Dream of: 09 February 1988 "Prosaic Or Poetic"

A woman and a man (both in their late 20s) were standing in a forest, having an argument. The woman vaguely reminded me of LaBrie (a Dallas acquaintance) and the man vaguely reminded me of her new boyfriend. I was a little curious as to what type of person the man actually was, since I had never met him. However I remembered the woman had told me he sometimes brought her presents and wrote poems to her.

Also standing in the field was a large black train engine. It was antique, but in excellent condition a thing of beauty to behold. It belonged to the man, and he cherished it. As the argument between the man and the woman escalated, she threatened to damage the engine. Finally she pushed the engine, causing it to fall over. The engine didn't seem to be damaged, but clearly the woman could damage it if she tried. The man was alarmed about her actions and he seemed about to defend his treasured engine. But instead, he simply turned from the woman, told her to do whatever she wanted to it, and walked away to a neighboring building.

As he walked away, the woman began hitting the engine with a sledge hammer. She didn't have the strength to hit the engine hard, but obviously she was inflicting some damage. The man could see her and was obviously alarmed by what she was doing. However he didn't go back and attempt to stop her.

Once the man reached the building, I seemed to be he. Through some window panes I looked back over at the woman. I tried to position myself so she wouldn't be able to see me. But then I saw her looking my way and I ducked down. Finally I positioned myself behind an old green car parked in the building. It looked as if the woman was looking toward the building, trying to see me.

Meanwhile, while I was watching the woman, someone else in the building, perhaps the man, began playing an old piano. I had seen the piano when I had entered and I had rather wished I could play it. The music was quite exquisite and consisted of very rapidly-played, interweaving notes. I began taping my fingers on the hood of the car along with the music.

Just then the woman walked right up to the window and looked in. I spoke to her and said that since I could have done either something prosaic or poetic in this situation, and since I actually had done something poetic like playing the piano, I had concluded I was a poet.

But she seemed unimpressed. She walked into the building, obviously still wanting to continue the argument. Only now the argument was with me. After finding another vehicle in the room, she climbed in it and began driving it around the room, threatening me with it. I immediately jumped into the old green car.

I sat in the back seat which turned out to be quite dirty. While back there, I began having a little fantasy. I imagined I could jump out of the car and say that the back seat was full of ants and that they had gotten into my pants. Then I would have an excuse for pulling my pants off in front of the woman. That could be rather erotic. Perhaps we would even end up having sex together.

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