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June 2001

Jun 2 - Jun 18 - Jun 19 - Jun 30

June 2, 2001

I had this dream because I watched that movie Traffic last night with Lisa. I was dreaming about the part when Catherine Zeta-Jones confronts the drug cartel in Mexico when she was 6 months pregnant and was trying to work out some kind of deal with them to release her husband from the grips of the law. I was dreaming about the part when she showed them a figurine of a rabbit that was actually made out of cocaine and she proceeded to dissolve it in water so she could show them how it was actually coke. In my dream there was an aquarium, about a 5- or 10-gallon model, and in this there was water that came to within inches of the top. In this water was where Catherine had placed the figurine to dissolve it to extract the cocaine. I donít think I was actually in this dream; I just kinda viewed it all in some dreamlike way. I remember Catherine looking into the water from the top of the aquarium and she was going to touch the water but was interrupted by one of the men there, who was a scientist type person who was balding, had those black-rimmed glasses you always picture smart scientist guys wearing, and was wearing a white lab coat. Catherine reached out with an index finger and was going to touch the water but then the scientist guy stopped her, telling her not to touch the water. He didnít say why but I got the feeling it was because the water was like acid or something like that and would burn her hands if she got them in there. Catherine pulled her hand away and immediately after that the scientist guy reached toward the water with his own finger and was going to touch it but then pulled his hand back quickly as if remembering Wait a second, that waterís dangerous! as if he had forgotten that after just telling Catherine that. There was probably some other scientist guy there as well that had stopped Catherine from touching the water instead of the balding, short one, but I can remember very little to nothing about him. The next thing I recall is there being a feeling in the air of danger, like these drug guys were going to hurt Catherine in some way, so to defend herself Catherine suddenly turned into a werewolf, which is interesting because I recall in other dreams I have had where there is danger where there seems to be no escape from and instead of getting myself killed I frantically search for a way out of it. To escape this danger, which means certain death from being beat up or something else like that, I searched deep into my mind for an escape and what I come up with was to transform into a werewolf. Apparently I feel that turning oneself into a werewolf makes you able to defend yourself against any man and, therefore, are out of danger. Anyway, Catherine turned into a werewolf, although the transformation wasnít quite as defined as an actual werewolf might look. There was hair on her face and she really didnít look like herself anymore. There were patches of hair missing on her face and it really was a bad-looking werewolf, but a werewolf she was. There were two main bad guys she had to deal with and suddenly this werewolf and the two main bad guys were on a boat, a 15-foot speedboat type, skimming across the surface of a body of water. The werewolf and the bad guys were standing up toward the back of the boat as it zoomed away to the right. Around here the werewolf started to look even weirder, now resembling that talking cartoon salmon that is in those commercials to remind people not use so much fertilizer on their lawns because it harms the little fishies and other things in the environment. As this salmon/werewolf thing stood up, facing the right, the two bad guys tried to throw her (Catherine I suppose) overboard and into the water, something drug lords must do from time to time to rid themselves of pesky in-the-way humans. However, since Catherine was now a werewolf (or salmon or whatever), she was able to toss these goons easily over the side instead of going into the water herself. The vision of this was odd. I had the feeling that special effects were needed to actually film the boat zooming along and the men being thrown into the water. It was as if the boat was just propped up in a studio somewhere and was in front of a green screen and the scene of the water replaced the green screen, thus giving the illusion that they were on the water when they really werenít. The boat and people standing on it seemed real enough, but the image of the water behind them kind of looked drawn into the scene, or off color so as to suggest that the boat was on one plane of vision and the water was on another. When the werewolf/salmon/Catherine thing tossed one of the guys into the water I saw his body being swallowed up by the waves. However, sensing that they really werenít on the water and it was all just a trick of the camera, I watched very closely as the werewolf/salmon tossed the next bad guy into the water. It looked real enough, the bad guy transferring from the boat into the water with a splash that looked like it actually happened. To further make it look like the boat was actually in the water and it wasnít just a trick of the camera, the second guy that got tossed over actually reached up and grabbed onto the side of the boat with his left hand as he was in the water. I was impressed with this, knowing that the two scenes were actually separate but Hollywood magic made it look like it was all one panorama.

June 18, 2001

I was in a different country that could have been Japan or Mexico, but I get the feeling it was more like Mexico. I was sitting on a grassy knoll by the side of the road smoking some pot with someone who I think was Horton Jastin. We were probably smoking joints. Suddenly a cop approached us and confronted us about smoking pot, as any good cop would do. I noticed that Horton had left and I was by myself, and was suddenly very frightened because getting caught with drugs in Mexico when you are an American is a very, very bad thing to have happen to you. I cannot remember any details about this cop but Iím sure he was the usual, short black-haired-with-sunglasses-Eric-Estrada-looking type dude. There was no denying that I had been smoking pot and he was going to take me to jail; but instead of whisking me off right away he decided to fuck with my head first. The cop showed me some pictures, Polaroids perhaps, and he asked me to identify what was in the pictures, suggesting that if I could then he would not take me to jail. He held up a picture in front of my face and asked me to tell him what I thought the picture was of. In the picture I saw three garbage cans, the kind the city gives you to put your trash in so their garbage trucks can come by and pick them up automatically with their robot arm things. I told the cop that they looked like trash cans but apparently they were recycle cans, not trash cans. It was a trick question because the trash cans and the recycle cans look exactly alike except that trash cans are green and recycle cans are blue. The ones in these pictures were blue so I had gotten the answer wrong. At this point I started hyperventilating, standing there while in- and exhaling rapidly like there was no tomorrow. I was terrified, certain that I was going to be taken away and butfucked by some gringo in a Mexican prison. I was escorted away with this cop and the next thing I recall is being on a train, traveling to wherever it is that people get taken to that are caught with marijuana in Mexico. I was off the train and was suddenly in a house in another city. In this house there was a bathroom. I imagine this bathroom to be a room where you enter going north and to the left is a small shower much like the one in my house now. To the right is a large closet with a door. Inside this closet was a small baby/infant, wrapped in a receiving blanket, a dirty white model. Inside the closet, which was a 6 x 6-foot number, wasnít much, just some things lying on the floor that were probably thin white blankets that remind me of one I have at home that I use only to cover the roof on tents I make in the living room when Lisa is away and the kids and I go wild. This baby is a fretful little thing and I was worried that people were going to find it. I didnít know why I was worried about that, whether it was because I had kidnapped the baby and didnít want anyone to find it, therefore, charge me with another crime, or because I was trying to protect it from getting hurt; I get the feeling I had kidnapped the kid and that was why I was worried. It was dark in that closet. I kept worrying that the baby would cry and people would find it, but it kept quiet the entire time and never made a peep, although I recall seeing the expression on its face as it laid there bundled up in its swaddling clothing; it looked concerned, kinda scared, and on the brink of a whine, but it never did sound off. When I was in the house, trying to act casual as hell to not bring attention to myself, I looked out the front door, which was as I picture the Trailer Zone II door to be. It was like I was on a train and the world beyond was zipping by at a train-on-the-go pace. Outside the train door/front door to the house, was the cop that busted me smoking pot and he was running like hell to keep up with the train. Apparently there were some people after him and he was clutching with his hands like mad to try and grab hold of anything on the side so he could jump on and continue on with the trip. I reached out the door and grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside the trailer/mobile home. Now that I think about it, I wonder why I cared about the Mexican cop when he was trying to jail me, and if I left him behind then I might not get jailed, but perhaps we became friends or something. Eventually I was by myself again and I was able to leave, although I get the feeling I was still a criminal and if the law caught me then I would be jailed. Maybe I gave the cop the slip somehow. There was a feeling that if I went back to Osaka, which was, apparently, where I flew into this country at, which would mean that I was actually in Japan and not Mexico, and then I would get caught by the law enforcement officials. However, I had left all my stuff at the Osaka Airport, such as my suitcases and everything else I brought into this country with me, so I knew I had to leave that stuff at the airport. I felt that if I just went straight to a terminal to take an airplane home to SeaTac Airport instead of going through the act of trying to get my luggage and do all that waiting-in-line stuff, then I would be able to escape the law and would be a free man.

June 19, 2001

I went camping on Mountain Rainier with William, my son, and Priscilla, my niece. I was up at Paradise by the Visitors Center and suddenly it was time to go. I had been walking away from the Visitors Center, was almost at the parking lot area there, but then I turned around to go back up on the trails surrounding that Space-Needle-looking building. The Visitors Center and the mountain were to the left of me, and the mountain ranges and surrounding peaks were to the right and in front of me. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was a perfect day. There were numerous people scattered about, as there usually are on nice summer days like this on the mountain. As I walked along a sidewalk or trail just to the right of the Visitors Center, I noticed a woman walking toward me. She approached and I saw that it was Freida Bolinger, someone I havenít seen in over 20 years. Her and I met one another on the path and Iím sure we talked about something but I canít recall what. Apparently this action of meeting her on the trails surrounding the Visitors Center happened several times, each time as one of us were on our way to the parking lot and the other was going back to explore the trails in this area. One time I would be on my way out and she would be on her way in, and then vice versa. We would always seem to meet at about the same place, just to the right and in front of the Visitors Center, as we walked in opposite directions. After this scenario I recall being on a trail, perhaps above the Visitors Center and further into the woods or on another part of the mountain entirely. I had Priscilla and William with me and we were walking along a trail on a flowery hillside, much like one you encounter when hiking along the Narada Falls to Paradise trail. There was a trail there about 50 feet away from where I viewed this and we walked from left to right. The details are hazy, of course, but Priscilla was attacked and killed by a bear. It was a horrible thing and I started to feel like crap because I was wondering how the hell I would explain this to Stuart, that his daughter had been killed by a bear while under my supervision while camping. The next thing I recall is being on a body of water, either a large lake or a bay. I was in a rowboat, maybe 10 feet long, and had a fishing line out into the water. I remember seeing the translucent line as it stretched into the depths of the water at an angle, as if I viewed this from underwater. It was strange, but it was like William and Priscilla were on the end of my fishing line in the water. I donít think they had been put there intentionally, but I felt a great panic in trying to retrieve them and get them back into the boat before they drowned. As I looked into the dark water under my boat I could see the ominous, terrifying shape of something large and white. I got the impression that it was a beluga whale, and although I suppose beluga whales may not be something to be worried about, this one was definitely a killer. It was 20 feet long and 6 feet wide, and I watched as it skimmed just feet below my boat. It started bumping the side of the boat, making it hard for us to hang on, and this bumping eventually caused William and Priscilla, who somehow were no longer in the water on the end of my fishing line, to fall over the side and into the water. I was unable to save Priscilla but perhaps I could save William. I recall being in a shack, a dark and cramped space on a dock floating atop the water. In there I had in my hands the body of William, who was only 2 inches long at this point. This small body in my hands really didnít resemble William at all Ė it was scrawny and the face wasnít that of my son; however, in this dream this is what my son was represented by. This small William had drowned because of falling into the water but I tried to use CPR on him anyway. I leaned over and blew a small puff into Williamís mouth, reminding myself of what that one fireman guy said in the Lamaze class Lisa and I attended about giving mouth-to-mouth to infants; that you should be careful not to blow into them a regular amount of air because their lungs are so small and you just might blow them up! Therefore, I blew just a small puff into little Williamís lungs and I did revive him, although the feeling in the dream was that he actually did die and I wasnít able to completely revive him. I lost my son. I was back on the dock again in this harbor and I came across a portion of the dock that was pretty flimsy and didnít look too stable. It reminded me of that long bridge Indian Jones had to cross in that movie Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, although this was floating on the water instead of suspended in air, as if I really had to explain that to you, and wasnít quite as long as that one in the move. It was as if this section of dock simply floated on the water and had no real supports underneath to hold up anyoneís weight that might venture onto it. Because of this, and also because of the beluga whale monster thing that was gliding just feet below the surface of the dock and awaiting any chance it could to snag someone from up above, I ran across the flimsy dock part as fast as I could, therefore not keeping my weight in any one spot long enough for the dock to sink. Around this point of the dream I looked to the right and could see the head of the beluga as it surfaced. The shape and size of the whale head was accurate enough but the face resembled that of a human; a distorted, vague face that was probably of a man. The features were serious, bewildered, angry, and curious, and there may have been the slightest hint of a moustache. Anyway, at the other end of this flimsy piece of dock was a building, kind of like a large, woodsy shack but bigger than the one that I gave CPR to William in. Inside this shack/building thing, lining the right wall, was a confessional like you find in a catholic church. It was just like the one I remember from All Saintís Church with three doors; the one in the middle for the priest and the two on the ends for the confessing sinners. There were some dimly-lit candles glowing as they sat in their perspective holders on the wall, one on each side of the confessional. The light by their flames was a comforting fireplace-flame-like yellow while the rest of the room was in a gloomy, soft glow. The sight reminded me of the opening scene of The Temple of Xian, that level on Tomb Raider II. I went inside my designated spot in the confessional, which was the booth on the left, and sat in there and talked to the priest. However, this person was not really a priest at all but rather, someone from Covenant Celebration Church who reminded me of that woman named Trasia that Lisa knows. I was in an erratic state, having just lost my son and niece while they were in my care, but as I started confessing to this woman, who was probably Trasia, I explained that I had just gotten out of prison, although I cannot recall anything about being in any prison in this dream up to that point. I explained to Trasia, babbling and sobbing, that I had committed adultery and that was why I was in prison; apparently, in this dream world you can go to prison for committing adultery. I told Trasia that I was really sorry for doing what I had done and I felt just terrible. I said that I just needed to know that God was there, that he actually did exist and was going to help me get over this anguish I felt. The next thing I recall is walking down out of the woods off of Mountain Rainier to meet Lisa and Stuart. I was walking along a ridge that was like a levee but with no water at its sides; just mountain grass, wildflowers, and trees surrounding me. This is where I came across Stuart and Lisa walking toward me. It was scheduled for them to meet me here at this certain time when my camping trip was over because they were going to give me a ride home. In addition to Stuart and Lisa, my mom and dad were also there. I was in shock, knowing I was going to have to tell these people that William and Priscilla were dead. It was a horrible feeling, one of those dreams that just pisses me off for even having it; one that proves to me there is someone or something other than myself responsible for what goes on in my head. I felt numb with despair and remember Cranston, my nephew, walking around and looking this way and that and asking where his sister Priscilla was. When it became clear to me that I could no longer put off explaining where Priscilla was, I somehow told Stuart what had happened. I donít remember what I actually said, but I think I kind of said in a roundabout way what had happened, beat around the bush. Stuart, however, as did everyone else, picked up on it immediately and knew that Priscilla was dead. Stuart instantly started wailing: ďOh no, no, no, not my little girl!Ē and he started crying. My mom and dad stood there and tried to comfort me but for some reason this upset me, them trying to make it feel as if everything were okay when it certainly was not okay. I was crying my eyes out, feeling pain I never have before, especially when I was supposed to feel bad for Priscilla at this particular moment but torn between that and the much more intense grief I felt for having actually lost my one and only son. I walked away from my folks and everyone else, not able to deal with the situation. The next thing I recall is sitting down with Stuart and Lisa at a table, discussing the loss of Priscilla and what we could do about it. Stuart sat to the left of me and Lisa sat across the table in front of me. As if to try and alleviate some of the pain Stuart was feeling, he mentioned that he was just going to possess my camper. What this meant was that because Priscilla had died while in my care, then for my punishment I had to turn over the pink slip on my camper to Stuart. I donít recall having a camper in this dream, although I guess I must have. I wouldnít have cared in the least for him to possess my camper but it kind of made me mad and I said to him something like: ďWhat do you mean you? I donít want Nellie to have it, too!Ē I said this because Stuartís wife is such a bitch that I didnít dare want her to have any part of my camper, which I considered might not happen anyway because Nellie and Stuart are going through hard times right now and are probably going to get divorced. Nevertheless, it surprised me that I gave a shit about my camper, Nellie, or anything else at that moment because I was in such grief over the loss of William that I should not have been able to rationalize anything. I then left this scene to search out my mother and father. I came across them as they were walking about on a hiking trail up on the side of the hill where Priscilla was killed and where I had come down from to meet Lisa, Stuart, and my folks earlier. My dad could walk just fine and showed no signs of the strokes that had killed him. My folks were quiet and mellow, and just seemed interested in hearing what I had to say instead of offering their opinions. I explained to them that I was sorry that I had gotten upset with them earlier, that the reason that I had was because my mind was shot with having to deal with the death of my niece and son. There came a point when I didnít have to confront anyone and was able to get away with my thoughts. When that point came I remember turning away from whoever was there and I immediately began crying and screaming for my son.
This was not your average dream. The feelings I experienced with this one were overwhelming emotions of dread and anguish, ones like I have never felt before. I was 100% sure that William had died from drowning and he was gone forever. The terror that invoked in me was unreal, knowing that I could never again say anything to him or see his smiling face or watch him zip around the yard with an energy I wish I still had. This outpouring of emotion was so great that it snapped me out of my dream state and forced me awake. When I did wake up, of course I was in shock to learn that it was all just a little mind trip and that my son wasnít really dead after all. I didnít find it amusing one bit. With the sorrow of the dream still heavy upon me, I went directly into Williamís room. Lisa was there at his bedside, waking him up. I explained to Lisa that I had a dream where William died by drowning, and I then held William close in his bed and started crying. After a few moments of this, I went in Sarahís room to wake her up, held her close and cried some more.

June 30, 2001

I was in a motorcycle race with numerous other people, Jethro being one of them. I didnít feel like I would do very well because I figured someone like Jethro would do much better, being more in tune with motorcycles, cars, engines and all that. There was a scene where I looked ahead of me on the road to where all us bikers were headed and I was going down a hill, much like that one by 176th and Meridian that leads down to the dump. This scene also kind of looked like what one sees when doing one of those motorcycle, race car, or jet ski video games at the arcade where you sit on a seat and there is a big screen in front of you to try to give you the feeling of actually doing what it is you paid a few quarters to do. When I looked down into the valley I could see Jethro on his motorcycle, at least a quarter of a mile ahead of me, and this didnít bother me because I knew that he was going to win anyway. There were several races we were involved in and one of them I won. The races had different names and this one was called The Blue Race. I was surprised I had won it, as was Jethro. There was a room where there was a large, sticky blue wall in the middle of it. This wall was around 8 feet high and wide and about a half foot thick. It was entirely blue and was covered with a sticky substance like the underside of duct tape. I ran up to the wall and threw my body onto it and instead of falling back to the ground, I stuck to the wall like a wad of butter flung at a wall. Doing this meant that I was the winner of the race; apparently, whoever won the race had to fling their body against this sticky wall, the color of which would be the color of the race that you won, and stick to it. The next thing I recall is walking along the road by where Jethroís folksí mailbox was in Arkansas, and telling Jethro about how I was going to stay in Arkansas on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday but then I had to go back home for some occasion that was going to happen, but I donít know what that was.

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