Dream of: 19 July 1994 "Compromised Principles"

Sitting in a movie theater, waiting to watch a movie, I saw a better seat closer to the screen, and moved down to it. The seat next to me on my left was also empty, but sitting in the seat on the other side of that seat was a blonde woman (probably in her mid 20s). Realizing she was probably retarded, I hoped no one saw me sitting close to her. But, I quickly berated myself for having such a prejudice, and thought to myself that it shouldn't matter if anyone saw me sitting close to a retarded woman.

I had also seen Dale sitting in the theater. I recalled that I had had several dreams about Dale, and after having read the dreams, I had concluded that I in some ways idolized Dale. I thought he had a strong character. However, I thought to myself that I didn't want to carry my idolization to far and try to be like Dale. I was my own person and I needed to be myself.

The lights on the theater were still on. Many people gradually grew tired of waiting and began leaving. About a dozen people in a row in front of me stood and left. I was even thinking of leaving myself.

Finally, the woman on my left spoke to me. She had a cover over her head so I could barely see her face. She apparently knew me, because she called me by my first name, Leroy. As she talked, I realized I liked communicating with her, and I didn't care who knew.

As the blonde woman and I talked, a second woman, quite obese, walked up to me and handed me a fishing pole. Although the retarded blonde woman was still on my left, she and I were no longer in the theater. Instead, we were now sitting on the front porch of a house. Water covered all the land in front of the house, obviously the result of a flood.

The obese woman who had handed me the fishing pole had been fishing from the porch, and had hooked a fish. However, she didn't know how to pull in the fish, and she wanted me to help. Surprised that the obese woman had been able to hook anything from the porch, I began pulling the line in for her.

Finally, I hauled in a large catfish, about a foot long, onto the porch. The catfish had a light gray back and a white belly. As it lay on the porch, I could see the long sharp fins sticking from its sides, and I knew I needed to be careful of the fins. I could also see the hook in the fish's mouth, and I began trying to extract the hook. I held one foot on the fish until I was able to pull out the hook.

Obviously the fish needed to be killed. Probably the best way would be to stick a knife in the back of the fish's head and puncture the brain. Someone gave me a knife and I began trying to stick it in the brain. I tried several times, wary that the fish would begin flopping violently when I hit the brain. I clumsily managed to cut off a big chunk of skin on the side, and finally butchered part of the fish's neck. But I could still feel that the fish was alive under my foot.

Finally, as I felt the life and power in the fish, I realized I had made a mistake by helping to kill it. I didn't believe in catching fish, and I shouldn't have helped catch this one. I had compromised my principles, and now I was sorry. Even though the people had needed help, I shouldn't have helped them do something I didn't believe in. I now felt sorry for the dying fish.

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