Dream of: 07 March 1999 "Donna Is Dead"
Donna was dying. I had first met Donna on an Internet newsgroup called alt.dreams, where we had both been posting our dreams. Over the two years I had known Donna, we had become friends. But five days ago, something had happened to her. Technically, she was already dead. Her heart had stopped and she had stopped breathing. However, I was under the impression I still might be able to revive her.
I had been carrying her around for the five days. Now, I held her in my hand and looked at her. She was only about five centimeters long. I still thought I might be able to revive her, the way some people who drown are later revived. In fact, I thought she might have died by drowning. But suddenly I realized it was too late, that there was nothing I could do. Maybe if I had acted sooner, it might have been possible to save her. But clearly, five days was too long. There was nothing that would bring her back to life now. It was hard to accept. Just such a short time ago she was alive; and now she was gone.
I thought about the people on the alt.dreams newsgroup who used to read Donna's dreams. No one would know Donna had died. I should probably write a message to the group and tell them of Donna's death. I thought I would title the message, "Donna Has Died," or "Donna Is Dead." I would have to make sure when I wrote the message that people would understand that I was writing about an actual event and not one of my dreams.
I was standing in the back yard of a house, and in the yard next door, on the other side of a wire fence, was Donna's sister. When I realized the sister wanted to talk to me, I started walking toward her. At the same time I slipped Donna into my back right pants pocket, thinking the sister didn't yet know about Donna's death, and that I wasn't quite ready to tell her.
But when I reached the fence, before I could speak to the sister, a priest who had been standing behind the sister stepped up to the fence and addressed me. He quickly informed me that he would like me to help him with something, and that in order to do so, I would need to act as if I were somebody else. He said he would first show me what he meant. He then began walking in front of me, putting on a face as if he were very angry with someone. As I watched him, I at first thought he wanted me to do the same thing, to act as if I were angry with someone. But suddenly I realized something else was going on here. What the priest was actually doing was acting as if he were I. His little act was quite revealing. He seemed to be trying to tell me I sometimes acted like this, as if I were very angry with someone. I was sorry to see this. I couldn't remember a time when I felt like this, so angry with someone. But I wondered if I sometimes looked as if I were angry, even though I were not. Perhaps I was giving people the wrong impression of how I really felt about them.
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