Dream of: 22 July 1997 "Dream Writing"

I was in an old two-story frame house where I had been living for quite a while. I was sharing the house with a man and his wife, who were living together in a room on the first floor. The door to their room had been closed for quite a while, and since I hadn't seen them lately, I was beginning to wonder if they were even still living in the house. The woman was a doctor, a tall slender blonde (probably in her late 30s). She somewhat reminded me of a beautiful young woman named Kay whom I had once met in Columbus, Ohio. I had talked with the woman doctor several times, and had soon formed a friendship with her. I had even found myself falling in love with her. The feelings deepened after I showed her some of my dreams and she had read them. She had obviously found the dreams interesting, and I had thought she also had feelings for me. However, I hadn't seen her now for quite a while. I thought she might be avoiding me because of her husband. I had never seen him, but I knew that his name was Kent, and that he lived in the room with the woman.

The woman had reminded me of Leah, who I thought was also a medical doctor. During this same period, I had also fallen in love with Leah, and I thought it interesting that I had fallen in love with two doctors. I understood that having feelings for married women was futile, and I didn't intend to pursue the women. I had no intention of having an affair with them, but I would like to again see the woman who had been living in the house. However, I was no longer sure she was even living in the house. I thought I might be able to at least determine if she were still living in the house if I would check in the kitchen (which we shared) to determine whether she was storing any food there.

I walked into the kitchen and headed to the old icebox (only about 60 centimeters tall) which sat there. I stooped over to the low icebox, and as soon as I opened it, a small cellophane package fell onto the floor. The package contained something which looked like small red radishes, about the size of cranberries. Numerous other packages neatly wrapped in white paper were also in the icebox. Clearly the woman was still living in the house and using the icebox. I picked up the cellophane bag which had fallen on the floor and put it back in the icebox. But I immediately realized I might not have put the package in the same place where it had been, and the woman thus might be able to detect that someone had been looking in the icebox.

All the food in the icebox was health food, and I recalled the woman and her husband only ate health food. They were so different from me. My diet had no discipline to it. I ate whatever came to me. Unlike me, this woman was perfect in many ways. I shut the door to the icebox and stood back up. I was glad to know the woman was still living in the house. I didn't need to see her. But I still wondered what she had thought about me when she had read all my dreams.

I thought about how Donna had sent me many of her dreams which I had read. Donna and I both liked to read and write dreams. I wondered what Donna would think if she knew I had fallen in love with two different doctors in the last few months. When I compared Donna to the doctors, I could see Donna wasn't as disciplined or as devoted as the doctors. The two doctors had directed lives, whereas Donna's life had been fairly undirected and without purpose. But I could also see a change in Donna brought about writing her dreams; Donna's writing seemed the one activity which brought purpose to her life. I couldn't yet determine whether Donna would stick to writing dreams or whether she would return to her directionless life, but I thought the dreams brought meaning to her life and I hoped she would continue writing. I understood why she wrote dreams. Donna was the only other person whom I knew who might share my calling in life – writing dreams. I knew that the calling for her was much more recent than for me and that dream writing for me was more established. Therefore, I was unsure Donna would continue writing; but writing dreams looked like the one activity which could set Donna even above the doctors.

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