Dream of: 09 August 2003 "Climbing The Tower"
While Carolina (probably in her early 20s) and I were sitting in an open-air restaurant, a woman walked up and sat across the table from us. She had blonde hair and was wearing a small back pack. Quite friendly, the woman talked about her intention to climb some kind of tower – we could see the tower in the distance, a metal structure like a power tower or communication tower, the kind simply made of steel beams. The woman talked a short while, then abruptly jumped up and took off in a flurry.
Carolina and I also stood and walked out onto the street. A couple of well-marked Dalmatians were crossing the street. They were off-leash. Some people on bicycles were following them, obviously the owners. As they continued down the street, I wished Picasso were with us so he could play with them.
As we walked, we kept our eye on the tower. We couldn't see the bottom half of the tower because the view was blocked by buildings. But suddenly we saw her – the woman; she was half-way up the tower. Her method of climbing was distinctly peculiar – she seemed to be sliding, then pulling herself up one beam after the other, rapidly ascending.
She was in a hurry because she was being pursued – two men dressed in yellow plastic suits were chasing her. Obviously climbing the tower was prohibited and the authorities were trying to stop her. One man was below her, climbing up after her. The other man was higher up on the tower – he must have flown in by helicopter – and he was trying to cut her off. She had to climb as fast as she could to avoid him.
A small round platform near the top of the tower was obviously her goal. Carolina and I watched with bated breath as she raced toward the platform. Incredibly she reached it. I was amazed. She pulled herself up onto the platform, stood up and raised both arms up into the air in triumph. However, – as I watched in disbelieving shock – when she raised her arms she bent back too far, last her balance, and toppled backward off the platform. Her body crashed down through the girders, striking one after the other; her body began breaking up, pieces splattering off (I thought I saw her head come off) as she crashed down out of sight.
Carolina and I stumbled into another open-air restaurant and sat down at a table with a black-haired woman across from us. Still in shock, I began telling the woman what we had just seen, and how we had just met the woman a while earlier in a restaurant similar to this one. The images of the falling woman flashed over and over in my mind. I tried to describe to the woman what Carolina and I had seen. The woman listened indulgently, vaguely interested in the tragedy.
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