I remember a couple of dreams, although they’re quite disjointed. The first I only remember bits of. It seemed I was in some kind of expedition, and our group was in some sort of strange land that had features of moutains and desert but also had pockets of water and places with lots of vegetation. I don’t remember very well what was happening there, but I remember at some point needing to go into the water. Or maybe not even go into it, but there was something about the water, which seemed to be in a pool under a large cliff. I don’t remember much more than that. My next dream was about training for a race. T and I had signed up and we had to do a three mile run to get started. We started out running together, and we were both worried that we hadn’t prepared well enough. I wasn’t too worried about my own performance because I like running. But I was worried about T because she hates to run. The course was a strange mixture of outdoor environments–wooded areas, caves, fields. And there were parts of it indoors as well. Something happened where T and I were separated–I don’t know if I fell or if she was just running faster than me, but she got ahead. I completely lost sight of her. In the end, she finished well before me. I have decided to take this as an indication it’s time to start running again, even though it’s 2 degrees out. That’s why they make the good old YMCA, right?
My next dream started with the Olympics. T was going to be competing for a medal in tennis. We had living quarters set up in a big warehouse along with a bunch of other people, who I guess were also olympians or related to olympians. Our area was quite small and had only three walls. Across from our space was a large storage area that was filled with broken down boxes. There was some feeling among everyone there that these boxes were prohibited. At one point a stack fell down and I discussed the possiblitly of getting in trouble for having them with one of my neighbors, who was on the other side of the boxes, so I couldn’t see her very well.
T said she had to go catch the bus to the stadium and left with her tennis racket. I wished her luck. It seemed perfectly natural in the dream that I wouldn’t go to watch her play, but upon waking that seems ridiculous. When she came back she was in tears because someone had told her to get on the wrong bus and she’d missed her chance to play Serena Williams and get a gold medal. I felt SO horrible for her. In dreams, sometimes it seems like emotion can become so strong, and this was a case where I felt like I was drowning in sorrow for her. She also had a clear plastic bag with four or five small red and blue tennis balls. These were tennis balls she’d ordered to put on the legs of her kids’ desks at schools so they could rearrange their desks without making a lot of noise. She was also sad because she realized the balls were too small for what she wanted to use them for. I made us a huge dish of vanilla ice cream with cut up ice cream sandwiches in it, which cheered her up a bit.
Then the dream shifted and T was some sort of magickal being who could fly and dish out justice. We were looking for a terrorist of some kind, and she thought she’d found him. He was in a small building sitting at a desk. She had me open the front door, which I thought I was doing so that she could get a better look. I knew the guy at the desk wasn’t the guy we were looking for. As soon as I opened the door, fire flooded the room and burnt the guy up. I realized that he was Spider Jerusalem and told T that she’d killed a journalist. She felt horrible about it. We went from there to a house which was supposed to be my mom’s house but looked nothing like it. It was apparent my step-brother was lurking around somewhere, but we hadn’t seen him. There was mention of a poodle, but I don’t know who mentioned the poodle. T and I migrated through rooms in the house and ended up in the basement sitting on the bottom of a set of bunk beds. We were talking quietly when my step-brother (a child molester and later on in life a rapist at least once) came out of a room we hadn’t seen the door to. The room he’d come out of was bright. Inside was a bed with four blond-haired little boys sitting on it. Two were playing video games and the other’s were watching. My step-brother asked if we’d seen his poodle, and we said we hadn’t. Then he pulled a poodle down of the top bunk and turned to go back into the other room. He said he was going to fuck the poodle. After he closed the door I went upstairs (T was gone) and tried to figure out what to do. I couldn’t think of a reason he’d have all those little boys in there–and it seemed like there was another adult in the bed with him–a naked man, and I couldn’t imagine they were doing anything else than fucking those little kids. I found the mother of one of my friends in elementary school and told her what I’d seen. I said I wanted to call the police but wasn’t sure there was enough evidence to get him arrested. We asked her little son if he’d ever seen anything suspcious and he went to the calendar and started writing the names of all the boys my step-brother had molested on the dates it had happened. I left to call the police, and as I was leaving the mother said, “You didn’t ask him if it happend to him,” referring to her son. I said that I didn’t think it was my place. She knelt down next to her son and started to ask him if my step brother had ever raped him. I got these horrible shivers over my whole body and woke up.
