Dream of:19 July 1991 "Buried Under The Sea"
I had committed a crime, probably a murder. The authorities were investigating, but as of yet, they hadn't connected me to the crime – another fellow was the prime suspect. I was trying to divert attention from myself, but I was concerned that I might have left some evidence at the scene of the crime, such as my fingerprints.
I was responsible for working on a nuclear machine located in the basement of a house. The machine looked like a large metal box about three meters high and two meters wide on each side. Several other such machines had been built, but this was the newest one – number 11.
Something went wrong with the machine and it appeared that I was responsible. It looked inevitable that the machine would explode, and it was possible that everyone on earth would be killed. A black-haired woman sitting next to me began talking with me about what would happen. A rush of wind whistled in the distance – darkness crept in. The woman explained that there wouldn't be a big explosion, but that the wind and the darkness were the beginning of what was going to happen.
I was in the basement of a house where I had been living with my father and my mother. My father had discovered that I had done something wrong; he and my mother had gone to my room (the adjoining room in the basement), and were going through my things. I was quite upset because I didn't think he had the right to be searching through my belongings.
I walked into my room; my father had taken some papers out of my drawers and was reading them. On his lap he also had acollage which I had made. In the collage was a picture of a person with words coming from the person's mouth. The words had been cut out of newsprint and pasted together to form a sentence. My father read the words which said something about bodies being buried under the sea. I stopped, reflected for a moment and told him that my first wife Louise had pasted the words on the collage. But I actually meant my second wife Carolina, because Carolina was the one who had put the words there. I remembered the words had come from an ancient Hindu text, but I couldn't remember the word "Hindu," and I told my father that the words had derived from a Mayan text.
I became rather angry and exploded that my father and my mother had no right to be going through my papers. I said, "I'm not 12. I'm not 22. I'm 28."
I was trying to impress on them that I was too old for them to be trying to control me. I told them I had only recently begun to feel comfortable living with them, but that if they were going to treat me like that, I would have to leave. I said, "This is what people do when they leave home. They do what they want to do with the rest of their lives."
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