Dream of: 14 March 2009 "Unimpressed"

As I was standing behind the Gallia County Farmhouse, I looked down to the bottom of the hill and saw perhaps 20 black people down there, along with a few whites. It looked as if they might be having a cook-out, but the whites and blacks didn't seem to be mingling together. I thought my father must be allowing people to visit the Farm, maybe even live there.

Thinking I might like to impress the people, I decided to fly around over top of them. I had difficulty starting, and I reflected that I needed a place to launch from, such as the second story of a house, or off the side of a hill. The higher the launch location, the better I would be able to take off. Observers would also be more impressed by my launching out from a high position. Nevertheless, even though I was on the ground, I finally managed to rise into the air and ascend higher and higher, until I approached an impediment of electric wires, many more than normal. I successfully avoided the wires until I was quite high. I was high above the old tobacco barn and I could see my pet Dalmatian Picasso running along following me on the ground below. Although he had become feeble as of late and could no longer run well, he was keeping up with me.

From my height I decided to swoop down where the people were. Even though I executed a rapid descent into their midst, no one paid the slightest attention to me as I landed. I immediately walked into a barn-like building (the whole side of the building was open) and saw about five women (probably in their 30s and 40s) sitting on the ground in the back around a little fire. I walked to them and sat down. I felt relatively comfortable in their presence.

When I saw Picasso outside the building I hollered for him. He didn't hear me at first, but then he heard me and headed inside. I asked the women, "Is it alright if he comes in?"

All the women except one seemed to give their permission. The woman sitting next to me, however, said, "No."

I looked at her. Next to her was a black and white dog which she was petting. Irked, I said something about the dog she was petting. Unwilling to start an argument, I simply stood, intending to leave. As I headed out, I heard one of the other women complain that she couldn't understand why I couldn't bring my dog if the other woman had her dog in there. I said, "Fuck that," and I walked out to Picasso.

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