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March 1998


March 14, 1998

1
I was at a house somewhere with some people and it may have been some type of party. I really can't remember any of the other people in this dream except for Charles, who I saw later on. The house I was in, I had the feeling, was an elegant mansion type place that may have been kind of gloomy. I have the feeling there was a young woman, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties, and she was playing a violin. She had black hair and was wearing a long, dark dress, like a navy blue color. After some time, I found myself trying to put this violin away. The violin was not to be put in a case, but rather it was to be hung up in a display case, like a trophy case. There was a latch-like thing that would unlatch, then the violin head was to be put inside the space where the latch was, then the thin pin-like latch was to be inserted through the violin head (not that this can really be done) through a hole that was supposed to be in the violin head, then the latch could be put back into place after that. Why it was up to me to put the violin away, I donít know, maybe because it was my dream and not someone else's. Putting the violin away to hang like a bat in a cave became extremely stressful really quick. I was playing with the latch and trying to get it work. I first was playing with the latch when it was unlatched, like it was waiting for the violin to be put in place. The latch was two inches long and was thin like that latch that holds the watch band on a watch. The latch also had that little thinner pin inside the main pin that was spring-loaded that needed to be pushed in so it could fit into its slot that would anchor it into place. I played with this pin and had a very hard time trying to get the spring-loaded pin pushed in. The hard part was trying to keep the small pin pushed in when it was time to latch it into place because I couldnít keep my nail on it, or whatever else I used, so the pin would stay inside the main pin when I tried to put it into place. Got it? This was stressful for me. The main pin started to take on the appearance of having very small beads threaded onto it, like a beaded necklace. These small beads were either yellow or dark blue or both in color and at one point, some of them fell off the main pin and onto a surface about three feet below. This surface was a small table top that looked like someone was sitting on, and the beads fell six inches in front of their crotch between their spread legs. This stressed me out even more because without the beads, the latch wouldnít work, so I scrambled to gather them and put them back on the latch. The main pin of the latch had changed again and now had blonde hair, about an inch long and thick, covering it, making it look like some kind of bizarre fly to fish with. I tried threading the beads back onto this hairy pin but some of the beads were caught in the hair and could not slide all the way on. I was therefore forced to try to make the latch-pin work with the beads snarled in the hair like this, and because of the beads getting tangled in the hair, I couldnít get all of them on so some of the beads were missing. The stress level was rising. The next attempt to get the latch to work was when the main pin was split into two flexible pieces of metal, like those wires inside a telephone line. This was not going to work but I kept trying anyway. I kept feeling like I was rushed, as if I only had a certain amount of time to get this violin latched into place, and this added to the stress. This is where Charles came into my dream. I was working on the latch, which had been reduced to two flimsy metal tube-like lines. One side of these two lines attached to a place on one side of the latch assembly, but the other end was unattached and I wanted so desperately to attach them and put them into place. On the side where I had to latch the metal tubes in, there was a button at the top of the cabinet that, when pushed, was supposed to intertwine the flexible metal tubes so they would be easier to put into place, kind of like a putting-back-to-the-way-it-was thing. Well, even though this may have worked, I refused to try it. Charles, however, kept suggesting in his calm, lifeless rational voice that we push the button. He kept trying to push the button, a small quarter-inch slightly-recessed smooth light blue thing. He would reach over with his hand while I fought with the tubes and would try to push the button. I think he even did push the button once or twice but nothing really happened. There may have been a small whir or buzz like there was some type of machinery working inside the top of the cabinet that was related to the pushing of this button, but the metal tubes remained in the same state. At last I was able to feed the two tube wires through the hole through the head of the violin that doesn't really exist and dangle the violin, suspended by the wires, while I tried to connect them to the other end of the latch assembly. That was as much as I can remember of the dream but when I awoke from it, I didnít feel like I really had a dream, rather, I felt like I had just been through some kind of mental torture, the stressed-out feeling of trying to get something done quickly that was impossible to do but I refused to stop trying, even though I would never succeed. Must be what hell's like.

2
I was in the house that I grew up in on the top of South Hill. I was with a group of people, one of them being a musician that looked like that guy that sings the theme song for Monday Night Football, what's his name . . . Hank Williams Jr. or something like that? Iím not sure. I remember him drinking a Diet Coke and he was smoking a cigarette. There was a lot of smoke circling around him and everywhere else because of the cigarette he was smoking. Charles was in the room with us and he said something to the musician about the smoke. I donít know what it was, but it wasn't anything nice. Later I was with this musician guy in the bedroom on the bottom level of the house that Trent and Gerry used to occupy, but then Charles and I got the honor to live in. I was looking towards him as he was against the wall that had that Dracula model sitting on it that I used to blast with pennies from my slingshot when I was junior high school age. The musician was on the left by those big drawers (nine of 'em). To the right of him was set up a drumset and there were some guitar amplifiers, probably a Marshal Stack among them. Apparently he and I were going to be a band together, me being the one who did most of the guitar and vocal stuff. He was standing there next to this equipment, smoking a cigarette, wearing a black cowboy hat and sunglasses. He looked up to me and he said, "You know Max I have a lot of respect for you." This caught me off guard and I told him thank you. He then went on to comment about what Charles had said about him smoking that cigarette he had been earlier. He went on to say how he didnít think it was proper and just where does Charles get off? That's where I started to think and I became quiet then I started talking to this guy about the situation between Charles and I. I told him how Charles and I used to be real good friends and close and then how that has all changed. I was talking, saying this stuff and the musician-man may have commented every now and then as I continued talking. Even when this dream started to fade, I continued talking and may have even said a few words when I was actually awake.

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