Dream of:19 January 1989 (2) "Doing Something Worthwhile"
I seemed to be watching a movie about some people on a bus. For some reason a woman and a young man in the bus had been attacked by other people in the bus. A terrible fight followed with blood splattered all over the bus, and when the bus door was opened, blood streamed out onto the ground. The bodies of the woman and the young man were then thrown out onto the ground. At the same time, the bodies of three other young men who had been fighting against the woman and the young man, were also thrown from the bus. The woman and the young man died, but the three young men were still alive when the bus pulled away, although they were badly injured. The movie then ended.
I found myself in a crowd of people talking withmy mother about the movie which I had just seen. Suddenly I noticed in the crowd that a man had his hands around another man's neck strangling him. It didn't appear that he was trying to kill the man, but it looked obvious that he was causing him pain. The man being strangled looked as if he might be crazy. The other people around me didn't do anything, because the man doing the strangling was very strong.
Finally, however, when the two men sat down, I walked up to the man who had been doing the strangling and I asked him in Spanish why he didn't leave the other man alone. He looked at me fiercely at first, but then let loose of the man he was strangling. The poor man who was being strangled thanked me, and I simply told him to go on his way.
I then tapped the knee of the man who had been doing the strangling and I said, "Gracias."
He was still looking at me ferociously, but he didn't say anything. He appeared to be so surprised that he didn't know what to say.
I walked a short ways to a field where I stood alone, until something happened and the crowd began coming in my direction. When the crowd was all around me, I realized the strangler might now try to also attack me. But I thought it didn't matter. Life wasn't worth living if I didn't do something worthwhile with it. It didn't matter much to me if the man attacked me.
I reflected on my mother and I recalled that she had recently fallen down some stairs. Her body had been badly battered, and for nothing. At least if my body had been battered, it would be because I was trying to do something worthwhile with my life. The thought made me feel good. Even if I died, it was unimportant, because I was doing something worthwhile with my life.
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