Dream of: 23 July 1975 "Buddha, Buddha"

only one perfect way

exists for those who attempt to

 walk the proper path

While I was in the Gallia County Farmhouse, my paternal grandmother Mabel was cooking lunch in the kitchen. My father was sitting like Buddha on the floor of the living room.

I gazed out the front window, down the front of the hill atop which the Farmhouse sits, and toward the bridge which crosses Symmes Creek at the bottom of the hill. When the dogs began barking at approximately twenty men on the other side of the bridge, the men threw rocks at the dogs. After walking into the next room and fetching a rifle, I walked out on the front porch and I shot the rifle at the men. After quickly running out of bullets, I became frightened because the men (carrying guns) had started crossing the bridge toward the Farmhouse.

Meanwhile, my grandmother was placing a delicious meal with potatoes, bread and corn on the table.

When the men reached the Farmhouse, they wanted to come inside, but I stood in the door with my gun, blocking their way. I decided, however, to allow one man inside so he could use the bathroom. While my grandmother continued working in the kitchen, my father, still sitting on the living-room floor, said, "Buddha, Buddha."

When one of the men on the porch pointed his gun at me, my father said I should also let the other men enter. I acquiesced and the poor and hungry men walked inside the Farmhouse. When one man tried to steal a potato and a piece of bread, I caught him, but I felt so sorry for him, I gave him the bread anyway. Although we did not have much food, we decided we wanted to share the food with the men. They sat in the living room while I carried the food to them, and as they ate, the filthy, dirty men became rather friendly.

We soon led the men upstairs, where everything was black from a fire which had once occurred there.

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