DREAM Later 29 February 2012

March 2, 2012


[hardly] I’m meeting with [having] my housemate and my ex-husband and [either] others, trying to figure out a way to “get around” [cake]… We are in a city that is only vaguely familiar… I have just recently moved there.  It seems we are invaded by “aliens”, or dark forces of some kind…. Mis-led beings. They are very mistaken in their ways and beliefs, and they believe their ways of seeing things are the only ways that are correct. So they spend a lot of time corrupting and coercing the thoughts of others…

Their philosophy has also infiltrated the government, education system, religions, etc. There’s really no facet of the “establishment” that is not affected by their manipulative, controlling influence.

This small group of us have somehow managed to capture one of the leaders, or most powerful influential figures, of this group. I was involved in his capture, but my companions & others took him back to the house where my housemate, her boyfriend, and my son and I live.

Meanwhile, my son and I leave and go to another house where we also live. I’m sorting through some old packages, as if I’m preparing to move house or go on a trip, or make more room. In particular, I’ve spread out a lot of jewelry & garments on my bed, many of which I had forgotten about.

The jewelry is mostly earrings and necklaces, and they range in quality from fine, ornately-crafted 24K gold, set with radiant gems, to inexpensive baubles made of plastic. Similarly with the garments: everything from simple t-shirts to elaborately embroidered tunics.

Looking at them brings back many memories, of times and lifetimes long-forgotten. My son is doing the same in his room, with his toys and video games. We are both enjoying ourselves very much.

Suddenly, my housemate comes into the room, very distraught. She tells me I need to come with her right away, because something terrible has happened.

My son stays in the house, and I go outside with my friend. She leads me to a pickup truck. Its bed is filled to overflowing with tolls and bags and broken machinery and luggage, as if things had been tossed there quickly.

She drives us back to the first house, and tells me that my ex-husband has murdered our prisoner in a fit of rage.

We go inside, and my ex and the prisoner are gone. I can see in my mind’s eye what has happened, that he was killed in the bathroom. But the only evidence is a blood-stain on the gray-flowered curtain in the bathroom doorway. There is no sign of my ex or the man, but all of the rooms are in a shambles. We know that somehow, the prisoner’s associates will certainly know what happened, and will soon be looking for us.

I’m very upset, because I had no intention or idea of the prisoner dying. It’s tragic and brutal, and also complicates many situations. Frightened, my housemate and I leave on foot, to hide somewhere while we try to decide what to do next.

I’m trying to think of all the ramifications of the murder: If I run, I’ll ever see my son again. If I stay, I’ll certainly go to jail or be executed (this fellow was an important figure), which will still leave my son without many of the things he still wants and needs from me…. I do not want to let him down.

I’m angry with my ex for having been so cruel and selfish and impulsive. Although an interior part of me wants him to get caught, I realize that our son will suffer if that happens, too. It’s a no-win situation.

My housemate and I return to the house where the murder took place. I walk past the loaded-up pickup truck, envisioning a dark future.

As I approach the stoop, a light-bronze and chrome colored sports car convertible speeds past gently, running on the leafy shoulder of the road. It’s winter, brown leaves and bare trees…

The car turns right and disappears along a small road through the trees. As I watch it, I ask myself if the driver is my ex… But then an image of the same young man appears again at the intersection. This time instead of driving a sports car, he’s in jeans and a white shirt, walking his dog which looks a lot like Rudy. I marvel for a moment at the apparition.

I go inside the first house, and realize my friend’s boyfriend has come home. They’re having a beer and chatting. He’s completely oblivious to the drama that’s transpired, and she’s trying to act normally and light-hearted. I decide that a beer sounds good, so I ask if I may have one, and look in the fridge. The fridge is full of imported products… I don’t recognize any beers. I find bottled water, then finally some small [younger]bottles of Italian beer that are shrink-wrapped into pairs. And they are about the size and shape of pears… I don’t really want two, but they are small… I take a pair, and go to join my friends, wondering how the story will go, as I awaken.



One Response to “DREAM Later 29 February 2012”

  1. […] (from Leslee’s Ghost Radar; This is the transmission that cam while I was having this dream) […]

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