dreams: Sunday, January 21, 2001

Margaret is my friend

I'm lying in a bed, on top of the covers, with Margaret Olsen. We're talking. Margaret is giving me support for the dilemmas and woes in my life. It feels good to be with her.

I'm in Cantwell's (but it's much different inside -- no longer a grocery store). I'm looking for a shower. There are little bathroom stalls. Then I'm on the phone talking to someone about a group of people I know. They're all visiting Jordan Gans-Morse. I'm listing the names that come to mind (telling the other person on the other end of the phone): Troy Henri, Josh Jeska, etc.

Then I'm up on a roof in a city, hiding out from danger with a group of people. Madhu is here too.

the communal bed, Santo Daime, and my picture book

It's nighttime, and I'm trying to find a place to sleep. I get into a big bed. There is a small group of others who also need a bed, so we're all going to sleep here together. They are from Sevenoaks. There is a moment when we are standing around trying to figure out who should lie down where in the bed. Then we all just get in. Donovan is on the far right, up against the wall. He is wearing a full suit, all black, with a white shirt and dark tie and shoes. Dee is next to him; she is quiet and passive. I'm next to her, in the very middle. There are several others on my other side. I'm trying to get comfortBLE, but I'm having a hard time. I feel irked at Dee and Donovan, and I push them away from me to squish them against the wall.

There are lots of hands under me and around me. I look down at them, hoping to find Donovan's hands (wondering if his are actually wrapped around Dee), but I see no masculine hands. They're all small, looking like women's and children's hands.

A friend is next to me, and he's a young boy (Django?). Phoebe is on the other side of him. I sit up and look over to see who is on the end of the bed (opposite side of Donovan). I see Susan Thesenga lying there, facing inwards. She's huddled up tight, not in contact with anyone. She has no blanket over her. She's wearing her cowboy boots. There is a big gap between her back and the edge of the bed, and I see that it's because she doesn't want to fall off. I lie back down. I hear Susan whisper to Phoebe that before bed she likes to tell secrets. She asks Phoebe to tell her a secret.

Then people start walking through the room. I see that we're in a registration area. It bothers me that this room will be so busy. Then my bedmates get up. It turns out that we're just here for a short period, since things are now going on that we want to be awake for (even though it's late at night). That's why Donovan didn't change out of his suit. I note how I was at the crack of the two big pillows on either side of me; other people got pillows, but my head wasn't very supported.

Ashland High School graduates from my year are streaming into the room. It looks like a class reunion. People keep coming up to the bed. I'm sitting up. Guys that I never talked to are approaching (jocks who took different classes, in completely different social groups). I point them over to a nearby table. Several women are there with papers to help people find their own rooms. (It's a mix of Sevenoaks and a high school.) I see that the Red Cross is here to get blood donations, which some people are doing.

I get up and walk ovre to the activities. There is a young woman I see from the back. She turns around. It's Amber Fyfe-Johnson. We hug. I notice that her turtleneck has an embroidered emblem of the sun, moon and stars. It catches my attention because it reminds me of Santo Daime. I look closer and see that some words are also on the shirt neck, right next to the stars. It's a little phrase in a light color. One word is Daime, which immediately confirms my guess. I point it out, and she nods, saying she has tried it. It gets me excited.

A male friend comes up and wraps his arm around me. I look and see it is John Swift. He is our age now, a friend from high school times. He looks young (yet he still has silver grey hair), and he's my height. He's wearing a red shirt, and now my arm is wrapped around him too, keeping him pressed against my right side. I know he's in the D., so I swing him around to look at Amber's shirt. I ask Amber if she's a fardada (part of me doubting it). She says yes.

I see that her shirt has a big flap/second layer that is folded down, covering the upper chest of her shirt. I ask what's underneath. She pulls it up. There are more symbols and writing on it. There is a list of things (on red fabric), each with a star next to it. John Swift points out that some important items are missing from the list (or some are not correct?) -- something is wrong with it. It lessens her believability as a true fardada. When she pulls up the flap, she wraps it around her head like a shawl. It's now brown. She looks like a sweet old woman, bringing up compassion in me. I say superficial nice things that don't feel totally real or from my heart (like "how nice").

Then I go over and see an unlit part of the room (behind the table area); there is a big sound system there. It's a long stretch of keyboard and electrical sound equipment. As I walk over there, I have a moment of lucidity, realizing this is a dream and I can do whatever I want.

I walk back over to the counter, looking on top to try to find my name on a list, because I want to know my assigned room. I see a colorful card/book that has my name on it in really big lettering. The cover is made out of construction paper. At first it looks like an apple that has a heart in it. Then, when I pick it up, I realize it's actually a butterfuly with a heart in it. My name is on it too. It gives a description of me and my abilities, which I read with total curiosity. [I only remember one thing.] One part says, "Thoughts: connecting with past lives."

I open it up to read the book. It's a children's book all for me and/or about me. The beginning is about something getting hurt a lot. It has pictures of trees getting chopped. I see that it's somehow about self-inflicted pain.

Then it's about a girl alone on an island out in the middle of the ocean. Everything is a pretty light blue color. I see that the illustrations are done by Dinah Shore, with her unique watercolor style. I can see the sparkly water reflected onto the side of a boat next to the tiny island. The reflection is shimmering back and forth. The story tells of how the girl gets regular messages. She wades out into the water and picks up a glass bottle with a message inside. The story says she is only supposed to read each message once.

I turn the page and see lots of text (but no more pictures). I'm reading it as fast as I can. I feel like I should read it all, but I like the pictures best. Then I get tired of the text and flip ahead to find the next pictures.

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