Dream of: 23 June 2002 "Hoax"
I had been watching a television show about the long border of southwest China. Aerial shots of the area portrayed a desert consisting of high undulating sand-dunes. I became so absorbed in the scene, I actually found myself sitting atop one of the immense dunes. The sand was so soft and fine. I had never been on top of a desert sand dune like this; could I slide down the side? I began an exhilarating slide down the slope of the sand-dune. The sand seemed to become coarser the farther I descended.
I stood up at the bottom. What would I do now? Which side of the border was I on? If I were in China, I could be in trouble. I needed to quickly figure out where I was and exit from here. I climbed back up another sand-dune; maybe from the top I could find a better view. As soon as I reached the top, I could see two short men in brown uniforms off in the distance; probably soldiers. But to my deep relief, right at the bottom of the other side of my dune stood a group of perhaps 50 men, all dressed in colorful clothing, hard at work digging (it seemed as if the television show had said something about mining along the border). From the colorful clothing I concluded that these people couldn't be in China, that I was still in a free country. I immediately descended to the group of workers.
When I reached them, I approached a tall thin black man (about 40 years old). Just as I stepped up to him, I noticed a small nearby river which was between this group of workers and the area where I had seen the two brown-uniformed men. I asked the black man which direction I needed to go to get out of here and I asked him the name of the river. He said it was the Rio Grande. I could hardly believe my ears. I was not in China at all! I immediately saw what had happened – the television show had simply been showing pictures of an area along the Rio Grande in Texas; this area was similar to an area in China and could be used to dupe the television audience into believing the pictures were from China. I blurted out the story to the black man, about how I had been watching the show, and the hoax which had been perpetrated.
The black man then asked me how I had come to be here. When I pondered his question, I was rather perplexed myself. I remembered watching the show, and I remembered the aerial scenes. I concluded I must have been on a jet; and then I must have simply jumped out of the jet. As I began reconstructing in my mind the chain of events, I could actually remember being on the jet; but I couldn't quite remember having jumped off. What would I say to the black man? A jet probably traveled at a thousand miles an hour; surely I couldn't have survived such a jump. Maybe I could say the jet slowed down to one hundred miles an hour and I had jumped out into the soft sand; that sounded plausible. I could almost envision my having done so.
Copyright 2002 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
