I wrote this immediately after having the dream, with minor edits to make it a story because I love surrealism. Im not sure whether it was lucid or not.. I'd say yes but I might want to try induction for comparison. (My dream from jan 10-11 1998) (I thought It was a good story) I was in the rainy cafeteria of St. Patrick’s school, standing at the window. I opened the upper one, leaned the top out, and felt the rain. After a while I let it back in, knowing what the rain can do to window putty. I looked around and saw one little boy waiting. I sat down near him, he told me as a truck came into the parking lot, my father came home and just started hitting my mom. I said that makes me want to cry too. The truck that came in the parking lot left again leaving a wake in the giant puddles. I said is that your father’s car? he said no.. The car came into the parking lot, swooshed around and left again. My mother entered and set down on the table a pummelo grapefruit, (big) some paper towels, and glasses of milk. She then gave us each a quince. These were bigger than the quince we grow, they were like an apple. I asked her if they tasted like the ones we grow, she said mostly they were more mellow. I bit in and I was no longer there. I was sitting in the dirt of my driveway under the tree that used to be the basketball hoop, playing in the dirt with a kudos bar, and a clothes hanger. I was making designs. My mother and I got to talking, about all the bones I had broken. The boy sat there quietly. She said that I had broken my hand at camp and they said not to do anything with it for a while, yet I played darts. She also said I broke my hand again, and my ribs too. I didn’t remember any of this. I walked across the dry sunny St. pats parking lot to the edge of a dumping site, nothing big like nuclear waste, just leaves. It was a steep slope that was very sandy and loose. As I got near the edge she said, and once you slipped over that hill and broke your hands, and I started to slip. I grabbed three sticks, two of them were a matched pair of wooden skis that Joe Dimaggio had made, the third a white piece of fence. I pushed my way up the dirt slope with the skis like they were ski poles and I was cross country skiing up the mountain. I went back over to my mother in the dirt and found t hat my aunt had taken my spot. She was talking about the team that only has one team, they wear white... I said the baseball team. She said yes that’s it, she had met a boy from the team who had just graduated and he said to her some night "a perdue isn’t as good as a royal perdue" and grinned. She agreed.( Something like that). She proceeded to take my hidden kudos and hanger and move them around in the dirt making a pyramid looking shape. I reached over the shape and grabbed the hanger and bar, and found another bar which I also grabbed. I got up and walked over to a certain rock. Near the rock was a lot of natural junk, like branches. This is where stuff gets plowed. MY dad and some other people were working on clearing it out. Nearby was an old foundation of stones, but where they were working , they soon uncovered a concrete foundation, about the same size. It was full of pipes, trees, muck, and it had a steel outhouse in the corner. We began to remove all these things, and it was decided that the stuff should all eventually go out to the hill right where our septic system is.(as location, not purpose) people began to cart off pipes and things. A lot of it was unidentifiable shmmooo.. As the pipes were moved, the outhouse was carried off, and revealed in the corner a lot of bars that had the spirally screw texture like bolts, and indeed there were big hex nuts at the ends. I held some up and said we can rebuild this in a geodesic dome. They said ha aha.. geodesic dome? I said yeah, like made of multiple panels that are polygonal and you end up with a structurally strong dome. They said hm.. Nah. So the long bolts went out with the trash too. They piled up next to our woodshed. I went to go bring the piles over, and as I rounded the woodshed other things started happening. I could see Japanese people everywhere else, bringing other parts of trash over to the septic area. The area I should say Is like a small valley, ideally lined with grass but if you looked right now there would be briars aplenty. Anyway , I picked up a small 2’ square gas griddle about five feet tall, and carried it over. After that, I looked around some more at all the business, and then someone shouted a phrase like ‘another flyin’ pan!’ and a youngish woman, id say 20-30 would race around, pick up an identicle griddle and carry it over into the little valley and then disappear. Not long after, the same person would say ‘another flyin’pan!’ and she would race around and bring it over. One time I heard ‘another flyin’ pan!’ and I knew she wasn’t around. I raced over grabbed the thing and headed into the valley. The boxy part of it moved around and obstructed my sight. I raced around the corner and was somewhere else. We were all Japanese now, and huddled in the foundation that we had been clearing out. It was going to be our home. Around the woodshed was a giant chasm, and at the bottom a raging river. Near the edge was a shack with red signs, and an extension bridge which the Chinese controlled. We went into our home for a while, got grandma settled and then some of us decided to find out what was on the other side. We snuck over on bikes, rode over the bridge while it was extended, and went onto the other side. The guards came out, and a few followed us. The path on the other side split, the left side said something , the right side said love. I think the left said BRIGHT. The paths were like miniature green valleys, like a separated highway, but separated only by a little dip of grass, and instead of highways were like gently steamrolled meadows. The BRIGHT people were furiously pedaling their bikes and were getting far. Suddenly trucks carrying tens of police cars, sirens aglow, raced up from behind. One man on a bike thought he could help the people by cutting them off and stopping them from breaking the law any further. Around that time the girl I loved and I came upon a small shack, and the sign again said love. The man who tried to cut off the bikers tumbled and fell into the grass I saw, and nearby were two women one wearing lavender the other wearing light fuschia. she had a daisy on her ear and glasses. they were under the shack in a grassy depression. The girl and I rushed into the house. There were 3 pieces of furniture, and the walls looked like corrugated cardboard. I said What wall coverings!! And grabbed it and ripped. Most of it came off. I ripped again and the ceiling came away, revealing an elephant sword strapped to the ceiling. At the point was dried blood , and one little dangling crusty purple drop. I grabbed the sword, and said I love you to the girl, she must love me, our situation requires it. We found the house of love, and everyone else was in a desperate situation .I had a sword, She was Japanese. I began to cut away the section of the chair/couch it had a design on it. She grabbed me and said Look this isn’t really love I don’t love you right now I said you must! I began cutting again and soon I had a large piece of canvas with the embroidered design. There was a setting sun over a flatland of purple and brown and an orange with blue intertwining design around the edges. I Said now we must do something else. She said, I cannot love you yet, what will you do with the sword. I pointed it at her belly and said what do you mean? She said all the trucks are not gone by we can not run out toward bright. The love path continues but we can not run for it yet. I gave her the sword, she held it downward, and I began to wrap the covering around it. They both became tiny so that I manipulated the cloth only with my fingers and wrapped it around the blade. The sun lined up each time, 3 times. I said to her , look how the sun lines up. She said I cannot see that on my side.. So I loosened the wrap a little and she took the sword. I kissed her and I ran out. I was wearing a red windsuit with white accents. I was from Kansas. The people who all went BRIGHT were coming back from BRIGHT. One woman said I’m a teacher now and how will I find the coffee machine in a school with 921 square feet? Another said now I work in a cement glue factory. I was glad that I didn’t go to BRIGHT. We came back to the extension bridge and it was dark and stormy. The river was brown with SEDIMENT. The bridge was no longer a bridge but 4 red and white planks that would extend. No road. They wouldn’t risk another escape. The women called for the guards to extend the bridge so they might get home and they laughed. They told me I would never get home. Nevertheless the bridge extended and I was out in the middle before they could retract it. I made it home, and ran into the house which was only a foundation before. It had a dirt floor an up on the wall high up were 6 or so pictures. They were fantastically colored, looking like vibrant silk on black velvet. As she spoke of them, they animated and showed what was happening. My grandma sat in a chair and said I made these pictures of you. That one is a picture of your brown face, made with ginger. You look sad. The next one is you with a jasmine blade in your mouth beginning to cut the fabric with the designs on it. Then next one is your brain being sucked up by peace. The last one was you running home. You saw the people who were now slaves. You imagined the faraway smoky city that the BRIGHT path leads to. You found the house of love but you had to leave.
