The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual facts
Dream of: 05 January 1999 "Is Anyone Here?"
I had my own boat, which I was piloting from town to town. The boat was probably more than 30 meters long and resembled a barge or tugboat. Painted black and white, the boat was clean and in good condition. As I floated along, sitting in the tower, I felt at home steering my boat along the streets, all filled with water. I had just arrived in a town where I planned to stop for a while, and I was looking for a place to park. I turned the boat down a side street, and when I saw an empty spot, I pulled in next to the curb. Parked on the other side of the street was another boat that appeared to be a boat/fire truck. The large red boat was quite impressive, and I felt comforted to know that such a boat was in the neighborhood.
After descending from the boat to the ground, I quickly made my way to my destination a house which I used in this town. Although I didn't visit this town often, I kept a house here to use when I came. Carolina would also be arriving later and would be meeting me at the house.
The house (which resembled the Logan Street House) was a one-story cottage, painted white. As I stepped up on the concrete porch, I immediately became alarmed because the front door was standing wide open. I didn't think that Carolina would have already arrived, and I was worried that someone might have broken into the house. I was more concerned when I saw the two small dogs (which we kept at the house) standing on the porch. Both dogs were very tiny, only about 15 centimeters long. One was mostly black and the other was mostly white. I bent over, saying, "Hey, feller", and petted the black dog. But its body felt lumpy, as if it had been mistreated. Then I noticed the white dog had a bloody gash on its back. Obviously, something wasn't right here.
Just as I was about to step inside, I turned around and looked back again over the porch. I was now surprised to see that a man was lying on the porch, right in front of the front steps. His back was turned toward me so I couldn't see his face, but he appeared to be in his late 30s. He was dressed in dark green and appeared to obviously be a homeless bum. I wanted him to leave immediately. I figured this was the kind of person who must have broken into my house. I walked over to him and nudged him off onto the steps. But he still didn't leave, and I had to push him further to dislodge him from the steps. Even though he still didn't stand up and completely leave, I thought at least he was harmless and he wouldn't bother anyone.
I walked back to the front door and peered inside. I half expected the house to be cleaned out, with everything having been stolen. But to my surprise all the furniture still appeared to be in place. The television was sitting in a corner to my right and was turned on. So obviously, someone must be staying here.
I walked on through the front room and down the hallway toward the rear of the house. All the while I was calling out, "Is anyone here? Is anyone here?"
No one answered and it was beginning to appear that the house was empty. But I still felt very uneasy. I wished I had my .38 caliber handgun with me. I had owed the gun for many years, and knew I would feel safer in this situation if I had it in my hand. If Carolina were here, she would also need a gun. But I was slowly realizing I wouldn't feel comfortable letting Carolina stay in this house. The whole idea of having a house like this – which I only occasionally visited – was beginning to seem more and more unworkable. Having the house was beginning to look like a bad idea, an idea which I would probably have to abandon.
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