Dream of: 21 June 1988 "Doughnut Factory"

I was riding along Gallia Street in New Boston, Ohio in the direction of Portsmouth, when I realized I had dropped something out of the vehicle I was in. I stopped, got out and walked back up the street looking for the object which I had dropped. I was in the area near the Rexall drug store in the east end of New Boston. I took long strides along the sidewalk, which seemed covered with beige carpet. The area seemed somehow familiar to me, and I contemplated how children must walk these streets everyday and know the streets well.

Finally, after not being able to find the lost object, I began walking back toward Portsmouth. I was soon able to board a bus and I walked to a seat in the rear. My mother was sitting in a seat across the aisle from me; I felt comfortable on the bus.

Someone began playing a religious Christmas song and I began singing. My mother looked surprised to see me singing at first, but then she also began singing along.

I looked out the window; some children were playing outside with little cars which they could run with remote control. It seemed as if it were close to Christmas, and I thought about how many toys children received those days.

A beautiful woman (perhaps in her mid 20s) stood up in the middle of the bus and spoke. Apparently she was a tour guide. I couldn't get over just how attractive she was.

When I looked out a window on my right, I saw a tall building perhaps 15 stories high which, on its side, had a statue of a man carrying a torch. The statue was as tall as the building and was quite impressive. I hadn't even known that such a thing existed in Portsmouth. The building itself reminded me of the bombed-out church I had visited in the middle of Berlin, and I thought of mentioning that to the attractive woman. I thought she might be impressed to know I had been to Berlin, but I didn't say anything.

The buildings in this area were rather old and interesting. Finally I realized the driver had taken a shortcut to an area in the south part of Portsmouth, and finally I realized the driver was my father. Someone said something to him about not knowing that the shortcut existed.

The bus stopped in front of a large old factory. My father got out and walked toward the building. My father and I hadn't been getting along well lately. In fact, we had hardly been speaking with each other, but now I felt as if I would like to go with him. So I stepped out of the bus and ran along behind him. I almost felt like a child tagging along.

I reached him and just as I began walking beside him, he started to warn me about some holes in the muddy path we were traveling. The warning came too late, and I sank in mud almost to my knees. I grabbed onto his right arm and let out a scream like, "Aaeeeeeee..." I walked several steps in the deep mud before I could finally pull myself out. When I did get out, it seemed as if the uncomfortable mud had gone inside the black boots I was wearing. 

Just as I got out of the mud, I reached a man who seemed to know my father. It looked as if the man worked in the factory. He and my father began talking. I listened, and began to realize my father manufactured doughnuts in the factory. Apparently some doughnuts had been made that very morning and my father inquired about them. It seemed as if a problem had arisen as to what to do with the doughnuts now that they were made.

My father spoke and outlined a plan to send the doughnuts across the river to Kentucky to sell there.

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