Dream of: 21 June 1988 (2) "Primitive People"

I was out in the country in what almost appeared to be a picnic area. Quite a few people were gathered around; one man who seemed like my old philosophy professor Rembert Glass was giving a talk about some primitive people in Hawaii and about a leader of those people whose name was "Old A." Rembert was extolling the simple uncomplicated life led by the people. I interjected that those people still faced difficulties, such as medical problems. Rembert maintained, however, that they had a better life than modern man presently had.

Several snakes were crawling around among the gathered people, but no one bothered the snakes. Apparently the snakes were friendly; they even seemed to have something to do with the culture about which Rembert was talking. The snakes were rather peculiar looking. They were silver and about a meter long, but were divided into short segments of only about a centimeter each.

Suddenly I felt something sharp touch the back of my left leg; when I looked back, I saw that one of the snakes was biting into my blue jeans pants leg. I twisted around so I was able to put my right foot on the snake's head and force it off my pants leg. I stood there with my foot on its head. I would have liked to kill it, but other people didn't want me to kill the snake, so I finally let it go.

It slithered off, but soon returned and began circling me. Obviously it was going to attack again. As it approached me, I once again trapped it under my foot. This time I was determined to kill it. I called to some nearby dogs; they immediately pounced on its body. The snake gathered strength and pulled free from under my foot. It took off at great speed into some underbrush.


I was with someone who reminded me of Ramo Roberts; we were discussing the same primitive people about which Rembert had been talking. Ramo likewise believed the primitive people, especially Old A, had been a superior bunch of people. We were in a room where Ramo lived; I looked around. Some things were lying on some shelves; I touched some of them. One object was a white smoking pipe, probably for hash.


I was outside; Ramo was sitting in the driver's seat of a nice red car. He now also seemed somewhat like Jeff Webb (acquaintance from Dallas Zen Center). Some other people were also in the car, including Bob Morris (a former high school classmate), who was sitting in the passenger side of the front seat. All the people in the car were apparently members of a Zen Center to which I had once belonged, but which I had quit.

Morris was thinking of leaving the Zen Center; Ramo asked him where he would go. Apparently Morris was thinking of moving overtop a pool hall frequented by some women of questionable repute. I mentioned to someone standing next to me that the Zen Center would probably be better off if Morris were to leave it.

Morris finally got out of the car and walked away; I wanted to take Morris's place and move back in the Zen Center. Ramo was just about to pull off when I hollered at him to wait. But a car was coming in the other direction and he needed to get across the street.

The Zen Center was right across the street; Ramo steered his car toward it. The front door consisted of two large completely glass doors. Ramo steered the car toward the door and I wondered what it would be like if he ran into them. And just as I thought it, in fact he smashed the car into the doors, breaking them.

This was very puzzling to me. Obviously he had hit the doors on purpose. But what had been his reason? Was it just lunacy, or was he in fact trying to say something?

I walked nonchalantly toward the building and passed inside through the broken doors.

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