Dream of: 05 August 1994 "An Awakening"
I was sitting in on a couch, reading a Reader's Digest condensed book volume. I read a short story, liked it, then read another one. A woman probably in her late 50s walked up and sat down beside me on the arm of the couch. We seemed to be sitting somewhere outside, and other people around us seemed to be taking part in some kind of gathering. I asked the woman if she would like me to read one of the stories to her. She indicated she would, and I began leafing through the book in search of a story. I finally found one, and I began reading out loud.
The story – which seemed to be about animals – was quite difficult to read. I discovered I didn't care much for the story; so I stopped and told the woman I was going to leaf through the book and look for another story. I quickly found another story about black people. This story had quite a few pictures with it, and was obviously also sexually oriented. I clearly saw one man's penis in one of the pictures. Following succeeding pictures, I saw that the man's penis was shot off, as if by some kind of gun. I mentioned to the woman that Readers Digest stories had certainly changed, that they had become much sexier than they used to be. She agreed. Instead of reading the story, I kept flipping through the book, looking for other stories.
The next story I saw appeared to be about an island paradise. It also contained pictures, all of which were predominantly blue in color. It looked like an interesting story, so I began reading it. At the same time, as I read, I began sinking into a trance-like state. In the course of the trance, I was confronted with the question of death. It also seemed as if both the story which I was reading, and the woman sitting beside me also had something to do with death. I began trying to understand the meaning of death.
When I emerged from the trance, I was walking around at this gathering, which had the feel of an outdoor picnic. Someone walked up to me as asked, "What is death?"
I answered, "Its an awakening."
It seemed to me that I had finally made this important realization about death.
My brother Chris was here. Only instead of looking like himself, he looked like a bunch of chopped up meat inside a paper bucket, like something fried chicken might come in. I picked up the bucket and held it. I sat down on the ground and began talking to Chris. I thought Chris was in pain. I couldn't do anything for him except whisper soothing words to him. I told him not to worry and whispered to him that death was an awakening. I told him that when he died, he would be released from all this misery.
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