Dream of: 02 March 1996 "Escape"
I was riding a bicycle – which also seemed like a motorbike – on top of a high grassy hill. When I finally decided to descend the hill, I began going down a side which was almost perpendicular – about eighty degrees. I could see some fences made of sturdy round metal poles had been placed at several places across the side of the hill, apparently to stop rock slides. I was no longer on the bike, but was walking it carefully down the hill beside me. When I came to the first fence, I grabbed hold, thankful I had something to hold onto.
Instead of continuing on down the hill, I crept along the length of the fence, seeing a less steep area at the end of it. When I reached the end of the fence, I discovered a paved road winding down the side of the hill, and I climbed back on my bike and began riding down the road.
As I rode along the road, I was surprised to discover two-story frame houses on both sides of the road, none of which were occupied – they were all boarded up and empty. I must have passed 30-40 houses before coming to the intersection at the bottom of the hill. There I saw the street was blocked off so no one could drive up it. I realized now I was in New Boston; I also recalled that Carolina and I had recently been in this area, but I hadn't noticed the boarded-up houses at that time.
I knew where I wanted to go: I wanted to visit Lane to see if he had any good marijuana which he could sell me. I knew Lane lived on Jackson Street in Portsmouth (right in the area or maybe even the house where Carol Walls used to live) because I had recently visited him and bought some pot from him. However the pot which I had bought hadn't been that good, and I now wanted to see if he had any better pot. I hurried off, heading for Portsmouth.
***
I was on the old red Honda motorcycle (which I used to own in the mid 1970s). I was on Jackson Street in the area (around Carol Walls' old house) where I thought Lane lived. I actually parked the motorcycle and went upon the porch of one house to see if I could find Lane. But before knocking on the door, I realized it wasn't the right house, and I went back to the motorcycle. I looked the houses over, but I just couldn't remember which one was his. Finally I simply decided to leave.
As I headed east on Jackson Street, I realized I was driving with expired license tags. Seeing a cop parked at an intersection up ahead, I quickly turned down a side street. Once in the street, still fearing the cop might try to circle around and cut me off, I turned off the street into a vacant lot with tall grass. I pulled deep into the grass, stopped my bike and lay down in the grass with my bike beside me. I stayed there for five or ten minutes, wondering if the cop might see the trail my bike had made through the grass and follow me. But when no one showed up, I finally got back on the bike and rode back into the street.
The coast was clear. As I drove back into the street, I thought to myself that indeed sometimes it was possible to outwit the police and escape them. I continued down the street, merging into traffic, keeping a wary eye for the police.
