A Human Movement
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
  portions of a recurring dream, the #1 format
I've had the same dream, or bits thereof reapply itself to my mind in various ways throughout my life. I am not sure if this is true, but it seems that way. I also often have dreams in which I acquire the feeling of having had the dream before within the very dream so as to create a sort of infinity effect of mirror into mirror and difficult to prove those i've had before and those dreams in which having had the dream before is part of the dream.

There are two types of dream format for me of late. 1) action + lust 2) research + wonder

The #1 format as taken on the form of a hollywood style spy thriller in many twisting ways. Sort of a Total Recall meets Robert Ludlum. And certain parts interchange and come back wth months in between. In this way the story enlarges itself on both ends.

The scene is a sloping woods put together from memories of the Hudson Valley and the woods around Lake Winnepasaukee. The object is running away from some group of unknown enemies which at first were friend, but whose true identity was revealed after a botched assasination attempt. The botch assasination attempt and the friendly nature are treated much less than the running away which takes on a more detailed form on each recurrance. It is usually mayhem, running or riding a bike or car until either break down from the desperate crashing into trees uncontrollabley down the hill with the risk of being fired at.

The scenery usually changes. Last night there was a group of young boys, a high school archery team whose final shooter happened to turn his arrow into the midsection of another right at the moment I pass by, thus singifying some kind of end to inoncence. Scenes of this type often occur during the running away state of format #1, as I happen to see events right at the moment they turn ugly. But I don't dwell I keep running.

Shots are fired, splinter shatters of the trees around me, my clothes are eventually run off as I realize that it much better to hide from the danger of the enemy by achieving a natural state. As the cars crash, the bike breaks and my clothes tear and I arrive as a place of safety under the cover of some kind of mud pool. Thinking of the fact that there might be bugs in the mud, I realize I have had this dream before and shouldn't worry about it.

Along with safety come the realization that I have back up. Last night's back up was a team of cammo men laying down with guns pointed through cracks in what I think was a bleacher. As those soldiers take over and charge I find myself in safety of a legitamate army type situation where there is a network of bivouac camps, latrines, men on phones and supplies being arranged. I am covered in mud and have to find an officer of some sort to share my recon intelligence with. Somehow convey the facts of the botched assasination attempt of which I know nothing.

It gets foggy from here because in the past few recurrances of this format, some time around now is a dream sequence back to another time. Perhaps to help me try to figure out who I am (in the dream.) The special information representatives are not nice and in the past have told me to put on glasses that have a mind jarring effect.
Last night I took the glasses with the knowledge that they were mind altering and as soon as the special information operators realized, (had they realized?) that I knew the glasses were phony they told me off and left me in the mud.

Being left in the mud, I am picked up by a group of non-mission related persons. Normal people walking through the woods which has not yet changed into suburban surroundings it will be in the next moments of the dream. There are women, some attractive and usually the one to which I am attracted, talks to me. Last night was strange because there was a woman who I had talked to before in past recurrances and she said to me, that she had wanted to return but didn't know how. I remember her explaining to me how long she had tried to get in touch with me. I replied telling her that my e-mail address had changed, but that she should have just googled me. Oh 2006. The thing about this woman is that she was remarkabley similar to another woman who had already recurred, and worse both were present in the civilian group who picked me up after the special information ops dissappear and the fighting in the woods has receded into memory.

The two recurring women's personalities are now on display and there is always the risk that they will tire of me and go off to talk with another civilian male who is part of our train walking through suburban surrounding of varying class as we talk about their personalities and I try to decide which one I think is more trustworthy.
The one who had told me that she had wanted to find me but couldn't was very mad, and implied that since I was so difficult to find she was moving on. That she even had a person to move on with, who turned out to be some kind of Cockney footballer with facial hair. I was saddened, but realized that the other women was recurring as well and I still had some okay chances. The second one is smaller, has a pointier nose and is a writer, the ideal combination of homely, nervous and yet completely attractive (like the ugly girl who turns pretty in movies by getting contacts and a hair cut.) She was not as frustrated by my absence, and was quickly laughing at things I said in such a way as to suggest that she was happy to have my point of view available to her. I can't remember what I said exactly, but we did walk past a lake house that was for sale for 88 million dollars. The finer points of these women are better left unsaid in this forum. Also this part of the recurring dream is quite new, I have never left the fighting scene in such a friendly way. In the past I had put on the glasses of the special information officers and have gone back into the fighting equipped with special weapons and specific missions. But last night I got away and was walking peacefully away talking about society and social order with an impressionable women who enjoyed my perspective on things.

But this recurs, as that is that. Until next time.
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