Dream of: 06 February 1986 "To Tell A Story"
I was aware I was having a dream. My state of lucidity was so intense and I seemed so awake, I wondered if there was even any point in continuing the dream. I decided to proceed anyway just to see what would happen.
I wondered where I should place myself, thought about the Gallia County Farm (which in some way both attracted and repelled me) and immediately found myself there. It wasn't night, but the sky was dark and overcast. I was standing on the driveway at the foot of the hill behind the Farmhouse looking up toward the Farmhouse, which had both an eerie and a wholesome quality about it. It looked like the kind of place one might find in a scary movie. I knew I had often dreamed about the Farmhouse and I still didn't know why. Something unresolved seemed to lie inside it, but I didn't know what.
I thought perhaps having an overview of the Farmhouse might help and I decided to fly over. I began rising above the Farmhouse and looked down upon it. I thought if I wanted, I could imagine a skull lying on the ground over to my left, which would probably enhance the eeriness of the scene. As I thought about it, I half envisioned such a sight. The skull I saw wasn't white, but dark, as if it had been buried for years.
I was concerned the wind might catch and blow me away. Although I liked the sensation of flying I didn't feel comfortable and I felt out of control when I flew. I simply wanted to land and go into the Farmhouse.
Almost immediately I found myself inside the Farmhouse, seated at a table across from a black-haired girl, who looked as if she might be 10 years old (but whom I knew must be about 20). The girl, like I, was aware I was dreaming. I felt immobilized and the girl began attempting to help me break through my numbness. She had been trying to help me for quite a while.
I was troubled by the possibility the girl liked me in a romantic way because I didn't feel it would be beneficial for us to become romantically involved and I had shunned any romantic indications from her. Yet at the same time, I felt she liked me on a non-romantic level, just as I did her, which was the level upon which I wanted to communicate with her.
She had been patient with me and for a long time had been trying to help me break out of my inability to communicate while I was dreaming. I myself, of course, had often thought of my desire to sleep-walk and to actually write something while dreaming. It had been a desire which hadn't been fully developed within me, but one which I realized was important.
I couldn't remember having ever actually spoken in my sleep while dreaming and I was quite uncertain of my ability to do so. It seemed that speaking and the sound of my voice would awaken me. I knew it was possible for some people to talk in their sleep without awakening, but I felt certain I would awaken if I spoke.
The girl was occupied looking down at something in front of her on the table (which was cluttered with a number of items) and she wasn't looking directly at me, but I still had a very clear view of her face and I wanted to tell her something about it.
I began a strained mumble, almost like a baby speaking its first words and said, "I ..."
The girl looked up at me, I hesitated while continuing to look at her clear, young face and said, .".. you... remind... me..."
The girl began speaking along with me as if she knew exactly what I was going to say. Together we both continued, .".. of ... Sally ... Fields."
Indeed she looked very much like the actress Sally Fields might have looked as a young girl. Apparently many people had already told her that and I could tell that for some reason, she didn't like the idea. She said, "If you don't say 'shit' now then there's something wrong."
I didn't want to say "shit," waited in silence one or two minutes and then mumbled, "I'm sorry."
She continued to look at me and I felt something emanating from her toward me. It was a feeling devoid of emotion but a feeling of linkage between our spirits. I was surprised, because I had expected her to feel some kind of emotional response toward me; but I was glad she didn't.
The linkage between us was one of a mutual task. Her task was to help me learn to communicate while I was dreaming while my task was to learn to communicate while dreaming. Our relationship involved nothing more.
I felt I was the one becoming emotional and tears sprang to my eyes. I reached out and clasped her hand, which was lying on the table. Understanding now the nature of our relationship I didn't feel constrained from touching her.
She was obviously glad I was learning to communicate while dreaming. She spoke a bit and I perceived she had waited a long time for the event. She didn't seem so excited by the occurrence itself, but she seemed enveloped by a sense of urgency that having passed this important landmark we proceed.
I looked at her hands and saw the fingernails of the hand I wasn't holding were painted blue. I said, "Your fingernails."
I looked at the fingernails on her other hand and saw they were painted green. She said, "Yes. I painted them different colors."
I suddenly realized my dog was in the room sitting to my left. I couldn't really see him, but I could feel his presence. I thought he looked like Mike, a pet I had had until I was about 13 years old, but I called him Dac, the name of a Dalmatian I had had until I was about 20. I reached my right hand across my front, felt his stomach and scratched him. I was uncertain whether he was sitting on a chair beside me or actually on the table. Still looking at the girl I asked, "Do you like my dog? Is he up on the table?"
I thought if he were on the table I needed to take him off. But I didn't wait for her response. I was more concerned with my communication while I was dreaming. I realized that everything occurring was part of a dream and that I was actually probably lying on my bed. I also realized the words I had spoken before had been very gargled and mumbled and I felt now I could probably speak more clearly, but once again I thought the speaking would probably awaken me. However I thought I must try again, looked at the girl again and said, "Now I'm going to tell you a story."
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