Dream of: 04 March 1996 "Songwriter"

Carolina and I were in a roomy two-story house filled with people milling about. I had come to know most people in the house and had become somewhat friendly with them, though not in a deep or meaningful way. But as I wondered why I was even associating with them at all, I suddenly realized there was one fellow in particular in the bunch who did matter to me. He was probably in his early 30s, was tall and thin, and had black hair. He seemed as if he might be related to me, perhaps a cousin. I knew he was musically talented and now I finally knew what I wanted to do: I wanted to write a song with him. I would write the lyrics and he would write the music. Carolina would also take part in performing the song. Although I didn't yet know the words to the song, I could feel it inside me and I knew that together we could produce something of professional quality.

I quickly began looking through the house for the fellow and was soon able to locate him. With some trepidation that he would decline my offer, I made my suggestion. I knew putting the song together would take quite a bit of work, and I was afraid he wouldn't be interested. But to my happy surprise, he quickly accepted, and we agreed to work together on the song.

***

Carolina and I were out in the city street in front of the house in which we had been. The street was packed with people waiting for some kind of event or show to take place. It even seemed that we were standing in some bleachers and the performance would take place down in front of us. However before any show began, I started to notice some commotion to my left and behind me, about 20 meters away, where a group of perhaps 200 people were gathered. Although it was difficult to see because it was so far away and so many people were in my way, I could tell that some of the people in the other group were taking off their clothes.

I vaguely recalled having heard about this event. It was some kind of orgy or love-in wherein everybody in the group got naked and had sex with any one they wanted to. Although I wasn't interested in participating in the group, I thought I would like to observe, and I wanted to walk with Carolina over to the edge of the group so we could watch. But there were just too many people in our way, and I didn't feel like pushing through them. So I just kept watching from the distance where I was, trying to see what I could.

Since I couldn't see clearly, I began to imagine what was going on. In my mind's eye I could see one woman (probably in her late 20s) with long brown hair who was completely naked. She was raised above the heads of the crowd so that she was lying on her back upon their up-stretched hands. In this position she was passed from hand to hand over the heads of the crowd. At the same time she had spread her legs wide apart. In one hand she was holding some kind of device which looked like an artificial penis which she inserted into her vagina, moving the device back and forth, in and out.

As the image began to fade from my mind, I could still see the crowd of people, many of whom seemed to be dancing as they took off their clothes. I was a bit repulsed by the whole affair, although I still wanted to watch. But I knew that now I didn't want to get any closer than what I was because another concern had entered my mind: AIDS. If someone were taking part in the group sex, did that mean the person had to have sex with whoever wanted to have sex? Did that not mean that there was a serious possibility of catching AIDS? As I stood there, I even thought I heard the word "AIDS" mentioned is some of the swirl of noises around me. It sounded as if other people were also concerned with the same question.

But now another thought came to me: What was I doing out here? I was just wasting time when I should be back with the musician, concentrating on writing the song. I needed to head back to the house at once. With Carolina by my side I began plowing through the crowd, trying to find my way back to the house to begin work on the song.

***

I found myself inside a small sundry store, with the throng of people still out in the street in front of the store. I was surprised that no customers appeared to be in the store. In fact I didn't even see anyone working in the store, although I had the impression that someone was behind a counter back in the corner.

I began nonchalantly to look around the store, unconcerned with anything else in the world. I made my way to the back of the store where I found a wall covered with small mail boxes set in the wall, as in a post office. As if I owned the place, I began looking over the mailboxes until I found one which was open, and I stuck my hand inside it. From the mailbox I pulled out a number of objects, including two gold wrist watches and two harmonicas still in their boxes. I liked the watches and the harmonicas very much, and for a moment I even thought of stealing them. But I was afraid someone might be watching me, and I put them back in the box. However, at the last instant, just as I was about to shut the door to the box, I let my right hand fall upon one watch and one harmonica, stealthily picked them up, and as I stood up erect, I slipped my hand into my pants pocket still holding the watch and harmonica.

I immediately headed for the door, fearful that at any moment someone would grab me. But no one did. Again I found myself on the street, the throng all around me. As I pushed my way through, I still kept a wary eye on the door of the store behind me, and soon I was sure I saw the door open and an anxious man in a dark trench coat step out and scan the surrounding street with his eyes. I just knew he was looking for me, that he had realized what I had done. My options raced through my mind. I could push on through the crowd. I could even get down on my hands and knees and wend my way through the people's legs. And as I thought about it, I could actually see myself doing it, until I was farther and farther away from the store.

I made my way back to the house, which stood with its front wall flush to the sidewalk. It was now clear where I was: Manhattan, where I now lived. And this was the house in which I lived.

In the front wall of the house was another wall of small mailboxes. I tried several to find one which was open, finally found one, and deftly deposited the watch and harmonica inside. I then stood back to the side, in the shadow, where I wouldn't be seen. I didn't have to wait long. A stocky man (probably in his early 40s) soon walked up and opened the box into which I had deposited the items. I didn't see what he did with the harmonica, but he put the wristwatch on his wrist.

No sooner did he have the wrist watch on than a second man in a long black trench coat stepped up and apprehended him. I stood listening to the colloquy which then took place between the two. It was quickly clear that the man in the trench coat was a Russian KGB agent, and that he was arresting the other man for having stolen the items. The Russian held the arm of the other man, the arm which was wearing the watch. I could clearly see the watch, and noticed that it wasn't a gold watch, but a black plastic watch. I also noticed that the face of the watch was completely covered with a thick layer of dust, so much so that the dial of the watch couldn't even be seen.

The KGB agent used one of his fingers to wipe off the dust, thus revealing the face, and thus revealing the name of the watch manufacturer which was printed on the face. It was obviously a Russian name, and seemed as if it might have been "Citroen", a word which I thought might have meant "citizen." The KGB agent appeared triumphant, believing he had proven his case. He continued to talk, saying how the watch had been left in the mailbox in the store by a young Russian woman, an athlete, a swimmer in the Olympics. The woman had died, thus making the watch even more important, as some kind of relic of the famous woman.

I was taking in everything, somewhat surprised at the turn of events. I was also wondering if there was any way the apprehended fellow could get out of this mess. Perhaps he could show that the Russian KGB agent had authority to make arrests in the United States. I could see a possible defense in that direction.

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