Dream of: 03 May 2006 (2) "Injured Dog"

I had gone to see a two-story house which I had bought. My pet Dalmatian Picasso was with me. The house was in bad shape. I stepped inside and walked around, assessing it. I picked up a phone and talked a little with Carolina about the house. A little radio began playing in the room. In the process of sorting out a bunch of wires connected to the phone, I lost my connection with Carolina.

I thought I heard something outside, and I went back out. I was surprised to see a fellow up on the second story of the house. He appeared to be taking something off the house. I angrily asked him what he was doing. Then I noticed a second fellow with the first fellow. Both appeared to be taking something off the house. I thought of telling them to leave, but they were carrying some heavy tools which worried me. Besides, they looked rough. I thought they might have lived in the house before I had bought it.

More and more people gathered around. Soon 30-40 people dressed in black leather were standing around. They appeared to be part of a motorcycle gang. I noticed a motorcycle place across the street.

Suddenly, a man grabbed me and held me. Five or six more members of the gang were standing in a line in front of me. They were all wearing gruesome black hoods so I couldn't see their faces.

Picasso was running around not far from me. I wanted to reach him because I was afraid someone might hurt him. I begged the man holding me to let me go and I promised I would come back. He let me go and I ran over to Picasso (who was in a little children's playground area). He was lying on his back with his tongue hanging out and he wouldn't turn over. Suddenly I saw that he had a big gash on his back. I picked him up in my arms, carried him, and moaned, "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

I couldn't believe it. Even though I had told the man who had been holding me that I would come back, I tried to make my way to my white Escort. As I approached the car, however, I realized I had left my keys inside the house. I didn't know what I was going to do to get Picasso out of there, but I needed to immediately take him to a vet -- he was in bad shape. 

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