Saturday, June 22, 2002

A dream from 16 Jun 02

I had made a trip to the desert to visit my mother in her new apartment. Things being what they are, I really didn't want to be there and don't know why I went. It was very cloudy - like a thunderstorm was brewing.

She mentioned she bought a car. This is highly unusual because my mother doesn't drive. I supposed she was expressing her independence. It was a bright purple/pink VW Beetle - one of the older ones, like a 70's model.

The car wasn't running, however. The palm tree that was planted in the middle of it and sticking up through the sun roof was dying - almost dead, she insisted. She also insisted that the car couldn't be driven unless the palm tree was replaced.

It was a $1500 replacement part and she didn't have the money to buy a new one. I commented something like, "How interesting." (In the past, I would have offered to buy her a new one.) This obviously irritated her.

Finally she came out and asked me to buy her a new palm tree so her hot purple VW Bettle would run. Her reasoning was that I have lots of money now. I told her to go get herself a cover for the sun roof. It would be cheaper. I also explained to her that my money is invested and I can't get to it. She was very angry with me.

She wanted a new palm tree.

I left her there in the desert, palm tree-less.
In my dream I just got back from a deployment. Me and two guys were helicoptered into Germany. One was killed by an assassin during the mission.

In the post-mission briefing, (just off the 'copter and still in battle dress) I was informed that the assassin who killed the other guy was in the U.S. and after us.

I took leave and went to my house in the desert and holed up. It was abandoned. This is the house I grew up in. It was very dark; almost as if the electricity had been turned off.

The house was in the state I remember it best; the garage was still standing, the walls had been torn out, only interior framing remained, and there was no carpeting on the floor. I remember that the bare concrete made the place feel cold and contributed to the darkness.

The assassin was staking out my house in some kind of van or SUV and I knew he was armed. I could see him outside the front fence parked along side the road. I wasn't armed. I didn't expect him to find me there.

I tried dialing the police on our old beige phone, but kept misdialing the number. I had the telephone number to the police scribbled in black ink on a white piece of scrap paper. The number was 414-949-4414. I finally got someone on the line and let them know I was being stalked and asked them to respond.

Nobody did.

I was holed up for a couple of days. I remember the light changing. It was mostly dark - dusk-like for the duration of this dream. The one time I remember bright sunlight - appropriate for the desert - was in the next phase of the dream.

The assassin was working on a clever plan to flush me out of the house. (Apparently, he didn't know I was unarmed.) He pretended to have car trouble and when other drivers stopped to help he had them come to my house to ask to use the phone.

I remember seeing the lady who stopped. She was in a VW Van and was wearing a tie-dye dress mostly of red with a blue and white flowery pattern. She had long, light brown, wavy hair. Definitely a hippie type and helpful to those stranded.

They sent her Spanish-looking boyfriend to my house to ask to use the phone. I felt bad about having to turn him away, but I would not allow myself to be seen and would not unlock my door and let him in my house.

Things were dark again like mid-evening. I knew that staying in my house would be futile because the assassin would eventually get in. So, to escape, I drove my car into his to disable it, but ended up disabling my car too. He was able to catch up to me by simply walking.

I thought, "He's on my turf." I grew up in the desert and I know that, being from Europe, he was on unfamiliar ground. I got out of my car and ran through the field next to my house. He was behind me shooting at me and slipping in the sand. Lousy shot, too.

When he was out of rounds I turned around and slammed him into a very tall cactus. It was a cholla, and the barbs consumed the hand in which he held the gun and half of his face. I know that had to hurt.

It was full night time, now. I could see him in the amber light of the street light on the corner. He was disabled, but still coming at me, so I grabbed a half-full, white bag of garbage, somehow got more cactus in it, and started beating him with the garbage bag.

The points of the cactus, of course, were poking through, and I knew that the added weight of the garbage would enable me to wield it pretty good. Cactus is very light. I gave him a good flogging. My dream ended when he stopped fighting and I felt that he would pursue me no more.