Dream of: 24September 2003 "Strangers In The Attic"
I was in the 29th Street House while my father was visiting my mother there. I told them I was going outside for a while, which I did. I went straight to my father's car, where my father had a baggie of marijuana. Even though I already had a couple joints of my own, I took a joint from my father's baggie and I went back inside the House. I proceeded to smoke one of my joints (not the one from my father's baggie) right in front of my parents. My only concern was that my father would realize I was smoking my own marijuana, and not some of his (because he didn't mind my smoking marijuana from his baggie, but I wasn't supposed to have any of my own).
After I had smoked the joint, I again walked back outside. As I was standing there, I saw a turtle which looked as if it had been run over by a car. I recalled that I had earlier seen this turtle in the street. Now it was a smashed bloody mess. It was still alive, however, and trying to move. As I watched the turtle, it seemed to improve, and finally it seemed to be almost completely healed. Now the animal began to look more like a small pretty brown and white puppy.
The puppy ran into the House and I followed it as it ran all the way up into the attic. All kinds of stuff was sitting around the spacious attic, which had several different rooms. I soon realized that someone was in the attic. Whoever was here had rearranged the whole attic and had even set up some offices. I finally found a person and discovered that dogs were begin bred in the attic. The people were from another country.
I was a bit frightened to think that someone had actually set up shop in the attic. I ran back downstairs. I was afraid my father had already left, but when I hollered out for him, he answered. He didn't want to talk, however, because he was lying on the couch and getting ready to take a nap. I blurted out that I had something very important to tell him -- and I gasped that someone was in the attic.
He immediately jumped up and came to attention. He wanted details. I started explaining what I had seen up there. I also showed him a small brochure which I had picked up while I had been in the attic. In the brochure was a picture of a man named David Gardner, a very tall, lanky fellow (about 50 years old). There was something intimidating about his picture.
I told my father I thought I had known this same David Gardner about 10 years ago. At that time I had also been thinking of breeding dogs and I had talked with him on the phone. Other than that, I had no connection with him, and I couldn't conceive of why he would be in the attic.
This was a real mystery. My father and I pondered what we should do. I was thoroughly at a loss.
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