March, 20121 4 12 27 31
3/1/12 - Title: "From Having to Leave to Having Enough"
Scene one - I'm doing my activities (hygiene, etc.) at night. A young man or boy is impatient with me, not understanding it takes me longer to do things than he. He is either my son or in relation to me similar to that. I have to go away to a dangerous place. I leave my dog, Puff, in his care. He just lets her run around in the harem-scarem neighborhood, and does not even keep her out of the street. I'll try again before I leave to teach him to look after her better, but am sad, expecting he'll not do it well, and this may be the last I see her.
Scene two - I must leave, walking away with only the clothes on my back. I am adult but much younger, maybe in my twenties or thirties. Things are chaotic. I must cross some railroad tracks just as a large train is coming down it toward me. I see that it is moving slowly, though, only a little faster than my walking speed. A few feet in front of it, I slip quickly across.
Scene three - I come upon a bad situation, some people with guns are pointing them at townspeople. It looks like they may execute them at any moment. I walk on by, as if uninterested, then, out of their view, organize a small, impromptu resistance force. Just before we can attack, we hear the pop, pop, pop of the guns and know some of the townspeople are dead. Some, though, are still alive, we see. We attack. It is a close thing, but my small force kills the men with guns. Something else. It is about stands of cornstalks, maybe as places to hide till we have attacked, or maybe places to hide afterward.
Scene four - I am again in a difficult situation, though there has been improvement. All of us here in the town are living very close to poverty. Home from work, though, I am living and sleeping with two women. It is pleasant and also the easiest way for all three of us to get by. With meager resources, we can all still have enough.
3/4/12 - Title: "The Fate of Those Left Out"
Scene one - I am alone but a survivor. Odds were against me, yet I have made it this far. I am on a bit of dark soil or land next to a vast body of water. Night is falling. Things have evolved rapidly here without me while I've been away. I'm not part of the new biology. I am alive, savoring the moment.
Scene two - I've found a way toward where there are other people, a little kayak-like boat. Everything is a little different, for the new life is adapted, but I am not, due to being away. Water monsters, that maybe used to be little fish, keep attacking my boat or leaping out of the water at me, mouths full of large teeth. The current is getting faster, even on open water, hurtling me eastward toward the other people. I forgot to get any paddles handy and cannot control where my boat is going or how fast.
Scene three - I made it to where there are other people. They seem normal and friendly, but are evolved for the new and cannot help me. They automatically know things I at first do not, like, in a kitchen, the floors are now covered by small lakes with shark-like things that leap out at me if I'm not far enough up on the counters or walls. Also, instead of ants in the kitchen debris or garbage, now there are tiny little swim trails of ant-size sharks, yet still with shark-like voracious aggression and appetites. Thinking I was safe, now as I look down I see 2-3 of these shark swim trails moving on me, each with hundreds of the tiny sharks. They've not begun to devour, but could start any second now. Once commenced, like electric saws their thousands of teeth will cut me up in an instant.
3/12/12 - Title: "Blank Checks"
Warren Buffett is my mentor. We are taking a walk together, and he asks me about my application for scholarships or loans to pay for attending a certain business school. I admit that I had been turned down. From (the left side of) his sport coat, he takes out a set of checks. There are about ten of them, all on one sheet or card. It appears they are perforated, so each can be torn lose from the others. They have all been signed by him, but the rest of each check has yet to be filled in. He hands this card to me. I understand he expects me to use the checks to cover whatever expenses I have in completing business school. I am overwhelmed and hug him. He seems pleased with my reaction but a little awkward at the extra emotion.
3/27/12 - Title: "Almost a Nasty Accident"
Fran is driving a big van or suburban. She is going rather recklessly, too fast. I'm toward the back (on the right) of this huge, nearly empty vehicle (that could accommodate maybe ten or twelve people). There are also a couple kids, a boy and a girl (elementary school age), riding in here too, seated closer to the middle. I think our dog, Puff, is in here as well.
Fran makes a turn to the left, getting us onto an access road (though oddly the direction of travel is opposite that of the nearest lanes on the interstate, so it would not be possible to safely merge onto them from here), but in doing so does not cut her speed enough and panics as she is sure we will hit the guardrail that is between the access road and the interstate. "Oh, no!" she yells, but we miss hitting it by just a few inches, completing the turn with high excitement, then relief. "That was close!" I say.
3/31/12 - Title: "Super-consciousness or Sleep?"
Scene One - I am mostly alone on a challenging journey in an unfamiliar place, at dusk. It is scary being here, especially by myself. The landscape is hilly. The path is often narrow and not easy. There are ravines, places where I can fall, and also upward, harder paths. I want to be with others and maybe back where it is more comfortable.
Scene Two - There are many others, men and women. Special trainers are like drill sergeants. We are being prepared for advanced levels of responsibility and accomplishment on team ventures. These ventures are indescribably complex, like those of the hero in modern "mission impossible" movies. I must be at a high state of inner and outer advancement and intelligence to do them, yet there is coercion. One does not take on this level of challenge voluntarily. It is exciting yet unnerving.
Scene Three - I am one of three students. I am the most reluctant one here. We three at night lie next to each other on the same uncomfortable, hard, flat, raised, metal gurney or hospital "bed." I am the one on the right. I want to leave, am here against my will. The others try to convince me to stay. Our training ventures are amazingly complex and involve almost sensory overload. One must operate on a brilliant, knife-edge level to be here. There are super trainers here, at least one for each team. They know ways of stimulating or manipulating our minds and bodies to induce pain or fear, even anger, in high doses, then use these to enhance our awareness and training. There is an almost drug-induced level of super-consciousness here, and all with vivid images, stark situations, multi-colors, suspense, excitement, generally mild unpleasantness but the threat of much more pain, etc. Against my will, not here of my own choosing, I am becoming better and better, handling greater challenges, doing amazing things along with the other two in my team.
Scene Four - I am again on the metal gurney bed with two other men. I object to the uses of pain, threat, and coercion the trainers employ to get us to peak levels of enhanced mental and physical conditioning. I say again I want to not be part of this. I say I could train myself, that I don't have to have all the pain and suspense to stay at my tip-top personal brilliant, well muscled, and fast reflexes best. My two gurney mates are skeptical. My trainer kind of scoffs at me. He grabs one of my feet and in an instant inflicts such intense pain, just by pressing the bottom of my foot a certain way, I am in another realm, a personal pain hell, itself intense, unfamiliar, yet oddly beautiful, multi-colored, with vivid blues and oranges, reminding of many closely grouped stinging, and possibly deadly, jellyfish seen beneath the surface of the sea. "You could do this to yourself and so stay in almost perfect shape?" he asks.
I say unconvincingly that I could have a regular exercise program and keep my muscles in good condition. I don't want to be in this brilliant place, even with others, if I must be forced and have all the fear and pain. The others object that I'm making a mistake, but I insist (and wake up, surprised, relieved, yet also disappointed that it was all a dream).