Dream of: 06 November 1996 "Vina"
I was sitting on the floor of one of the upstairs rooms of the Gallia County Farmhouse. My old friend Buckner was with me, and I was happy to see that he had come to visit me on the Farm. My happiness was short-lived, however, because as I looked out one of the large windows of the room, I saw that a pickup truck loaded down with furniture and belongings had pulled up behind the House, and I knew that in the truck were some members of my family who were moving some things up to the Farm. I also knew that I was going to have to help with the moving, and that Buckner and I would be unable to simply spend the day loafing. I began picking up some papers lying on the floor in front of me, papers on which I had been working, and I began arranging them in five or six separate stacks, each stack with a number, starting at number one and then going on up to five or six. I was especially concerned about keeping these papers in order, so I could return to them later and finish my work on them.
Buckner and I both stood up; I was resigned to going downstairs to help my family move in the furniture. I knew the Farmhouse had had little furniture in it since my grandmother Mabel had moved out a couple years before; so it was time to bring some things in. I only wished I didn't have to do it right now.
Buckner also didn't seem anxious to work on moving in the furniture, and he told me to follow him. When I did so, we passed through a door, and I found myself standing in the upstairs of the house in Portsmouth where Buckner had lived when we had been in high school more than 25 years before. I knew Buckner had had the whole upstairs of his house to himself, and I immediately recognized that we were in his bedroom.
We both sat down on the side of his bed, and Buckner indicated we could just lie back in the bed and masturbate, but he even went further and made a gesture with his hand, as if to indicate that we could masturbate each other. I backed away from the bed, disgusted by the idea that Buckner would be suggesting such a thing. I had never known of Buckner to show that kind of inclination, and I was shocked. But almost as soon as I had backed away from the bed, I saw that Buckner was only kidding. He had just been testing me to see how I would react. He seemed satisfied with my disgust, and I saw that I had passed his little test.
I suddenly thought I might know why Buckner had brought me there: he had probably come to get some marijuana. I quickly asked him if he had any, and he told me there was some in the next room. He then stood, walked into the next room with me, and pointed out a baggie lying in plain view on a bureau. I picked up the baggie, looked inside and saw that it contained a small amount of pot – enough for one or two joints. Buckner told me to roll a joint, and he added that the pot was extremely powerful. I was glad to hear that this stuff was potent, instead of hearing that he had some low-grade pot that would just have given us a short high and a headache.
Buckner walked back into the bedroom and I set about working with the pot. I poured it out onto a stiff piece of paper, intending to separate out the seeds and stems. As I tilted the paper to let the seeds roll off, I realized I had far more pot than I had originally thought; there was enough for a good many joints. I found a coffee cup and began putting the good clean marijuana into the cup, filling the cup up almost to the top.
At the same time, as I was filling up the cup, I heard Buckner talking in the next room. It sounded as if he were talking with someone on the telephone, and I heard him mention the name "Jeannie." I concluded that he must have a girlfriend, and that he was talking with her on the phone. It sounded as if she lived nearby, and I thought he might be asking her to come over. Finally I distinctly heard him say, "Give me some money."
From this statement and others I inferred that the girl came from a wealthy family, and that she had been giving Buckner money on which to live. That was a little surprising, even though I knew Buckner didn't have a job or any visible means of support. What surprised me most was simply that Buckner had found a girl who was actually willing to give him money.
With my cup of marijuana in hand, I walked back into the room where Buckner was. I was surprised to see that he was lying on his back on the bed, and that the woman with whom he had been talking was lying in bed with him, with her back toward me. I was puzzled as to how she had arrived there; I thought she would have had to pass through the room where I had been in order to come in. I concluded that there must be another doorway of which I was unaware.
I had the feeling that the girl would be rather homely; but when she finally turned over on her back and lay beside Buckner so I could view her face, she was quite attractive, in an artificial, made-up sort of way. She was probably in her early 20s and had reddish-blonde hair which puffed up above her head and back down to her shoulders. She had bright red lipstick and was dressed in a long dark-blue, almost mauve nightgown.
As I stood at the foot of the bed, looking on, they continued their conversation, with the girl basically ignoring me. I felt a little uncomfortable standing there, with little or no notice being taken of me, and finally I asked the girl her name, but she just ignored me and continued talking with Buckner. I thought she wasn't going to even acknowledge my presence, but finally she turned her face toward me and said, "Vina."
I understood at once that "Vina" was her name. I had never heard of anyone being named "Vina," and I thought the name was rather strange; nevertheless I introduced myself, saying simply, "Steve."
With that, she seemed friendlier and more well-disposed toward me, although she continued talking to Buckner. It was evident that she was quite taken with him, that she would probably do anything he asked, and that she was indeed supporting him. At first I thought she must just be some bimbo whom Buckner had found, but then I began to see that she was actually quite intelligent. Gradually she began turning some attention to me, and I wove myself into the conversation. We broached the subject of what she did with her life, and she indicated that she was independently wealthy and that she didn't have to work, but that she did sometimes tell fortunes. She had a peculiar means of doing this: she said she would take a damp cloth and put it on someone's forehead; then, by looking at the shape of the cloth and the wrinkles in it, she could tell a person's fortune.
As the three of us continued our conversation, attention focused on Buckner and he began talking about what he had been doing during the last 10 years; apparently he hadn't done much at all, but he did mention that he had been to Iran and that he had been in prison there for a while, finally somehow managing to escape. As he told his story, I slowly began to realize it wasn't Buckner at all who was lying in bed, but an Iranian man who had escaped from Iran.
As I was trying to comprehend this fact, Vina picked up the story, and began explaining how some people who had escaped from Iran had done quite well in the United States. In fact they had done so well that they had ended up "on top." But she went on to explain that when an Iranian would end up "on top," he would soon be executed.
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