The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual factsDream of: 10 December 1973 "Bus Station"
I arrived at the Greyhound bus station in Portsmouth on a greyhound bus which parked in the station for a 15 minute stop. As I disembarked I noticed I was the only passenger stopping here. As I walked from the bus to the door of the station, I thought how lonely the town seemed. Since no one was around, I was sure someone could board the bus without being seen and ride it without having a ticket.
I walked inside the bus station and started watching a television. A race was being shown in which the people were only about 10 centimeters tall. The cars and motorcycles were also miniature. The race was taking places in the aisles of a grocery store and seemed to be one of endurance rather than speed because many cars were wrecking and the field of contenders was narrowing. The camera didn't show any wreck actually taking place but would always show its aftermath. The car would often hit sacks of food along the aisles and tear them open. On one camera shot I noticed the high price of some cat food, which was three cans for a dollar.
One fellow in the race was riding a motorcycle. His motorcycle began to smoke and he pulled to the side. His manager told him to pull out. He refused and when his motorcycle stopped smoking he reentered the field. Although he was clearly going to end in one of the final positions he continued to race.
The appearance of the race track changed and it began to look like the full-sized track at the Scioto County fairgrounds. Another of the contenders had trouble with his motorcycle and carried part of it from the race track. He then reentered the race; I thought it was against the rules for anyone to carry part of their vehicle off the tracks and then reenter. It made me angry to see the fellow cheating.
The field narrowed until only two contenders were left, one of whom was the cheater. Both racers pulled to the sidelines for a break.
What I was actually watching wasn't a live broadcast but a film of an earlier race. Several other people were sitting around the television watching it with me, among whom was the very person who had furtively reentered the race. He was sitting directly in front of me. I approached him and asked if he recalled his wreck and transfer of the vehicle from the racetrack. He lied and said no.
I returned to the garage section and prepared to leave. Four buses were parked there. I picked up a long map and began washing the backs of the buses with it to remove the grime which they had collected.
Dream Journal Home Page
Copyright 2003 by email@example.com