Dream of: 18 October 1982 "Book On Dreams"

I sauntered into a bar on Gallia Street in downtown Portsmouth, Ohio, walked up to one end of the bar, and ordered a beer. Having been served, I gulped the beer down. Many people were at the bar, but not many glasses -- most people were simply talking and not drinking.

Some people at the crowded bar looked familiar. One fellow resembled Steve Adams (a fellow whom I had known for years in Portsmouth, notorious for his black belt in karate), who was busily discoursing with a woman at the other end of the bar.

When someone stepped away from the middle section of the bar, opening up a space, I walked from my end of the bar and moved into the open space. I stood back and looked around the room, which was beginning to fill. After a couple groups of women had walked in, I quickly became disgusted with the place. I stood at the bar a short while longer, finally turned and headed toward the door.

Why was I here, I wondered. I stood by the door and contemplated cruising to another bar down the street, but I figured I probably wouldn't find anyone at the other bar either. Everyone had probably already been to the other bar first, and then had repaired to this bar. I concluded thinking, "This is probably the hot spot of the night."

I was still unsure why I was even in the bar. I didn't enjoy this scudsy dive. It was exactly the kind of place where I thought I would never go. Yet here I was.

I thought about Louise, my winsome law school classmate whom I had been dating lately. She was intelligent and fun to be with. Spending time at home with her was so pleasant such a contrast from this dump.

I stepped from the bar out into the crowded street, where a carnival appeared to be in progress. As I plodded through the throng, I soon encountered Louise. We stopped and talked, but we soon began arguing. After making some final comment to her, I turned and walked away. She shouted something at me, but I couldn't distinguish what she had said. At first I thought she would follow me, but when I realized she wasn't behind me, I figured I should return to her. I reeled around and retraced my steps to where I had left her; but I couldn't find her she had disappeared into the thick crowd.

I now remembered Louise and I had arrived downtown in separate vehicles she had been in a car, whereas I had been driving a red motorcycle. Since we had parked the car and the motorcycle close to each other, I thought if I were to return to the parking place, I might find Louise there.

Hurrying to the spot, I soon found my motorcycle, but Louise was nowhere in sight. Concluding I might have a better chance of locating Louise if I looked for her from the motorcycle, I hopped on the bike, started it up and drove off.

Instead of focusing on Louise, however, I rode out of town and headed down a country road. Once I was in the country, my mode of transportation changed rather dramatically I was no longer riding a motorcycle. Instead, I was sitting in a red baby's high chair, a high chair capable of traveling down the road.

I was a little confused about how to operate the chair. When I began rapidly descending a hill, I stretched out my feet to the ground and tried to brake myself, but I kept going faster and faster down the curvy hill. I could somewhat control the direction I was headed, but I couldn't control the speed. Racing precipitously toward a bow in the road, I realized I was going too fast I was certain I couldn't negotiate the curve.

I tried to brake myself with a rock which had lodged under one foot, but I couldn't stop. With a crash I ran off the road into a ditch. I tumbled from the high chair, rolling over and over, until I finally came to a stop, hardly able to believe I was uninjured.

Dazed, I found myself lying near a small creek, with my high chair nowhere in sight. The area around me appeared to have been excavated by someone using a bulldozer, piling up dirt along the banks of the creek. Pulling myself to my feet, I began walking along the creek, back toward the road. Now barefoot, I enjoyed the feel of the soft dirt along the edge of the creek, but I worried I might injure my feet because so many dead branches and trees were scattered over the area. One pile of dead wood even resembled the ribs of a gigantic dead animal.

Suddenly I perceived something which felt like a snake had wrapped itself around my leg. I jerked the thing off and threw it into the water, unsure whether it had been a snake, a vine or something else.

I continued walking for a long ways, unsure whether I would be able to find my high chair. Finally I walked right up to the chair and picked it up. When I examined the chair, I realized how narrowly I had escaped injury. At the same time as I scrutinized the chair, I seemed to hear an expressive voice in my head which gravely intoned, "You must continue to do what God told you to do."

I thought that would be fine, but I thought before I continued to do what God had told me to do, I should just begin to do what God had told me to do.

I paused for just a second, then thought, "The main thing God has told me to do is to write my book on dreams."

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