Dream of: 27 September 2003 "Taunting"

I was sitting in a classroom filled with little school desks. A woman teacher wearing an old-fashioned dress was sitting at a desk in front of the room. I moved from the left side of the room from my perspective to the center of the room toward the front. I hadn't brought the book for this class with me; I thought I had left it in my locker. I had brought some other books, however, and had put them on the floor under my desk. They had been pushed back under the desk behind me.

The teacher talked but I couldn't hear her as well as I had the previous day because today an air conditioning unit was running over my head and making too much noise. I said something about the air conditioner to the fellow next to me and he agreed. I began moving my desk back until I had moved to the rear of room in between two other rows.

It was dark back there. Only one other student was back there, a black-haired girl, probably 17-18 years old. Very attractive, she was sitting on my right. I was very close to her. I began talking to her and asked her about the teacher. She said the teacher like to "taunt" students. I rolled the word over in my mind; it wasn't a word I normally used.

The girl moved her body toward me, letting her foot rest on my foot. Our hands were right next to each other. I was concerned what the teacher might think. I asked the girl, "Will she object to our sitting so close together?"

The girl replied, "No."

I said, "Well then there's nothing to stop us."

I slipped my fingers through hers and held her hand. She was leaning toward me. I thought I might even caress her breast. I wondered what the girl thought of me. From outward appearances I was probably a decent upright looking fellow. She would have no idea of what all I had done in my life, especially drugs. But of course maybe she was also not as innocent as she looked; maybe she had a long hidden history. Would it be better not to tell people about my past? I could say I had never done drugs and no one would know.

Leland came to mind. I could be like him, if someone asked him whether he had ever used drugs he would probably say no; but I wondered if that were true. At any rate, I didn't want to be like Leland. I would have to tell the truth. As I pondered the question, I realized I had been dreaming; the entire episode in the classroom had been nothing more than a dream.


I was walking along Highland Avenue in Portsmouth right on the corner where Sussie used to live. I was thinking over the dream, thinking I should write it down. I could still remember some of the exact words of the conversation I had had with the girl, such as "taunt." I liked to write down such spoken phrases as quickly as possible so I wouldn't forget the exact words. I rummaged through my right pocket for something to write on. I was also thinking I had had other dreams in the night which I had already forgotten and hadn't written down; but with dream-writing it was important to write down what you could remember and not dwell on what was forgotten; so I needed to write everything down quickly.  I found a slip of paper in my pocket, a prescription which the teacher in the classroom had given me; but it wasn't big enough to write on. I found a piece of orange ceramic pottery, which looked like the lid to something, only a couple centimeters long, but it looked big enough to write the phrases on anyway. I pulled out a pen, sat down on a ledge which ran along the sidewalk, and began writing.

Suddenly I was interrupted. A woman with several dogs had come walking along. Since Picasso was with me and he was off the leash, I had to call him to me. Two of the other dogs looked like Dalmatians. I asked the woman how old the Dalmatians were and she said they were several years old. Then I realized they couldn't be full-bred Dalmatians because they were so small. I had thought they were puppies.

Some other people with dogs came along and some of the dogs began fighting. Picasso stood to the side and I explained that he wouldn't fight, that he would hide. Finally the fighting stopped without any of the dogs being injured. Everyone was taking their leave when I noticed a big brown step-van had stopped at the stop sign on the corner; a Dalmatian was lying under the front right wheel of the van. I jumped in front of the van and began screaming "No! No! No!"

The van slowly moved forward. I couldn't see anyone driving the van. I thought the driver must be able to drive the van from the rear. The van ran all the way over the dog; then the dog stood up. I didn't see how it could survive. I thought I saw a little blood. When no one else seemed to care, I became angry. I thought the driver had run over the dog on purpose.

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