Dream of: 30 June 1986 (2) "Tracking Lions"
I was working at a job located in an underground area inside a mountain. The job was part of a construction project by the United States government to build a place safe against atomic weapons. Tunnels had been cut throughout the mountain and the mountain itself had been partially built by dirt being taken from the interior of the mountain and piled on top of the mountain.
Many other people, including a number of security personne,l were also working.
I found a map which pictured the mountain and showed a cut-away view of tunnels in the mountain. Different numbers were written on the map for different levels of the mountain. I had seen the map discussed before in a manual, but I was still unsure what the numbers represented. The numbers went up to 100 and I thought they might represent the number of atomic bombs necessary to be dropped on the mountain to penetrate to certain levels.
Taking maps out of the area wasn't permitted, but I decided to smuggle the map out. I folded it up into a very tiny square and stuck it into the watch-pocket of my blue jeans.
During the course of the day a short part of a movie entitled The Development of a Mushroom Cloud was shown. The part I saw showed the picture of an atomic missile landing and penetrating the earth. The mushroom cloud just began to form when the segment ended.
Later I ran into a fellow whom I hadn't seen working there before. Apparently he was a new maintenance man replacing another maintenance man. I approached him, asked if he were the new maintenance man and he replied affirmatively.
At the end of a day's work - when it was time to leave - I began gathering my things together, which included a pair of leather brogan boots and my heavy, white, wool sweater. I went to a very large elevator where people were loading up to leave. A long line was moving quite slowly.
I walked into a small room in front of the elevator door where a fellow was sitting in a fold-up chair and watching the line slowly trek past. I was tired and I sat down in another foldup chair next to the fellow. I tried to put on my boots, but I simply couldn't seem to get them on. Finally everyone had loaded onto the elevator and the people began hollering for me to hurry. I couldn't seem to assemble all my things quickly enough. I ran to catch the closing door. I tried at first to stick my boot in the door to stop it, then managed to stick my fingers in the door and it reopened. As the door opened I thought I had caught my boot in it, but I saw that someone else's boot – a tan-colored boot darker than mine – was caught in the door. Yet the boot didn't impede the functioning of the elevator door.
I boarded the elevator, but instead of going up, the elevator headed down. I thought that the elevator would go back up and that I could have simply caught it on its way back up. Suddenly I realized I had left my sweater lying behind. I would need to stop and pick it up on the way back up because it was the only good sweater I had.
Someone in the back of the elevator was making a sound, "Baa. Baa." like a sheep. I rather felt as if we were all crowded together like sheep.
I was concerned about having the map on me because I thought it was a security breach and that I could probably go to jail if I were apprehended. Nevertheless, I still wanted to have the map to hang on my wall to look at.
A fellow in the elevator asked me if I would like to go tracking the next morning with him. It was already about three in the morning and he was going to leave about six. I told him I didn't want to go. I recalled I had had some recent dreams about tracking and wondered why.
I wondered what the fellow intended to track. I began imagining in my mind lions running through the jungle leaving their tracks behind. I also imagined tracking around my Cabin on the Gallia County Farm. I knew there wouldn't be as many animals there and I thought tracking would be very difficult on the Farm. Tracking a lion would be difficult, much less a smaller animal.
Dream Epics Home Page
Copyright 2013 by firstname.lastname@example.org