Dream of: 22 November 2001 "Hearts And Homes"

Curled up and half-awake, I was lying on the concrete driveway of an imposing brick building where I had been living in New York City. A carriage, pulled by a black horse, entered the driveway. A man walking on the other side of the horse was leading it. The carriage appeared to be headed straight toward me. I tried to holler to warn the man that I was lying in the driveway, but my voice was so weak, it was barely audible. I managed to yell, Help!", just as the carriage rolled over me.

The carriage was so high, it didn't touch me, and since I was in the middle of the driveway, the wheels didn't hit me. The horse wasn't in front of the carriage, as might be expected, but in the rear, so the horse likewise didn't trample me. However, I was concerned that if the carriage continued moving, the horse would reach me and trample me. I thought of grabbing onto the bottom of the carriage and letting the carriage pull me so the horse wouldn't trample me. Fortunately, however, the carriage stopped. Again I tried to holler for help, but the man didn't hear me. Finally, after a struggle, I pulled myself out from under the carriage and I stood up. I said something to the man, who was standing on the other side of the horse from me, but he still didn't hear me. The man (probably 50 years old) was dressed in black; he looked as if he might be deaf and blind.

I turned and walked toward the entrance of the building, which seemed to be part of a school. I didn't say anything else because my situation there was rather tenuous. Although I had been paying rent for a room in the building, I was uncertain I was actually allowed to stay there at night, because a sign in front of the building said everyone must leave by eight o'clock. However, since I had seen other students staying all night in their rooms, I likewise had begun doing so.

Caddy-cornered from this building stood a white building, in front of which quite a few people had gathered; I could hear bits and pieces of what they were saying; they were speaking German. I specifically heard the word "Duden." I concluded that some Germans had come there for a visit, and that the people were talking about how they would treat the Germans. The people talked about how they would invite the Germans into their "Hearts and Homes."

***

I was walking around the streets of New York, thinking about where I was living and about what had just happened to me. I recalled I was paying $600 a month for my room, much more than I had previously been paying when I had been living with my mother, where I had been paying only $300 monthly. But I could do so much more in my present location than with my mother. I thought about the people who had been speaking German on the corner of the street, and I began thinking in German myself. Thinking in German was an example of the difference in living here and living with my mother – when I lived with her, I tended not to think in other languages; but when I was away from her, I reverted to other languages. As I tried to remember what I had heard the German-speaking people say, it seemed as if I were trying to recall a dream, and suddenly – I realized the entire episode with the Germans and the horse-drawn carriage had been a dream. I concentrated more, realizing I needed to write down the dream. I specifically recalled having heard the German word "Duden" and I thought to myself this word meant "doubts " in English. But the words on which I focused were "Hearts and Homes" – those had been the last words I had heard in the dream. I decided that when I wrote the dream, I would title it "Hearts and Homes."

What interested me most about the dream, however, was the carriage running over me. I knew I had compiled a list of dreams in which horses had appeared; this dream would become the latest dream on the list. My horse dreams had taken on special significance to me because I had begun to believe horses often symbolized art or the spirit of art in my dreams. So what did this dream mean? What did a horse trampling over me mean?

The streets I was walking were rather crowded. Suddenly my attention was drawn to a small round table sitting on the sidewalk. No one was sitting at the table, but on the table lay a white paper-back book. I walked up to the table and touched the book. It was by the writer Karl Marx and was titled Lords and [something else]; I had never heard of this book.

A black fellow (probably in his early 20s) walked up and put his hand on the book; obviously the book belonged to him. Only now did I realize the book wasn't a paper-back book, but a hardcover text book; and the book wasn't written by Marx, but was a text book about the book which Marx had written. I could now see that the book was filled with maps and diagrams which described the book which Marx had written. Only now did I realize I was standing in front of a rather exclusive school; I had previously heard of this school. Apparently one of the classes in the school was completely devoted to a single book written by Marx. The book certainly looked interesting. The black fellow looked at me and said, "Do you know Karl Marx?" I could tell from his question that he was obviously a foreigner, probably from Africa. I mused that people learning English often asked if you "know" a writer instead of have you "read" a writer. I responded that I had read some of Marx's writings, but that I hadn't read this particular book. I turned away and walked on.

Almost immediately, another black fellow (about 20 years old) approached me. He and I were already acquainted. He was about 30 centimeters shorter than I. We sat down next to each other on a concrete bench. He quickly began asking me if I knew of any houses for sale – he wanted to buy one. I was surprised; I hadn't known he had any money; and there in New York, houses would be quite expensive. I asked him how much money he wanted to invest. I deliberately said "invest" instead of "spend." My question was a delicate one; most people didn't like to talk about their finances with other people, but since the fellow seemed to be asking my advice, I felt somewhat in the role of a counselor. If he answered my question, I would know he trusted me. He seemed to hesitate at first, but finally answered, "Thirteen thousand."

I was surprised by the small amount. I quickly told him thirteen thousand would hardly be sufficient, and I mentioned that a house would probably cost in the neighborhood of two hundred thousand dollars. However, at the same time I was thinking perhaps he and I could pool our money and buy a house together. Such a project would be risky because we would be tied to each other. We would have to find a cheap house and fix it up; but it seemed possible. Suddenly, however, the fellow's attention was distracted by another black fellow who walked by. I had the feeling that the new fellow had just arrived in town and that the fellow with me was surprised to see him. The fellow next to me jumped up and without saying anything else to me, walked over to the new fellow.

I also stood up; but my feet weren't on ground. I was barefoot and my feet were vertically clinging to the bottom of the bench. I was able to cling to the side of the bench with my bare feet bent straight down as if I were standing on my toes, but my toes weren't touching the ground; the soles of my feet were simply clutching the bottom side of the concrete bench behind me. My position was nothing less than remarkable. I wondered if anyone were watching me. I saw an attractive woman nearby and I wondered if she were impressed. I could probably impress her more if I were to launch off the bench and fly straight out into the air.

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