Dream of: 22 December 1989 "Between A Church And A Courthouse"
decisions can never be undone
Although I couldn't see him, my father seemed to be with me in a strange place where a sidewalk ran between two buildings: a church and a courthouse. The high sidewalk was actually between the roofs of the buildings. The pretty sidewalk appeared to be constructed of pink bricks, and appeared to wind through and over other buildings. I walked on the sidewalk until I reached a roof fabricated from smooth stone. I climbed up the roof, and when I had reached the top, I slid back down to the sidewalk. For a moment I was afraid I would fall to the ground, but I didn't.
I looked at the buildings on both sides of the sidewalk. On the right was a tower with a windows. The rocks in the tower contained lines of blue stone, perhaps turquoise, which had been set in the rock. Around the windows were detailed figures which had been sculpted in the rock. I saw the sculpture of an angel. I also saw an eagle which appeared to be made of black metal. It was all quite impressive.
Somewhere along the way, I encountered my brother Chris (1957-1974) and my grandmother Leacy (1901-1972), and I gave them some pastry filled with white cream to eat. I first let Leacy eat, then Chris. I continued feeding them. A little fell to the ground while Chris was eating.
On one side of the sidewalk was a door to a room in the church. I opened the door and saw some chairs inside. I thought it was a place of meditation, and it appeared very tranquil.
When I finally walked into a building, I found a woman who needed some scissors. She told me I could find the scissors in a hotel near the church. I returned to the sidewalk and then walked into a room which seemed to be in the church. I asked another woman if she had some scissors. She said she did and she showed the scissors to me. She said, however, that the scissors needed something in order to be more sharp. The scissors cost $4. I decided to buy them.
Dream Commentary 2015
The comparison between the Dream Journal and a church makes me think of how the vast majority of people who try to write on the Dream Journal actually do not continue to write there. Like visitors in a church, they come and then leave - most often without ever returning. Only a small contingent of dream-journalists plod on by writing regularly for a while, and even then, most of those eventually give up and fall away, most often without ever returning. An even smaller hard-core cadre of only a half-dozen or so disconnected dream-journalists, however, write their dreams continuously on a permanent basis, and I continue to wonder why.
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