Dream of: 12 September 1982 "Precarious Predicament"

I found myself in a log cabin which reminded me of my Cabin. But this wasn't the Cabin on the Gallia County Farm. The cabin I was now in was located on a woody hill which my father owned in a little town close to Portsmouth, the hill which I had always referred to as the Hill in New Boston. My father had first bought the 200 acres of hill property in the late 1960s. Covered with trees, the property sat high above a splendid view of the Ohio River. Since I hadn't been on the property in quite a while, I had come up here to look the cabin over.

In addition to the cabin, I had also built a small house which resembled a dog house, about a meter tall and a meter wide, which was sitting not far from the cabin. When I heard a noise outside, I stepped out of the cabin and was surprised to see a little boy riding away on a red bicycle down the dirt road away from the cabin. I immediately saw that the boy had cumbersomely tied the little house which I had built onto the back of his bike. Alarmed that the boy was stealing my little house, I ran after him, hollering for him to stop. But he was moving so fast, I couldn't catch up. As I continued chasing him down the dirt road, he sometimes disappeared in a dip in the road or around a corner. I thought I was gaining on him somewhat, and I hoped he wouldn't be able to see how close I was coming. But I could see I still wasn't going to be able to catch him. My only hope seemed to be to dash over the side of the hill off the road. From where I was I could see how the road wound around below me. To intercept the boy, I would only need to slip straight down the side of the hill to where the road twisted back around below.

I turned off the road and headed over the hillside. What I hadn't realized, however, was that after I had descended just a few meters down the hill, the hillside turned into a steep and jagged cliff of white rocks. Once I reached the craggy area, I began slipping and nearly tumbled down the cliff. Fortunately I latched onto a projecting rock in time to steady myself. However I was still in an extremely precarious position. Worried, I began beseeching God to help me from my predicament. As I begged God for help, I wondered how many people before me had found themselves in this same kind of dangerous situation, and had called upon God.

I kept struggling back up the hill until I finally reached the safety of the road again. Immediately another small boy came riding along the road on a little motorbike. I flagged him down and asked him to please take me down the hill on his motorbike. But he refused. I implored, but still he refused. Only when I finally offered to pay him 50 cents did he agree. Having obtained his permission, I hopped onto the back of his motorbike and he rapidly transported me all the way to the bottom of the hill.

Several buildings were clustered in a small community at the foot of the hill. Just as we arrived, I saw the red bicycle with my little house still strapped on the back disappear into one of the buildings, a grocery store. Anxious to catch the thief, I hopped off the motorbike. But before dashing into the store, I reached into my pocket for the money to pay the boy as I had promised him. I pulled out a handful of change and counted out some nickels, dimes and quarters. But as I counted, I was surprised to notice that the nickels looked like old "V" nickels and the dimes and quarters seemed to be the old sort made of pure silver. I immediately realized the coins were valuable, and concluded that I must have somehow picked them up from my father's coin collection. I knew I shouldn't be spending the coins; but since I was in such a hurry, I handed them to the boy anyway. I thought about telling the boy that the coins were worth much more than face value, but I was in too much of a hurry.

Having paid the boy, I raced into the store and looked for the red bicycle. But it was nowhere in sight. A female clerk was tending the store. When I asked her if she had seen the bike, she replied that she hadn't. Noticing a rear exit, I figured the boy had probably slipped out that way.

Spotting another checkout girl, I asked her if she had seen anything. She asked for a better description, explaining that a couple other people in the area were also in the business of stealing things. When I began describing how my little house had been strapped on the back of the boy's bicycle, she wanted to know how the boy had accomplished such a thing. I myself was curious about that. I knew the house was heavy and unwieldy. I finally concluded that the boy must have used a pulley to hoist the little house onto the bicycle.

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