Dream of: 21 February 1989 "Out Of Touch"

I had gone to an office to begin a new job one morning, and I sat down at a desk behind a large complicated typewriter. It took me a while to realize that the typewriter had five rows of keys and that each row was a different color. The row second from the bottom was red and the bottom row was yellow. In addition, each key apparently could type a different set of letters, up to five sets. For example, one key on the red row could type the letters "pet" as well as other letters depending on which mode it was in. The letters "pet" could be followed by "er" from another row to form "Peter", the name of someone else who worked here.

An attractive black-haired woman (probably 30 years old) walked in and sat at another desk. She reminded me somehow of Rosamaria (who worked for me for a while as a legal assistant), but she was most definitely not Rosamaria. She was going to work at another desk for someone who was apparently my brother. I hoped I could get her to help me learn to use the typewriter. She sat down to use hers and seemed to know exactly what she was doing.

Finally I began talking with her, and quickly learned that I had inherited part of a company which was originally owned by my father and then divided up between me and my brothers when my father died. This was my first day on the job, and I was still unsure what exactly was going on, but she tried to help me some. There was a large peculiar looking "D" which would still be used as a symbol for all of us.

***

I was hanging on to what appeared to be the side of a cliff. On one side of me was a blue sky dappled with large cumulus clouds. The clouds began changing shape into a beautiful, phantasmagoric array of white space ships. I almost immediately realized I had taken a hallucinogenic drug and was now beginning to feel its effects. I didn't know how it had happened that I took the drug. But right now, I was only concerned with trying to retain in my mind the beautiful images of this other world which surrounded me. I knew that when I had taken an hallucinogenic drug in the past, the problem had been that I hadn't been able to retain the experience well in my memory. Now I just would like to be able to remember what was happening to me.

***

I had climbed up the cliff, and on top had found a room with about four people in it. They seemed to have something to do with the people with whom I was originally working in the office earlier. The black-haired woman still was here. She was lying down over to the side at one point and I went near her. I was in love with her. I now realized she was married to my brother, but I still loved here. I thought about what it would be like having sex with her; it might not be so bad, as long as my brother didn't have any diseases and none of us had sex with anyone else. I wanted to touch her right now, but I felt as if it wouldn't be appropriate.

***

In the same room, about four other people and I had a canvas spread on the floor and had poured paint on it. We then proceeded to walk around in the paint and finally to roll around in it. I was enjoying what I was doing, but I was concerned that since I was still under the influence of the hallucinogen, I might begin to see images in the paint which were not really there, and that when I was no longer under the influence of the drug, I would no longer see the images. I was afraid that what I perceived as beauty under the drug would merely prove later to be an illusion.

And indeed I did begin seeing images in the canvas, which was approximately one meter wide and two meters long. Mostly I could see images of faces. I saw eyes and noses and found them to be quite beautiful. The others also saw them and I was convinced that the images were not mere illusions. I made a few steps on the canvas and new faces appeared. I would like to do a few remaining touches and then save the canvas.

But we were interrupted by the news that the father of the woman I loved was coming in. The woman now had blond hair, and indeed I did feel as if I loved her. But now I realized the problem was that I recently married another woman, someone with black hair. In fact, I only married the woman in the past week. It wasn't clear, but the black-haired woman I married was also related to the father of the blonde-haired woman. Perhaps he was the father of both.

When the father walked in, my first reaction was to go back over the side of the cliff and hide there until he left. I didn't want to talk to him. He was an important man and apparently owned the entire business in which I was now working. I thought about how pleasant it would be to just hang there again on the side of the cliff and watch the beautiful images, especially now that I was feeling the effects of the hallucinogen more strongly. I thought I would tell the others I was going to sleep for a little bit over the side of the cliff and say, "I'm going to take a nap."

But before I could act, he walked into the room. I figured it was evident to him that everyone here was under the influence of an hallucinogenic drug, so I even talked to him about it. He seemed concerned that we were using the drug. We seemed to be in San Francisco and he said that there was much of the drug in the streets around here. I acknowledged that he was correct, but then went on to say that I myself had only taken a third of a hit of a drug, and that I was still able to function basically normally because it hadn't affected me much. He seemed glad to know that I hadn't taken much and said, "I'm encouraged."

The father, the blonde-haired woman and I quickly sat down at a table together and got to the point. I told him that I was in love with his daughter the blonde-haired woman. I said to her, "I do love you."

I then told him I was aware that I had made a mistake by marrying the other woman. He said he realized it and had already begun work on canceling the marriage. I didn't know how he intended to do that. I asked him if he were contemplating an annulment. He didn't say.

But as we talked, it occurred to me that although I felt as if the blonde-haired woman loved me, I hadn't yet actually asked her. I again told her I loved her and wanted to marry her, and then said, "But if you don't love me, tell me now."

She looked at me and answered, "I don't."

It didn't actually surprise me so much to hear that, although it did disconcert me. It immediately occurred to me that perhaps I didn't actually love her that much. In fact, I realized I didn't really know whom I loved. Perhaps I would just stay with the black-haired woman. Suddenly I realized the black-haired woman was actually Carolina. I feel confused and rather numb, as if I were out of touch with my emotions. It was difficult to say what I actually felt.

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