Dream of: 25 April 1992 (2) "Lung Cancer"

I was with a friend who had just turned 18 and who was thinking of joining the army. Together we went to an army base where we thought he would join. I didn't know what we were looking for and I thought we should ask for recruiting. But finally I remembered that the word was "registration", and I wondered if we should not have gone to the post office instead. We found a building where a number of other young people, including even some women, were waiting in line. I was rather disdainful of the entire thing. But I also was going to sign up, even though I was 38 years old.

I saw one long line and one short line, and I quickly stood in the short line. My friend got in the long line. It quickly became my turn and I walked up to a young fellow seated in a chair. He handed me a paper and told me to fill it out. But when I looked at the writing on the paper, it looked like short hand. Looking closer though I saw it looked like Persian. I remembered that I had once known some Persian and I thought I might be able to read some of it, but I couldn't I handed it back to him and said, "This is Farsi." I thought he might be somewhat impressed that I at least knew what language it was, but if he were impressed, he didn't show it. After he took the paper back, he told me to get back in line. I got back in line and waited a long time and when I finally reached him he told me I would have to come back the next day.

I was quite angry, because he obviously had something against me and was treating me unfairly. I asked if there was someone else with whom I could speak. I was determined I wasn't going to let him treat me like that. I knew I wasn't in the military yet, and that he couldn't order me around.

Two or three other men were also working here doing the same thing he was doing. I turned to them and began explaining what he had done to me -- making me wait in line and then refusing to help me. At first they seemed uninterested in helping me, but finally one stood up and said something in my favor. The fellow I was dealing with finally said he would take me to the fifth floor where I could fill out the paper paperwork.

He walked with me to an elevator which we boarded. Six or seven other men wearing green army fatigues also got on. We were crowded up close to each other, and I thought that was natural for men in the military to always be close to each other. I was apprehensive about where the fellow was taking me. I thought he might be taking me to an area where he would try to harm me. But I was bigger than he and I thought if we had a fight, I could probably hold my own. I noticed a feeling in my left pocket, reached down and pulled his hand from my pocket. He was clutching something in it. I was incensed and hollered out to everyone that I had caught him stealing something from my pocket. The others seemed concerned, but did nothing.

Finally the door opened and we stepped out. We were obviously on a hospital floor, apparently in a religious hospital. It was also immediately apparent to me that I had lung cancer and was dying. I thought I might still live 10 years. The other fellow was aware of my sickness and asked, "Does it hurt?"

I answered, "It's starting to."

Indeed I could feel some pain n my lungs beginning to develop.

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