets, but now I was no longer in my car; I was standing in a house. Behind the guy I was talking to, I could see some stairs that went to an upper level in the house so this gave me the feeling I was in a basement or lower recroom of this two or three story home. I was talking to the guy about buying something and he showed me a box of some laundry soap or anti-freeze in the corner of the room that he said he said he could sell to me for ten dollars. At the time, ten dollars seemed like a deal for the laundry soap or antifreeze or whatever it was and I remember feeling interested in buying some. The guy went upstairs for a while and when he came back I remember mentioning to him that I wanted to buy some crack or crank. When I mentioned the word crank, the word came out kind of muffled, as if I was scared to say it for fear he might think I was a nark and was going to bust him. But instead, he smiled at me and asked "Crank?" and when he smiled, he suddenly reminded me of Lance Stanton, the guy who did the estimate on my mini-van damage. There was a tire in the middle of the floor between us and suddenly our attention focused on this. There was some Saran wrap on the top of the tire and I think I may have put it there, but why, I have no idea. We were discussing the fact that Saran wrap does not hold to items as well as cling wrap, and to prove our point, we observed that the Saran wrap was coming off the top of the tire. There was a woman there all of a sudden, or maybe she was there all along, and she reminded me of Smelly Nellie. She was being loud and making comments about the Saran wrap as well, saying shit like, "Yeah, see? It's coming off and doesn't hold as well as Cling wrap!" The next thing I remember is the guy (Lance) going upstairs again, apparently to get some drugs. I remember hearing some guys in the house somewhere asking him if he was going to go upstairs to get some drugs, maybe because they were just interested or maybe because they wanted Lance to bring them back some drugs. I pictured these guys as about two or three lazy hippie types, lounging around with their feet up on cushions as they sat in lazy chairs, and they were just sitting around getting high or something. They may have been sitting upstairs from me, but Lance was going up even another story above them, perhaps the attic, and that was where he kept his stash. I could see the guys lounging around in an area that appeared to be a kitchen, and there was a window behind them that looked out into the world beyond. The view showed the street and surrounding neighborhood. Apparently Lance went upstairs to get some drugs for me, as though I had indicated that I was going to buy some although I can't recall saying I would. When he did go upstairs, I saw a chance to escape because I just wanted to get out of there. When I did, I found myself suddenly upstairs, like I had thought this was a way to escape, but all it did was get me to the top of the house. No one noticed I had gone yet although I was in the area that resembled a kitchen. I was scared that they would see me now that I was up to the second story. I contemplated going back down, as if escaping would be easier that way, and I think I started going back downstairs.

January 27, 1995

I was at the house where I grew up at the top of South Hill. Although a lot went on, I can remember nothing of it. What I do remember was leaving the house in a car that Charles was driving. I was kind of concerned because I had left William alone in the house and although he was sleeping, I didn't feel good about leaving him alone. I explained this to Charles but he said not to worry, that we were just going to SQC, which apparently was the name of a small store like the one next to the trailer we used to live in during the early 1980ís. He was real nonchalant about it, saying, "It's just a little ways," real smooth-like, like I had nothing to worry about and don't sweat it. Nevertheless, I was still concerned about leaving William alone in the house by himself. As Charles started driving up South Hill from our driveway, I asked how far this SQC store was. He didn't answer so after a few seconds I said, "Charles? How far to the SQC store?" My tone implied Did you hear me? I can't remember him answering but he may have. I had my answer regardless because soon we were driving on the street that I remember as 103rd Street, only it looked different. The freeway fence that brings the street to a dead end after about two hundred feet wasn't there, and the road led to a building about a quarter mile ahead and to the left. I guess this must have been the SQC store. I remember little about it, just that it appeared to be a one story place, had a regular teepee roof, and the building looked like it was at least fifteen hundred square feet. Suddenly I noticed it was night time, although I don't think it was earlier in the dream. The road we were on is narrow and muddy. To the right of us is a grassy hill, and to the left was a shallow valley that dipped down about ten feet lower than the main road then leveled out and spread for about a quarter mile or so, like a huge field. Something happened as we were about halfway to the store. The car slipped and slid into the basin on the left side of the road. The ground in this basin/valley was real slippery and wet and when the car went into it, it slid backwards uncontrollably across the entire valley. The ground was grassy and swampy and Charles was unable to control the sliding. As we slid to the other side of the valley, I could see our tire tracks in the grass before us and how they dug into the turf and left trails of dark mud, like tire tracks would look when someone peels out on someone's lawn. Charles and I sat there, waiting for the sliding to end and we knew that when it did that we would have to try to get back onto the road. At the end of the valley where we were headed, was a hill that curved up and this more or less stopped our progress. After we backed up the hill, we stopped, then our momentum shifted and we started going back the other way. At this point, Charles put the gas on to make sure we would get back to the road from where we were just seconds ago. He gunned the gas and the car slid along the grass as we raced along the valley. The car fishtailed a little because the traction wasn't very good. As we neared the road, Charles continued pushing the gas to make sure we would make it up the ten foot incline to the road. We made it all right, then continued going past the road and then up the hill on the other side. Apparently we were going so fast that we couldn't stop. When the car went past the road, there was no bump to indicate we had just passed over the road. Instead, it was a smooth line of travel, as if there was no change in surface conditions. Realizing we had gone too far, Charles let up on the gas and we then began backing down the hill towards the road again. When we did this, Charles made sure to crank the wheel to the right which backed the car into the road, pointing us in the direction of the SQC store again.

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