Category: Dreams

I am doing some urban spelunking with three friends of mine. We go to several run down houses and walk around in them in the dark. We use our flashlights to look at some interesting things. One of the four of us is the main tour guide. He shows us things in the buildings and speaks about them like he was on a TV show.

In the last house, we go up to the second floor to look at things. As we climb down a ladder to leave the building, I see another person climbing down another ladder. I catch him out of the corner of my light. On the lower level we have to walk through long sheets of plastic to get to our car. Me and a woman who I am with get into the back seat, and the tour guide comes around on the shot gun side of the car. He looks at the man who is at the wheel and asks, “Who’s that person in the drivers seat?”

Before we can react, the stranger starts the car and quickly drives off.  I frantically think of many things at once: where’s the person that was with us, should I jump out of the car without the woman, should I attack the driver, who is the driver?

Laura and I exit a building (or the BART station) near the Ferry Building just in time to see a spectacular sunset-red mushroom cloud forming eastward across the urban horizon. We stand with others in disbelief for a few moments as the cloud grows taller into the symbolic cloud that we where taught to fear during the Cold War. This is indeed a nuclear explosion.

Nothing works due to relying on electricity, and we didn’t ride our bikes for some reason. We turn around to head to the Mission and see another explosion rising southward beyond the City. “San Francisco is next!” I cry as we run through the City to get home. I fumble my camera out of its bag to hopefully record our last moments but it doesn’t work.

On the way home, we approach a gate to the next part of the City. Guards/police in strange uniforms aren’t allowing anyone through.

“I need to get to 25th Street,” I tell them and they let me through. A tall guard stops me and hassles me for ID with the address I mentioned. I open up my wallet to show him and he sees a 1980s collectible item that I stuck in there. “Hey, look at this!” he says to another guard, waving him over to look. “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid.”

…

Time has passed and San Francisco still stands. I’m leaving the City alone on a bicycle weighted down with panniers while pulling a trailer with supplies. I’m most likely in the Arizona dessert, riding up a small incline and thinking to myself that the hill wasn’t that bad. I also think of what people where telling me before I left: “You’ll die out there.” “What happens if you run out of food?” “Somebody will kill you.”

Out with other people on bikes, I pass a police car that has the other lane blocked off. I get into a good riding groove and think about my family back East.

I’m at a concert and don’t have a good seat, so I cut out of the amphitheater to head to the other side. I get turned around on a school campus, wander by some stencil graffiti on a bike trail, and then get directions from strangers. The route sends me to a rustic trail in the woods that winds up at a creek in a deep ravine. As I cross it on a shaky fallen tree, I remember that I’m dreaming and then port myself back to the concert.

Continue reading “May 15 Dream”

I work in a Soviet Department of Organic Produce for a dream-like Totalitarian Russian Regime. Paranoia follows me as a fact of life, and I find myself at a public execution somewhat shaken by how it is happening.

The shooters, army regulars, stand far away from the people who are going to get executed. A crowd, which looks planted by the Party, stands around in odd configurations, most likely to look good for the camera shots.
Continue reading “May 14, KGB Dream; Other Fragments”

Commander Riker has had a recent bad experience that left him injured and disfigured. Instead of being on the Enterprise, he has been reassigned by Starfleet to test new flying equipment. I have been assigned to assist him. Riker’s current test vehicle is a hovercraft that will be used for mine shafts. It glows yellow-green, is circular and is currently being tested in a deep rock crevasse.

The test vehicle needs a counterweight apparatus, so I am assigned to be on that part of the rig. When Riker goes up with the machine, I go down. When he goes down, I go up. During testing, I notice two men who are on the side of the crevasse. They attach something to the cable that connects my rig with the test rig. Then, one of the men slides down to my area. He stops above me, then reaches down with his hands.

“Take my hands if you want to live!”
Continue reading “Sun. AM Dream: Long Fall Into Darkness”

Slept on a futon in a finished basement of a PrioritiesNH volunteer last night. The heat ran all night making for light sleep, so I had a vivid, morning dream:

A child stalks the inhabitants of a run-down building. He kills the first person with a knife and then the second with a razor. A cop shows up to check things out and the child captures him, ties him up, and takes his gun.

I become the child’s next victim when he stalks me and shoots me in the head. I fall to the floor as the cop runs in from another room, grabs the gun and kills the child. My vision fades as a bang sounds and the child falls to the floor.

I come to and realize that I’m still alive. I speak with someone and then see two doctors approach me with a steel instrument. They poke around my head, and I tell them I don’t care what I look like. Just fix my head.

I watch a cartoon on TV. In that cartoon, the character takes peyote and then walks through this trippy animated world of black and white and technicolor dripping reality. So I decide to take my own peyote trip, and walk through my own black and white and technicolor reality. The thought keeps coming up, “I need to speak to my roomie when I get back. I should leave a note on her bed.”

Continue reading “New York Style (Dream)”

I arrive in Greece for a much-needed vacation and go straight to an art gallery that I’ve visited in a previous dream. The gallery is part of a maze of stalls (souks) and appears to be closing. The workers don’t greet me as well as I expected, but I shop anyway. I find a large-format ‘zine about a recent Sub-Genius zombie peace action in San Francisco. The ‘zine even has a fold-out poster drawn by Paul Mavrides.

I go up to the counter to buy the magazine, but they’ve closed. The workers pass me, headed to the back of the gallery. I just noticed a baked apple dessert on a table back there so wonder if that’s what they’re interested in.

Continue reading “Dream of a Grecian Demon”

Someone sets people up to die or get arrested, so my father snoops around to try to figure out who it is. Since I am visiting, my father insists that I tag along. This makes me feel like a little boy again. As the snooping progresses, the situation becomes more serious, and Dad discovers that it is a close friend who is getting people in trouble. At last he figures out that Dan C. is responsible.

Continue reading “Dream in the Old Mortuary”

Streets teem with violence as protesters clash with police. The country is in full revolt against the government and our cluster has worked out an efficient force of disobedience. Large, full-back-sized men rush the police line as scrawny men pull up pavement stones with small metal pry bars.

I crouch down close to the street, pulling up stones with my tool. I quickly hand the stones to the large men who hurl them at the police. The hurlers seem invincible to the concussion grenades, tear gass, and rubber bullets. All the pullers jump around, dodging the police ordnance, and keep pulling up ammo for the hurlers. I feel exhausted but am using the adrenaline to keep fighting.

Continue reading “Late Dec. Dream Fragments”