Web Of Dreams

 My life has no more meaning than an abandoned spider's web in one of my dreams. I search for meaning in that scrap of web in hopes of finding meaning in my life. I thought if I focused on my dreams in which spiders and their webs appeared, the meaning of spiders in dreams would reveal itself to me like a flash of light. Indeed, dozens of interpretations of spiders have appeared to me, yet none alone has satisfied me. My spider-dreams have, however, influenced my understanding of the nature of stories and the importance of extracting the story from the spider-dreams.

Dream of: 07 June 1983 "In The Spider's Web"

reality is meant to be enjoyed

My girlfriend Louise and I had moved to Puerto Rico.

While she and I were standing near a muddy area in the backyard of a house, I saw a spider - about a centimeter long - hanging from a tree. After catching the thread on which the spider was hanging, I was able to hold up the spider by the thread. Each time the spider raced up the thread toward my hand, I would raise my hand, whereupon the spider would spin out more thread, always failing to reach my hand. I twirled the spider's strong thread around my fingers. Once the thread was wrapped around my fingers, I couldn't even move them.

The spider finally leaped to one of the trees and hung on the tree for a while. As the spider continued jumping from place to place, I could see the spider's thread, but I lost track of the spider. When I did see the spider again, it didn't even look like a spider but like some other small bug. I watched it in amazement. When the spider finally fell into the mud, I reached into the mud, picked up the thread with the spider hanging on it, and threw the spider back up into the trees.

Little boys were playing in the mud nearby.

I walked over to Louise, who was talking about some flies which she called "caymans." She said the flies had gotten into an orange juice bottle or a pop bottle and then the flies had been poured into a commode where they had multiplied until the commode was black with flies.

She said that she didn't like those kind of bug-flies, but that she had liked the little spider with which I had been playing.

She asked someone in the backyard what time the radio came on. I think she said that she had been listening to Spanish music while she had been in Puerto Rico and that she couldn't believe the radio came on so early in the morning. Someone responded, "Yea its on all the time." I thought listening to the radio would be a good way for Louise to learn Spanish.

I looked down at my feet; I had used a red pen to make red marks on my toe nails. I had also made black marks in the middle of the toenails. I thought perhaps I should put on some socks since being seen with painted toenails probably wouldn't be good.

The story begins with my belief that my dreams are not created by myself, but by a superior intelligence which I sometimes refer to as "Dreammaker." I do not have concrete proof of the existence of the Dreammaker. My main argument is my certainty that I do not create my dreams myself, and my conviction that the dreams nevertheless show elements of design which could only be created by some form of conscious intelligence. The central purpose of the design seems to be to convey messages to my conscious waking mind.

Dream of: 12 December 1983 "Frozen Spiders"

reality often becomes tangled in illusion

As I walked along Valley Mills Drive in Waco, Texas, I admired the construction of the new Westview National Bank building. Large granite blocks had been erected about ten stories high on one side of the building and windows were to the right and the left of the granite blocks.

On another side of the building - which consisted of blue glass panes - were small white specks about the size of the face of my watch. I wondered if someone would have to climb a ladder to reach the specks to scrape them off.

I tried to remember what had occupied the land before the bank had been built there and I thought several buildings had been bulldozed to make way for the more important bank.

I thought the building of the new bank was not yet complete. Mounds of dirt had been piled up for a curb along the side of a driveway to the bank, but the concrete hadn't been poured yet for the driveway. As I walked along the curb - which seemed to be made of sand - I feared I would damage the curb. Finally I sat down along the curb.

I looked down at the ground and saw holes containing black spiders and I watched other spiders running into one hole. A couple spiders looked as if they had been smashed, while some looked as if they were frozen and were so cold that they could hardly move. More spiders ran into the holes. I was unsure whether the spiders had constructed the holes and I thought perhaps crabs had originally built the holes.

I saw a sailboat in the distance and I contemplated the beauty of sailboats and I mused about how I would like to be on one. I rose and walked in the direction of the boats until I reached a body of water with several boats, then boarded a motor boat and rode over the water past several other motor boats until I abruptly toppled out of the boat into the water. The boat cart-wheeled over the water until it landed on the shore. As I swam toward the boat, I noticed another fellow likewise swimming toward it. He reached the shore first, walked to the boat and retrieved it. The boat was so small - only about 30 centimeters long - that he was able to pick it up in one hand.

I realized the fellow was Dave Weisner, someone with whom I had attended high school and whom I hadn't seen since then. I said, "Thanks."

He answered, "Nothing to it," jumped back into the water and swam off.

I pulled a cord which was attached to the boat's motor in an attempt to start it. I was unsuccessful at first and the cord repeatedly became tangled. When the motor finally started, I realized the boat looked more like a small wire-framed fan which I could hold in the palm of my hand. When the cord became wrapped around the fan's blades, I tried to disentangle the cord even as the blades spun around. Finally I set the fan down on the shore.

Yet even the design in my dreams is elusive, just as dreams themselves are so fleeting and evanescent. The design of dreams, however, is on a par with other designs found in nature, such as the design of a spider web, for example. Just as matter and energy have certain designs, so my dreams are constructed with design. Although my dreams might seem chaotic, closer observation will reveal an unevenly ordered structure which also approximates the structure of a story. Thus an understanding of stories helps in the understanding of dreams.

Dream of: 13 July 1986 "Golden Spider"

reality has a definite design

In my old home town of Portsmouth, Ohio, I was talking with Roger Anderson (with whom I attended high school) about Steve Buckner (with whom I also attended high school). Roger told me that Steve had apparently taken some vows, had stopped drinking alcohol and had reformed immensely. I was surprised. The vows sounded similar to ones I had taken.

I thought that Steve was working on a master's degree in sociology, but that he still needed to write a thesis which he had begun but had never completed. Roger said Steve planned to get a job and we agreed that Steve could probably work for the government, perhaps doing family planning or planning county roads or something of that sort. We hoped Steve wouldn't simply start doing odd jobs around town.

My mother and I went to visit Steve at his parents' home on Sherman Avenue in Portsmouth. Steve's father, Mr. Buckner, was there and Mr. Buckner led my mother out into the yard where she gathered pink roses. Meanwhile, Steve and I sat down in the front room.

 When Steve told me that he was going to be raising some kind of bug which resembled a golden spider (although the bug wasn't a spider) and that the bug was supposed to weave a golden thread, I didn't know what to think. After he walked out of the room and left me alone, I lay down on a bed, looked up on the wall above me, and saw a golden bug on the wall. The bug was about two centimeters long and had a long body with several legs sticking out on both sides. The bug appeared to be artificial and had a little light attached to its body which blinked on and off.

As the bug moved out from the wall, it created a rigid, golden stick much the way a spider creates a web. The golden stick seemed to have joints, like a piece of bamboo. As the bug continued across the room, it seemed to grow smaller while the stick grew progressively larger in diameter. The bug continued creating the stick until it reached the opposite wall, where it attached the stick to the wall.

I was spellbound. The stick appeared to be pure gold and began expanding in diameter. I thought about reaching up to touch the stick, the color of which changed so that it appeared turquoise in places. In the area where the stick had been attached to the opposite wall, the stick appeared to be growing into a large throbbing porcelain lamp - about a meter long - still parallel to the floor. The lamp was connected to the wall at the base and to the rest of the stick at the top. The base of the lamp apparently would have to be snapped from the wall and the top of the lamp would have to be snapped from the rest of the stick in order to produce an actual lamp.

The lamp displayed quite an artistic design and I was amazed to think the bug had somehow created a design on the lamp. Eagles appeared on the design. Upon closer scrutiny, I could see pictures of Donald Duck, Daffy Duck and Goofy at a picnic scene.

I couldn't understand how an animal, such as that bug, could have acquired the information to make such a design, but apparently the bug knew something about humans.

I rose and walked into the next room looking for Steve so I could tell him what had been happening. After I saw Steve's sister Jeannie, I found Steve and told him about the bug. When I led him back into the room and asked him if he had ever seen such a thing as the creation of the lamp, he said he had seen it happen a number of times.

He walked over to the lamp and looked at the design. Apparently the designs were always different and he wanted to see what kind of design this particular lamp had. After he saw the design he turned around and walked out of the room. I then noticed another bug on the wall. It looked like the first one except it had a different colored light, a pink light attached to it.

This story is not about individual dreams, but about the extraction of a story from the assemblage of spider-dreams. Before I assembled these spider-dreams, I had an imprecise inkling of how to extract meaning from the assemblage. I thought the dreams would somehow connect together and of themselves form a meaningful whole. Such was not the case. Only by concentration and effort was I able to extract and create the story of these spider dreams.

Dream of: 07 September 1986 "Spider-Like Bug"

reality was created by design

I was on my family's large hilly Farm in Gallia County, Ohio. The Farm is traversed by winding Symmes Creek and Symmes Creek Road. While I was between the creek and the road in one of the fields on the western part of the farm, I decided to shoot some birds with an old buttless .22 caliber rifle which I was carrying. I opened the barrel and put a shell which looked like a red shotgun shell into the rifle.

As I stood on the edge of the creek, I saw a bird in a tree and I fired at it. After the bird tumbled to the ground, I fired more shots and killed at least one other bird which also fell to the ground. I didn't retrieve the birds as they fell, but I mentally noted where they had landed and I thought I would pick them up later. I rather dreaded looking at the birds' dead bodies because I thought I would probably feel guilty about having killed the birds when I saw them dead.

Each shell which I inserted into the rifle could be fired six times. Finally I tried to shoot and nothing happened – the shell was all used up. When I opened the rifle, I thought the empty shell would probably fly out on its own, but it didn't. I had to pull it out. I then stuck in another shell and closed the barrel.

While firing, I had noticed that I had sometimes been cocking the rifle and that sometimes I hadn't. The rifle seemed to fire better when I cocked it before firing.

I spotted some birds in the trees on the other side of the creek and although I thought they were too far away, I sited in on one anyway. From the silhouette of the bird, I thought it was probably a dove. I fired. The bird didn't move at first and I thought I had missed it, but then it started to fly crookedly, and I thought I must have hit it. I regretted my actions when I realized the bird looked like a duck because I hadn't wanted to shoot any ducks. Since I had already winged the bird, however, I thought I had better try to bring it down. I again sited in on the bird and fired, but I apparently missed because the bird continued to fly and even lowered its extremely long legs. Now I thought the bird must be a stork. The more I looked at the bird, the more its legs grew. It looked for a while as if ten long legs might be hanging down. I thought I had made a mistake in having shot that particular bird.

To my surprise, as the bird flew overhead, it began changing colors. Now it didn't look like a bird at all, but like a large round sphere of brilliant colors which seemed to be arranged in rainbow-like lines. I continued trying to sight in on the object to shoot it, but it was too high and moving too fast. Plus I began having trouble firing my rifle. I was finally amazed to see the bright colors on the bird merge together to form a rectangular picture in the sky. Trying to discern the picture, I realized one of the characters on the picture was Charlie Brown from the comic strip "Peanuts." As the object moved across the sky, the picture continued to change. At one point, I noticed the picture of what appeared to be a baboon.

I was quite intrigued that an animal, such as a bird, could make those kind of designs which seemed to me to defy natural law. I knew this wasn't the first time I had experienced the phenomenon. At least twice in the recent past, I had been confronted in dreams with animals able to make human designs. Those times as well I had marveled over the event and I had thought what I had seen hadn't seemed to comport with my understanding of nature.

I remembered one time in particular when, in a dream, I had been at the home of my friend, Steve Buckner, and a spider-like bug had created a lamp with some cartoon pictures on it.

The object I was watching in the sky now seemed to flutter and almost seemed transparent. I vaguely wondered if the object might merely be an apparition and not real at all. Finally the object began loosing its altitude, approached the ground on the other side of the creek and at last it crashed.

Almost at the same time I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle on the road. Since I didn't want anyone to find me there, I thought of jumping into the creek and swimming across. When I saw a place in the creek where I could step on some rocks and cross, I immediately scrambled across the rocks onto the opposite shore.

To my surprise, the vehicle I had heard was on the side of the creek at which I had arrived. As the jeep approached me, I thought it probably contained a forest ranger.

I walked over to where the object from the sky had crashed. The object had burst into flames when it had hit that ground and it was still burning when I reached it. The ground was charred black in a rectangular area of approximately three by fifteen meters.

The jeep pulled up and two slender blond-haired fellows in ranger uniforms stepped from it. When one said something about homosexuals being in the area, I thought he might be trying to insult me. I almost said something like, "Oh is that why the two of you are driving around here?"

Thinking it would be better not to say that, I refrained. The two men walked up to me and one sat down in the charred area. They asked me what I was doing and I told them I had been shooting birds, even though I was unsure that shooting birds was legal. I told them that my grandfather owned the Farm and that I also lived there part of the year.

Then I spoke of the large object which had fallen, saying, "It was as big as a thousand kites. I mean a hundred kites."

He replied disdainfully, "A hundred kites," in such a way as if to intimate that I had consciously lied when I had said "a thousand kites."

When he asked me about my gun, I showed it to him and explained that it was just an old .22 caliber. He didn't seem to be saying I had actually been breaking any law.

Spiders evoke mystery. The meaning of dreams is such a mystery and to this mystery the spiders lead me. Before the meaning of dreams can be of importance to me, however, I must first be satisfied that my life has some meaning. In order to acquire this kind of meaning, I am positive that I must be immortal. If I am not immortal, my life has no meaning for me. The necessity of immortality for meaning is the one truth which I find to be undeniable and in which I firmly agree. Therefore, my dreams only have meaning for me if I am immortal.

Dream of: 30 April 1989 "Spiders And Prayer"

reality can be destroyed as well as created

After I had climbed into a bathtub to take a bath, I noticed a black spider on a curtain above the tub. I ducked my head under the water, and when I came back up, the spider was no longer on the curtain. Finally I realized the spider was now on top of my head. When I grabbed the spider off my head with my hand, it bit me twice on the finger, until I finally let it fall into the water. I then plucked it out of the water and put it beside the tub.

A green praying mantis approached the spider and took the spider into its mouth. When the praying mantis began eating the spider, a black liquid was exuded from the spider, but the praying mantis proceeded to devour the spider anyway.

Mysteriously the spider has brought me to a question of my beliefs and a realization that I should base my other beliefs upon one solid belief - that I am immortal. My immortality is my fundamental belief, even though I often do not feel immortal. I feel often as if I might die at any moment and as if my death would be the end of my life.

Dream of: 08 September 1990 "The Necessity Of Spiders"

there is no escape from reality

After I heard about a man who intended to build a project which looked like a large water pipe, I looked on a map to see where he lived, then headed for his house, which was difficult to reach because he lived over some rough terrain and far away from everyone. I finally had to climb to the top of a hill, where I found his house. As I walked around outside the house, I could look through the trees and partially see the splendid view of a large city in the valley below.

I walked inside the man's house, where I met the man in the kitchen. He would have nothing to do with me and he brusquely told me to leave. I remained standing until other people entered the kitchen and sat down. When I saw one person who looked like Dale Phillips (a fellow with whom I attended junior high school), I remembered that Dale was the person who had first told me about this man and the man's project. Dale didn't notice me standing there for a while, but when he did notice me, he formally introduced me to the man. Dale explained to the man that I had some particular abilities to do the work which the man needed done and finally the man agreed to hire me.

As I prepared to go to work, I walked into another room to retrieve a towel. When I opened a drawer where the towels were stored, I discovered a spider web in front of the towels, and I knocked it aside. I noticed something caught in the web and I recalled that the spider which had built the web was important for the project on which I was working, and that the web - which had obviously required a long time to build - needed to be there. I took all the towels out of the drawer so I wouldn't have to knock down the web the next time I needed towels. I took my towels into the next room where I found another man who was going to be working closely with me on the project. I told him about the spider web in the drawer and I told him I wouldn't need to tear down the web again because I had taken all my things out of there. He seemed glad to hear that. I also thought in the future I would begin feeding the spiders things, such as flies, by putting the flies in the web for the spider.

Later, the same man and I were walking down a street as we discussed the project. I told him we needed to have certain information, such as the pressure per square inch on such a water pipe. Such info would be important to determine how we would build the water pipe.

Afterward, the man and I decided to enlist in the military service. We boarded a bus in a hurry to reach a destination where combat was going to take place. As I looked more closely at the man, however, I realized that he was actually my wife Carolina. When the bus turned onto a street where I hadn't intended to go, thus making our trip longer, I complained to Carolina that she should have determined beforehand which way the bus would be traveling. Abruptly, however, I realized that I could have found out that information myself, and that I didn't have any right to be complaining to Carolina. I tapped her on the knee and apologized.

I wondered to which base we were traveling. I hoped we weren't headed to a nearby base called Fort Bragg. I wanted to go to another base where I knew all the action was going to take place.

Spiders bring the question of immortality to the forefront of my mind. For me, the message of the spider involves the mystery of life and death. If I am to live after my body dies, where will that place be? I am already sure that there are only two alternatives where my soul will reside when my body dies - in either a physical or a spiritual realm. I am not positive there is a spiritual realm, but there is definitely a physical realm.

Dream of: 07 July 1991 "White Spider"

the reality of the past cannot be denied

My father was talking to me in the kitchen/living room area of the House in Patriot, Ohio (the home of my maternal grandparents when I was a child). He said he had decided I should live with my sister for a while. After listening to him, I finally told him that he no longer made my decisions for me, and that I would live wherever I wanted.

Besides, I told him that my sister knew a girl who was preparing to move in with her (my sister). Since both my sister and the girl were also in the room, I asked the girl what she thought about my moving in with my sister. The girl (probably in her late teens) seemed somewhat pretty, although I wasn't attracted to her. She said she hadn't expected me to move in. She mentioned her boyfriend and how she might get pregnant in six months and such. Her general tone definitely indicated that she didn't want me to move in. I thought to myself that if I wanted to move in, what the girl thought wouldn't make any difference. Even what my sister thought wouldn't make any difference because my father still paid my sister's bills. Nevertheless, I used what the girl said as further evidence of why I couldn't move in with my sister. I asked my sister what the girl's name was and she said, "Sherry."

Actually I was thinking of living in the House in Patriot for a while. When I noticed my grandmother Leacy (who died in 1972 at the age of 71) also sitting in the room, I thought I should spend more time talking with her. She seemed almost catatonic and about the only thing she ever did was prepare food. As I picked up an ear of corn and began eating it, I thought about how I didn't show enough gratitude for what my grandmother did.

As I walked across the room, I knocked a white spider off my pants. I didn't want to kill the spider because I liked spiders. My grandmother followed me, however, and she stepped on the spider on purpose.

I walked into the bathroom, which was on the side of the house facing Bobby and Madeline Saunders' house, about 15 meters away. I could see Madeline on her back porch. She was dressed in something white and red. I pulled down my pants, aroused that Madeline could see me through the large bathroom window. From where I was standing, I could look into a mirror in the bathroom and see Madeline's reflection. I continued watching Madeline through the mirror and I could see the shocked look on her face as she looked in my direction. I decided to even take off the tee shirt which I was wearing and I began pulling it up over my head.

For my spider dreams to tell a story with meaning therefore, my conscious spirit must be reborn in either a spiritual or a physical plane. With wavering degrees of conviction, I believe I am going to be reborn. The profundity of this truth is staggering. I will either be reborn into this physical plane or I will be reborn into a higher spiritual plane. Within both planes the spider sometimes also seems to represent evil.

Dream of: 07 November 1993 "Spiders For The Dead"

death is the ultimate reality of life

Slowly I began to realize that I had died and that I was at my own funeral. All my family was present at the funeral which was being held in a white room in Portsmouth, Ohio.

Even though I was dead, I was still able to stand and walk around among the people. As I mingled with them, I even decided to stand on my head for a while in the middle of the room in front of everybody. I placed my head on the floor and raised my feet up into the air. After staying in the head-stand a short while, I lowered my feet to the ground and stood back up straight.

Someone had brought in a plastic sack containing flowers.

I picked up the sack, looked inside, and saw five or six spiders which had fallen out of the flowers and were lying in the bottom of the sack.

Four or five cute little frogs and one large frog which was making an interesting squeaking noise were also in the sack. It looked as if the frogs might be suffering from lack of air in the sack. Concerned that the frogs might suffocate, I picked up a pin and began sticking holes in the sack to let in air.

While I was poking the holes, my sister walked up to me and said that her mother-in-law wanted the frogs and that her mother-in-law trapped frogs so they could be eaten or sold. Indignant at the thought that my sister and her mother-in-law wanted to eat or sell these frogs, I was determined I wouldn't let them have the frogs. I would prefer to turn the frogs loose in my mother's back yard.

Lying on my back, I began wondering what would happen to me now that I was dead. Would I go to heaven or hell? I really hadn't done anything in my life to merit going to heaven. If I had lived longer, I might have been able to accomplish something. I was only about 40 years old and I hadn't had enough time to do what I was supposed to do with my life. If I wanted to make it to heaven, I needed to live a lot longer. I thought grimly, "I might be going to hell." The thought was alarming, but there was little I could do about it now that I was dead.

As I looked up at the white ceiling above me, I could hear a rumbling sound which I identified as God. Suddenly, in a flash, I realized I wasn't actually dead – it had all been a mistake; everyone just thought I was dead. I continued listening to the low mumbling, thundering sound. Although there were no words, I understood exactly what God was saying. God said expressively, "You must dedicate your life to me." At once I knew if I were going to continue to live, I must dedicate my life to God.

I stood up in the middle of the room. My mother was standing right in front of me. Since I realized it was time to tell everyone that I wasn't dead, I raised my arms straight out from my body. I thought to myself that I could even act as if there were holes in the palms of my hands and cause my hands to bleed; but I didn't want to do that.

As I stood there, everyone gradually began to realize I wasn't dead. I couldn't tell what the people thought, but slowly everyone began to leave. My sister and her in-laws walked outside. The in-laws boarded an old green car which sat close to the ground. Other people also boarded their cars and pulled away.

Not completely convinced of my own immortality, I'm driven to find convincing evidence in my dreams of the existence of the Dreammaker. I still have nothing but myself to tie together all my spider dreams. Maybe that is why I am tempted to say that the spiders in the dreams are representations of myself. I begin to feel as if I am weaving webs with my dreams and that my quarry is the attention of the people who read my dreams. The best way to feed upon that attention is by creating a meaningful story.

Dream of: 28 December 1994 "Yellow Spider"

there is no escape from the reality of death

I had traveled to an area a couple hundred kilometers or more south of Mexico City. I had been traveling over uninteresting highways, but now I had finally reached my destination – a small village tucked away in a scenic area off the highway. I was walking, and as soon as I turned off the highway unto a small road surrounded with dense vegetation, I could feel the difference. The surroundings were lush and primitive, just what I wanted. By the time I made it to the streets of the village, I had decided I would probably stay for about a week, and I hoped to come back on a regular basis. The first thing I needed right now was a place to spend the night.

As I walked past small adobe houses, I hoped to see a sign advertising "Room for Rent," but I quickly reached the end of the street without seeing anything. On both sides ahead of me rose tall mountains. Only now did I notice that the village extended into the valley between the mountains, and that the part of the village in the valley looked much larger and appeared to have some buildings larger than those around me now. I saw a path which looked like a short-cut - off the little road I was treading - to the main part of the village and when a woman walked down the path, I followed her.

Following the woman, I gradually realized we were walking through the white hallways of a large building. The present hallway led through one room after the other, most of which contained beds. I thought the intrusive hallway left little privacy for the people in the rooms, although no one was in any of the beds at the moment. As the woman and I continued walking, I began thinking that these rooms might be for rent and that I might be able to rent one for myself tonight. The rooms, however, were sparsely furnished, and with the lack of privacy, they didn't much appeal to me. I would only take one if nothing better were available. At one point the hallway branched into two directions, one branch going down some steps lower than the other branch. The woman took the lower branch and I took the upper one. I continued on my way alone through the labyrinth trying to find my way out.

Again I found myself walking down a small road surrounded by jungle. I looked back and saw that I had exited the large white building where the many rooms had been. I didn't have a good feeling about that building, and I thought I would only return there if necessary. Ahead of me lay the rest of the village, where I hoped to have better luck. Meanwhile, I noticed the sound of the jungle all around me, especially the parrots in the trees overhead, and I was thrilled at the feeling of being where I was.

I was carrying a back pack on my back, and I thought I also had a sleeping bag. If necessary I could sleep out on the ground, although that thought didn't really appeal to me, especially since there seemed to be large numbers of insects in the area. In my right hand I was carrying a sledge hammer, using it as a walking cane, with the hammer part in my hand. I also noticed I wasn't wearing any shoes, but only socks, a fact which bothered me, because I was concerned about what someone might think when I went inside to rent a room. I didn't know how I would explain my shoeless feet and I knew I needed to buy some nice white tennis shoes as soon as possible. Otherwise, I didn't feel any discomfort from being without shoes.

As I approached the main part of the village, I could see what looked like a warehouse nearby. Through the large open doors of the warehouse I could see men working inside. I also slowly realized that large machines were quickly filling bags with potatoes. Ears of corn were also apparently being bagged. The potatoes would fall down from the machines above into the bags below. I was impressed by how fast the bags were being filled.

Watching the enterprise, I soon began thinking I might be able to use what I was seeing to my advantage. I recalled that the Mexican peso had recently been devalued by 30%, which meant that goods could be bought more cheaply in Mexico. If I, for example, were to buy truckloads of potatoes and haul them to the United States, I should be able to make a handy profit.

The idea intrigued me. I would need to become acquainted with the people in Mexico and establish business relationships. I would then need to find a market for the potatoes in the United States. I realized this village was a long haul from the United States, but if I were going to be traveling to the village anyway, I might as well make a profit at it. I would need a truck and I might have to borrow money to buy one. I didn't think borrowing the money would be difficult, and I began imagining the interview where I would seek the funds. The interviewer, a man dressed in a brown suit, would ask me about myself. I would tell him that I was a lawyer and that I loved the law. I would explain that I wanted to use some of my other skills, such as my knowledge of Spanish. I thought I would get the loan.

When I reached the main part of the village, I was driving my 1985 red BMW. I was slightly disconcerted by being in the car, because I knew I would need a place to park, something with which I hadn't been concerned when I had been walking. I drove past several large buildings, but I didn't see anything which looked like a hotel. Finally, ahead of me on my left, I saw a five or six story building with a hotel sign on it. The building - constructed of brick and probably 50-100 years old - appeared to have been elegant at one time, and I wondered if it had been well maintained inside.

Close to the building was a brick church of an elaborate architectural design. The church had several intricate spires and arches, and might have had writing on it. I thought that the church was quite peculiar and that it might not even be a Christian church. The church made me want to stay in this village and get to know the people more than ever.

I parked the car and stepped out. I was still only wearing socks and I was still concerned by what someone might think. I headed for the building with the hotel sign, wondering how much a room would cost. I thought the room would probably cost about $30 (more than I wanted to spend), but if the hotel were a good one, it would be worth it. When I started to walk into the building, however, I suddenly realized that the first floor of the building had been converted into a hardware store and wasn't a hotel at all. I backed up and looked at the face of the hotel again. I now saw a second sign which said "tercero piso" which apparently meant that the hotel was on the third floor. Also on the sign was a picture of a man pointing to a second entrance. When I looked at the second entrance, I thought I saw a man going through it, so I walked over to it.

When I reached the second entrance, I was immediately surprised. The door was small – only about 20 centimeters wide and 60 centimeters tall. I could see large stone steps inside which led upwards.

I also noticed that spider webs were covering the entrance. The spider webs surprised me since I thought I had just seen someone go through the door. I couldn't figure how a spider could have made a web so fast after that last person had passed through. After I picked up a stick and began tearing down the well formed web, the webbing of which led to the center of the web, I thought I saw a yellow spider scurrying across the web.

As I scraped off the webbing from the stick on a rock next to me, large black ants suddenly appeared and ran up to the web which hang from my stick. Obviously the ants wanted to eat the spider, although I didn't think I had actually captured the spider in the web on my stick. It looked as if the ants weren't interested in eating the web, although I wasn't sure of that. As I scraped the last of the web off the stick, a large brown roach about five centimeters long ran up and bit my left index finger.

I took the stick and pressed it down on the roach to kill it, but to my chagrin, the body of the roach came off, leaving its head attached to my finger. I tried to pull off the head, but it didn't want to come off at first. Finally I did manage to pull the head of the roach off my finger.

As I prepared to pass through the little doorway, I was concerned that my back pack wouldn't fit. My back pack, however, was the least of my worries – my head wouldn't even fit through the doorway. This was indeed a dilemma. How did the hotel hope to have people enter when the doorway was so small?

I backed up, looked again, and saw yet another normal-sized door through which I walked and found myself in a basement pilled full of junk. I headed toward another door at the rear of the basement, hoping that it would lead to the stairs of the hotel.

These dreams mostly contain the story of my everyday normal life which I lived in the United States during this time period. This story often reveals an utter dearth of meaning. I was born, I lived, I died. The search for meaning in that life seems less than primary.

Dream of: 01 February 1998 "Spider At Work"

reality and illusion are ever at odds

Some men and I had sat down to play poker in a shabby little room not far from where I lived. I had previously heard that these men gambled in this room, although this was the first time I had ever joined them. Even this time I didn't actually play and no sooner had we anted up, than we decided to quit. Everyone began taking their ante money back out of the pot. I had originally anted up a dollar by placing a ten dollar bill in the pot and taking out a five and four ones. Now I had to count the five and four ones back out so I could retrieve my ten dollar bill. The counting was tedious and I almost made a mistake and put in a five and five ones. Finally I counted out the right amount and took out my ten again. I was uncertain I would ever return to play with these men again.

As we were breaking up, the subject of the illegality of gambling arose. I mentioned that the degree of the crime depended on the amount of money which was being gambled. If the amount was low enough, the crime might only be a "class C misdemeanor," which carried a fine of only $20. However for larger amounts, a person might be arrested and sent to jail.

As we further discussed gambling, one man mentioned the horse races. I had never been to the horse races or bet any money on horses. However, I tended to think horse races were somewhat like the stock market, and I did have experience in that field. Just recently I had received my tax forms from my stock broker for the previous year with the list of stocks which I had bought and sold. I wondered what these men would think if I told them that I had bought over ten million dollars worth of stock last year. Of course the ten million dollars figure had been a result of my buying and selling stock over and over, and the figure didn't mean I actually had ten million dollars or anywhere near that amount. Although I thought these men would be impressed to hear that I had been so involved in the stock market, I didn't say anything since I thought it best that these men not know any more about my business than necessary.

One man, continuing to discuss the horse races, and stated that wealthy men sometimes bet on long shots at the races. These rich men would follow the news on horses which had heavy odds against them. Sometimes those horses would be taken to different tracks from where they normally ran, and at the new tracks, the horses would have a better chance of winning, so the wealthy men would take a chance and bet on the horses. According to the man talking, these bets sometimes paid off big.

As I tried to follow what the man was saying, I wondered how the odds were determined at horse races. I knew the odds for a particular horse sometimes changed, but I didn't understand the mechanics of those changes. I thought once a betting ticket was purchased, however, the odds for that particular ticket couldn't be altered.

Still concentrating on the odds-making process of horse racing, I found myself in the corridors of the race tracks in the area where the bets were placed. All the betting windows were closed and wouldn't open for another hour. My father had brought me there in his car and had dropped me off and I expected him to return for me later. Meanwhile I decided to walk around and look over the place more carefully.

From where I was, I couldn't see the track. The area where I was walking was similar to the enclosed concrete corridors and walkways behind the seats in the bleachers of circular sports arenas. Since the races wouldn't begin for another hour, I was the only person walking through the corridors at the moment and it looked as if no one else had walked there in a while.

I even encountered an intricate spider web stretched across the corridor. As I slipped by the side of the web, hoping not to knock it down, I realized I had pulled a strand of the web onto me, and that the spider was attached to this particular strand. I clearly saw the spider's bright yellow body and jet-black legs. I tried to knock the spider from me without injuring it, and after several attempts, I was able to swat the spider back onto its web.

When I stopped for a moment to look more closely at the web, I was surprised that the spider had caught several other insects, a couple of which were much larger than the spider. One captured bug looked like a large black tarantula and the smaller yellow spider appeared to be sucking the juice out of the larger ensnared tarantula — a somewhat grizzly sight. As I turned and walked on down the corridor — the sight of the ensnared insects still vivid in my mind — I thought about how all the work of the spider, and probably even the spider itself, would soon be destroyed when the mobs arrived for the horse races and began tramping through the corridor.

I continued walking until I exited the stadium unto a path which appeared to wind around the edifice. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the racetrack had been built on the shore of an immense body of water which stretched off and disappeared into the horizon. I continued walking along the path, which followed the shoreline, with the coliseum-sized racetracks on one side of me and the water on the other. The shore was lined with tree-stumps. The trunks of large trees which had probably been cut down to allow for a view of the water lay partially submerged along the bank. I identified the trees as cypress and I thought it a shame that they had been cut.

A small inlet interrupted the shoreline, but a narrow path lay across the watery mouth of the inlet to the shoreline on the other side. I decided to continue on the path across inlet and I stepped out onto the narrow path. At first I thought the path through the water was simply dirt which had been piled up, but I quickly concluded the path was actually the living trunk of a tree which was growing horizontally on the surface of the water. It looked as if after the trees had been chopped down along the shoreline, some of the trees had been able to continue living by spreading their trunks out along the top of the water.

I had only taken a few steps when I slipped into the water. Luckily the water wasn't even knee-deep, and the only damage was that my brown shoes and the bottom of my pants were soaked. I quickly scrambled back onto the shore and decided to abandon the narrow path.

No sooner had I returned to the shore than I noticed some rocks seemed to be falling down from above. I looked up over-head; I was standing at the base of a tall rocky cliff which stretched all along the shoreline. The stadium was now completely out of sight, apparently somewhere back behind the cliff. I thought if I would simply follow the shoreline, however, it would lead me back to the stadium. The difficulty was that the rocks from above seemed to be falling with increasing intensity and frequency. I had to huddle close to the rock face to avoid being struck by the gray rocks.

The worst was yet to come. As I looked high above me, I could see enormous boulders, several meters in diameter, teetering atop the edge of the cliff, ready to tumble down. I couldn't understand what was causing the boulders to dislodge — perhaps an earthquake. Whatever the reason, I was clearly in grave danger. When I saw the first of the larger boulders come crashing down the side of the cliff, I pressed against the edge of the cliff, pulling myself under a small overhang. The boulder crashed past me without hitting me. Then another boulder followed, and then another. Each time I braced myself under the shelter of the overhang, desperately trying to position myself so I wouldn't be struck by the ponderous rocks. Gradually the area around me began to pile up, creating a new look for the entire shoreline.

When it appeared that all the boulders had been dislodged and had fallen, I dared to begin moving again. Now I only had one objective — to get back to the stadium. I had the uneasy feeling that my father had already come and gone, and that he had simply abandoned me there. I couldn't understand why he would have done such a thing and I was uncertain what I would do when I reached the stadium, but I would worry about that later.

As I trudged away from the shoreline, the going was difficult. The terrain consisted of brown porous-looking rocks, the kind found around a volcano. This rock, however, had a spongy feel to it – sometimes when I would step on it, I would seem to sink down a bit. The landscape was cris-crossed with desolate ravines and gullies which stretched on without end. I could only guess at the direction of the stadium, and I aimed my feet accordingly.

Suddenly I saw a hopeful sight — two other people, a man and a woman, were also trudging through the desolation. They were rather far away, and I had to holler to get their attention. They saw me and hollered back. I had the feeling that they were also lost and trying to find the stadium. I thought perhaps we could team up and help each other.

Dreams became my life's occupation. My meaning in life became based in my dreams. Now I need to find the meaning in those dreams in order for my life to have any meaning. That meaning eludes me but I feel somewhat like a spider waiting to catch my prey, the reading public. The Dreammaker is critical to this story. Is a Dreammaker, a separate intelligent being from myself creating my dreams? I'm sorry, but I was mistaken. I do not have the required evidence for that. Proving that a Dreammaker is manipulating the spiders in my dreams is beyond my talent. If I were to do that, I would be proving the existence of God.

Dream of: 06 May 1999 "Crushed Black Spiders"

the reality of death is no illusion

A group of teenage boys had been engaged in some forbidden activity. The boys had first abandoned their homes, and then had committed a crime far from home. During the commission of the act, many of the boys had been injured and some had even been killed. Now, the maimed and mutilated bodies of the boys, both the living and the dead, were being returned to their home communities and their waiting families.

As people stood in the street and waited for the return of the boys, someone mentioned that the actor Mickey Rourke had been involved with the boys.

People said Rourke had crushed up a bunch of black spiders and had used the spiders when he had been committing the crime with the boys.

Some people were also worried about how to deal with the boys. The people were especially concerned about how to treat the dead boys. Should the dead be eulogized or condemned? It seemed wrong to criticize dead boys, but it also seemed wrong to praise them.

When the boys arrived, they were all in bits and pieces, in plastic bags. People began pulling the pieces out of the bags and I also joined in, pulling out the bloody pieces. I took off my shirt, not wanting to get blood on it, and I sucked in my stomach so no one would think I had a gut. As I continued, however, I began to become worried that I was going to be punished along with the other surviving boys because I now realized that I myself was one of the wayward boys.

I reached into one of the plastic sacks and pulled out the torso of a boy. The torso was small, probably of a child. Legs, arms, and head were missing. I gingerly laid the torso to the side with the other accumulated body parts.

I believe my first interpretation of spiders in my dreams was that they represented the Hindu concept of Maya, or Illusion. I feel like I'm caught in the web of reality and that reality itself seems like an illusion. This feeling gives rise to a popular conception of spider dreams containing an element of being trapped. Indeed, I feel trapped in this real world the meaning of which I do not understand. The more I make myself feel like a spider, however, the more control, at least, I tend to have of the situation. Feeling like a spider is pleasurable.

Dream of: 22 July 1999 "Killing A Spider"

reality is filled with secrets

I was on a date with a woman whom I hadn't known long. She was about 30 years old and quite attractive. I thought I liked her, but I wasn't yet certain anything would come of my relationship with her. Although really knowing how I felt about her would take such a long time, I had an idea how I might start to discover whether I cared about her: I thought I might tell her a secret about myself.

I thought to myself that I had many secrets, and that I should pick a relatively innocuous one. Telling her the secret would serve as a test. If she kept the secret, I would have learned that I might be able to trust her with more secrets. However, if she divulged the secret to someone else, I wouldn't be badly damaged, since I would have picked a secret which would cause me little problem if known.

The woman and I were planning to go to a movie and we were already walking around the mall-like area where the theater was to be found.

The towering house in which I lived was directly connected to the mall. Except for the bottom floor (which contained the mall), the house's upper stories (of which there were many) closely resembled the large Victorian Gay Street House (where my father had lived in Portsmouth since 1964). Leaving the mall area and walking upstairs to the rooms of the house would be easy.

 My secrets were lodged in the rooms of the house. Already I had decided on the secret which I was going to tell the woman – a secret in the attic of the house.

I was still a bit hesitant to divulge this secret. I really didn't want anyone to know. I didn't know how the woman would react, but I was going to do it, I was going to tell her that I … collected toys.

 I knew I had many different collections of things. Hardly anyone knew of my various collections, and no one knew of my collection of toys. I was curious as to how the woman might react. I was afraid she would only disdain and disparage me once she found out, but there was always the chance that she might find my collections interesting. I felt the need to know what she would think, the need to divulge to her this secret. I told her to wait for me and I said that I had something to show her. I hurried off upstairs, but before going to the attic, I stopped in my bedroom and tidied it up.

I picked up some trash on the floor and spent a few minutes trying to kill a spider running around the edge of the room.

I intended to ascend to the attic and bring back down one of the boxes of toys and show it to the woman there in my room. I finished tidying the room enough and I continued on to the attic. When I reached the attic (which looked just like the huge attic of the Gay Street House), I saw all the boxes and containers and double briefcases which I had neatly arranged in the attic, all bulging with toys. I walked over to one section and picked up a large double briefcase. I knew that the many boxes in this section of the attic contained fast food toys, all neatly arranged in hundreds of different sets which had been distributed by fast food chains.

I opened the briefcase and pondered the colorful contents, allowing my fingers to run over the little figures and toy cars. I dallied for several minutes, distracted by my treasure. Suddenly I remembered I had to close this briefcase and hurry back to the woman. I became a bit confused, forgetting exactly where I had left her. Had I left her near the theater in the mall, or had I left her in my room? If I had left her in my room, had I also left open a box of toys in my room which she might have found and even now be looking at? I felt nervous. What was she going to think?

The writer as spider hadn't even occurred to me before assembling and reading the spider dreams. Now I see this theme as central to the story. Before I started writing, I also had not realized that I would be the one creating this story. I had thought I would simply find a story and that I would report it. That does not seem to be exactly what I am doing. I am sewing together the strands of individual dreams into a web wherein I capture the attention of the reader. This is a lesson I should carry through in my future writing of dreams. Remember, the story must be interesting enough to capture the attention of a sophisticated reader.

Dream of:28 July 1999 "In The Spider's Web"

concentrate on the reality within

Late at night, I was walking around the back yard of a man's house. I was  disgusted with what I saw: junk sitting around everywhere and causing the yard to be a  blight on the community. Desirous of teaching the man a lesson, I decided the best way to accomplish my desire would be to take something from the yard. When I looked around, all I could see was worthless junk. Finally, lying next to a couple whiskey bottles, I spotted seven or eight pretty pink marbles, and a couple quarters.  I snatched up the marbles and quarters and headed out of the yard.

On the way out, I almost ran into a spider web guarded by a large yellow-bodied spider with long black legs.

As I reached the street beside the yard, I wondered what I would say if I were stopped by the police, and they asked me where I had procured the marbles. I didn't have a good story in mind, and I was uncertain what I would answer.

"The meaning of dreams" is a daunting phrase. I cannot prove that a Dreammaker exists. I cannot even say that my spider dreams offer evidence of that existence. Yet I question any meaning in dreams without the existence of a Dreammaker. Perhaps, however, the Dreammaker is simply an extraordinary program which exists in the cells of the brain and an actual Dreammaker outside the brain does not exist. Whichever it might be, I believe the Dreammaker had a reason for each and every time that a spider occurred in one of my dreams and those reasons offer the meaning of the dreams. 

Dream of: 29 October 1999 "The Queen Spider"

you cannot change reality by ignoring it

I was walking through one of the large rooms of the old frame house where my wife Carolina and I were living (the house vaguely seemed like the Gay Street House in Portsmouth). The room was completely empty, no furniture, just the dark hardwood floor. Abruptly I noticed something which looked like a clump of dried mud on the floor along one wall. Immediately thinking that I knew what the thing was, I gave it a kick and knocked off part of the lump. Just as I suspected – termites! Not just a few termites either. Under the dried mud gaped a hole in the wall - about the size of a golf ball - through which hundreds and thousands of termites seemed to be squeezing. I could hardly imagine so many termites filling up the walls. They must be completely destroying the house.

I had to do something immediately. I remembered that I had had the house sprayed for termites several years ago, and that I had subsequently paid a yearly fee so I could have the house sprayed again for free if termites were to reappear. Unfortunately I had let the termite-policy lapse and now I was uncertain what I would do. Perhaps I could find a termite company which would simply come there and spray this section for a nominal fee.

Meanwhile, I thought I needed to do something myself and I decided I should pour gasoline on the termites. I quickly went outside and retrieved a red plastic gas container which I kept in the garage for the lawnmower. I met Carolina on the way and I told her about what I had discovered. She also became concerned, and when I returned to the room, she came back with me.

Back in the room, I found my brother Chris (1957-1974) who had walked in and was looking at the termites. He was wearing a white tee shirt, and looked as if he were 7-8 years old. He was walking around and he didn't seem to have muscular dystrophy. When he suddenly screamed and backed away from the termites, I saw the problem. Apparently we weren't dealing with termites at all, but with hornets. At least one hornet clearly had stung Chris and several more were swarming around the room.

As gingerly as possible I eased up to the hole and began pouring gas onto the hornets. Now I could see them more clearly. Thousands of hornets - which now looked more like honey bees than hornets - were wriggling and dying from the gasoline.

Except for one … one insect resembled a black spider about five centimeters in span. I excitedly thought that the spider-like insect must be the queen! If I could kill the queen, I could destroy the whole nest. I aimed the long yellow plastic spout of my gasoline container at the spider and I pressed down on the spider's body with the tip of the spout. I smashed the spider down into the mass of hornets until I could no longer see the spider. I was uncertain whether I had actually killed the spider, but I hoped so.

I wondered if I could somehow get a better view of the hornets. I looked around until I noticed another big hole in the floor, about 30 centimeters in diameter. Looking through the hole, I could see down into the basement. There before my eyes was a most disturbing sight. A long clear tube, about 30 centimeters in diameter, rose from the floor of the basement up to the first hole which I had seen above. The tube almost resembled a gigantic intestinal tract. It was filled with thousands of wriggling and squirming hornets, some dying from the gasoline, some still alive trying to make it to the surface. Only they didn't look exactly like hornets now. They looked more like green olives. I knew, however, that they were hornets, and I knew that the house was infested. I had to do more to get rid of them.

I like feeling like a spider but the thought of filling my readers with venom is distasteful. I truly want to tell you that the Dreammaker God has been creating my spider dreams, that I have found evidence of that creation, and that I therefore offer you proof of the existence of God. I am falling far short of that goal. Instead, I capture your attention with talk of immortality. For if our dreams have meaning, we have more hope of immortality. I accept that proof that the dreams have meaning proves the existence of a Dreammaker, whether that Dreammaker be a program or a living entity.

Dream of: 18 November 2000 "Dangling Spider Webs"

the future contains many possible realities

My father was showing me the improvements he had made on the Gallia County Farm. Since I hadn't visited the Farm in several months or even talked lately with my father, I was surprised to see that so much change had taken place. As I stood on the back porch of the Farmhouse, I could see that the long barn at the bottom of the hill had been torn down and I thought I would have to ask my father what had happened to all the old legal files which I had stored in the barn. 

More intriguing, however, was the concrete road which now circled up the hill on the other side of the gully behind the Farmhouse. It looked as if the road stretched around to the back side of the hill and all the way to the top. I wondered about the wisdom of having installed such a concrete road since building it clearly would have cost a fortune.

My father took me to the top of the hill behind the Farmhouse, where I was surprised to find that he was constructing a large building, apparently a lodge. As we walked through the immense edifice, I wondered what my father intended to do with this building. Apparently the building would have a restaurant and perhaps even rooms where people could spend the night. I imagined that my father thought people would come out there to party. Perhaps he would charge admission of $10 per person, but who would come out there? Surely the people in surrounding Gallia County would not pay $10 apiece to visit this building. And would people come from far away?

This immense lodge-like edifice, obviously terribly expensive, seemed ill-advised to me. I could foresee the building sitting empty one day, with spider webs dangling from the ceilings.

I thought perhaps the building could be converted to a school if enough children lived in the area.

Back in the Farmhouse, my father continued to show me around, pointing out the improvements he was making. He had even bought an elegant piece of jade pottery with the figure of a person sculpted on the top. When I looked more closely at the face of the pottery, I detected that it was cracked and had a nick on one cheek. I figured my father had probably bought the piece on sale and I reflected that he typically sacrificed quality for price. The dozen or so men working on the Farmhouse, for example, were clearly not of the highest quality and they seemed to have no specialized skills - they were simply general workers who could be hired cheaply. All were white, but one looked as if he might have some Negro blood. I reflected that my father ordinarily didn't hire blacks.

I sat down at a table on which lay a sheet of paper which showed my father's expenses for the projects on the Farm. I had read so many corporate balance sheets while buying and selling stocks, I could easily read the sheet. I quickly saw that my father had spent about a half million dollars so far on his projects. Clearly this was too much money, but at least he wasn't near bankruptcy, and he had no debt. So even though the projects seemed to be money-losers, at least he was still solvent.

As I sat at the table, I noticed several photographs pinned to the wall in front of me. All showed pictures of my father and my step-mother, Lucille (whom he had recently married). The photos made the situation much clearer: my father wasn't undertaking the improvements for himself, but to impress my step-mother. Now I understood.

All dreams are messages of the Dreammaker to the conscious mind. The meaning of the dreams is to be found in the messages. Spiders in my dreams operate as stamps on the messages in those dreams to add a sense of portending mystery. The spiders themselves elicit the mystery of the meaning of dreams and the Dreammaker is telling me to concentrate on this mystery. 

Dream of: 09 October 2002 "Metal Spider's Web"

some realities are stronger than others

My wife Carolina and I were visiting my old college pal, Randy Ramey, who was living in a small house in a semi-suburban area in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. After Carolina, Randy and I had talked for a while, Randy (who looked as if he were in his mid 20s) pulled out a marijuana joint and handed it to me. I commented about how well the joint was rolled – straight and firm like a regular cigarette.

Randy told me he had to drive to Kansas and he asked me to go with him. He said the trip would only last three hours and I agreed to go. I figured he and I would smoke the joint on the way. Leaving Carolina behind, Randy and I walked out to his car. Only gradually did I realize the purpose of the trip: Randy was delivering some cocaine to someone in Kansas. He showed me the red metal can (round and about 25 centimeters in diameter) which contained the cocaine.

Once I understood the purpose of the trip, I immediately became apprehensive. I realized Randy had successfully dealt cocaine for many years without being caught, but he didn't seem to be taking enough precautions on this trip to suit me. Apparently he simply intended to stick the metal can in the trunk. Before we boarded the car, I advised him that although the chances of his being caught with the cocaine might only be one in a thousand, I nevertheless thought he should take more precautions. For example, he might be able to fabricate a mechanical piece which would appear to be part of the car and stick the cocaine in the piece. Randy immediately agreed with me and the two of us turned back toward his house so he could contrive a better way to hide the cocaine. I was relieved that we weren't going to leave right then; besides, when I thought more about it, I realized we couldn't possibly drive all the way to Kansas and back in three hours; we would first have to drive across Oklahoma which alone would take several hours.

While Randy walked back into his house, I stepped into a wooded area behind the house where a small stream flowed. I still had the joint and I was thinking I might go ahead and smoke it. I walked into a small shed behind the house and sat down in a corner where I thought I might be able to smoke the joint.

As I gazed around, my attention was drawn to the mesmerizing sight of a spider working on a spiral web. Two small animals were actually at work: the spider and a second little insect which I thought was separate from, but also a part of, the spider. The second insect was longer than the spider and had a definite metallic look to it. Both the spider and the second insect were facing each other, about a centimeter from each other, busily working on the web. As they constructed the web, they moved behind a board so I couldn't see them. Soon, however, I was amazed to see sparks flying from behind the board, sparks which resembled those which fly off a welder's torch. I thought this was amazing. The two insects were actually welding the web which apparently consisted of fine metal! Somehow, facing each other as they were, the insects were able to generate between them the intense heat necessary to weld the web!

The spider dreams inform the question of my very existence. It is a world of survival while trapped in reality. I must find the meaning in these dreams to give meaning to my life, but still my life has no more meaning than a dangling web in one of my dreams. The dreams are meaningless. I've focused my life on dreams which have no meaning whatsoever because I am not immortal and life has no meaning. This is a fear which these spider dreams bring to the surface.

Dream of: 02 September 2005 "The Spider House"

reality can become little more than a parody

My wife Carolina and I were in a video store which was offering a special whereby we could rent ten movies for a low price. I wasn't particularly interested in the special because I only saw one movie which I wanted. I picked up the movie and was ready to leave, but Carolina wanted to take advantage of the special and she began picking out movies. I thought maybe we could rent five movies for her and five for me, but she started picking out everything she liked and she soon had eight movies. I knew she probably had selected a bunch of silly comedies which I wouldn't care for. I looked at her stack.

The one on top was called The Spider House and was some kind of comedy/parody of Spider Man.

It looked somewhat interesting but I doubted I would like it.

I am caught in a web of my own making. Ironically, I am both the spider and prey. Soon I must die without having solved the mystery of life and death. All that will remain of me is what I write and only will what I write be read if it has meaning. The meaning of dreams lies in the message which is being communicated to the dreamer. I cannot explain why this message is so abstruse anymore than I can explain the structure of galaxies. For some reason, the universe is extremely complex and dreams guide us to understand this complexity. My distrust springs from the difficulty of solving the mystery of the meaning of dreams.

Dream of: 05 February 2006 "Collecting Spiders"

even though dangerous, reality is beautiful

A couple women (like me, both about 20 years old) had come from out of town to visit me in the ranch style house in New Boston, Ohio (where my family lived for a short while in 1968 when I was 15 years old). The two women stayed for a while, then left. After they had departed, I began thinking about this house and how I sometimes wrote about it and how I described it to people. The house had been new when I had first moved there, and it was still in good shape, even though it had been left empty so long. I thought about how I used to visit the empty house and drink alcohol. I had even tripped on acid in the house. I recalled how my old high school buddy Steve Buckner had sometimes accompanied me to the house, and I even remembered talking with Steve one day about the house and how he had stated that the only reason we went there was to get drunk or high. 

As I thought about Steve, I wondered if he might be coming to Portsmouth anytime soon. I thought I could give him a call in Columbus, where I thought he lived - but I needed his phone number. So I picked up the phone in the bedroom and called Steve's mother, Mrs. Buckner, in Portsmouth. 

Mrs. Buckner answered the phone and talked for 10-15 minutes, mostly about Steve, until she finally mentioned that Steve was out in the back yard. I could hardly believe that she had talked to me so long without telling me that Steve was there. I asked her if I could speak with him, and she said, Yea.

While she went to fetch Steve, I noticed a pretty spider crawling on something in the bedroom. The spider was larger than average - almost five centimeters across, counting its legs. It had a white body and long dark-reddish legs. I thought to myself that I would like to start collecting some kind of insect such as spiders. Having a friend with whom I could share such a hobby would be pleasant - but I didn't know anyone who liked to collect spiders. 

I wondered how the spiders would be caught. I would hate to kill them, but I knew a pin would have to be stuck in them to mount them. I wondered if a spray could be used to kill the spiders. 

As I watched, the spider jumped into the air, floated for an instant, then landed on me. It crawled all over me, on my back and in my hair. I tried to keep my eye on the spider and I wondered if it were poisonous. I knew most spiders weren't poisonous, but I didn't know about this one. I stood up in front of a mirror so I could see the spider on my back. It climbed onto my arm and I tried to blow it off. Every time I would blow, however, the spider would crouch down and hold tight. It crawled all over me. I wanted it off, but I didn't want to kill it.

Finally it crawled onto the tip of my finger. I tried to blow it off, but it grabbed tight. It was holding so tightly, I thought it was going to bite me, so I brushed it off onto the bed. I was afraid I had killed it. I couldn't see it, but at least it was no longer on me. I looked around trying to find it. I hoped I hadn't injured it, but I feared I had. 

I must have readers. Readers can satisfy this hunger my spider body feels. Otherwise my dreams are written in vain and the only thing I have caught is my own painfully deluded mind for now I fear I detect an element of insanity in these spider dreams which wrap their web around me as I die. The answer to the mystery is finally revealed: I am insane. 

Dream of: 22 June 2012 "Sleeping With Spiders"

keep focused on reality

I awoke, looked down toward my waist area, and saw a cellar spider lying beside me. I reflected how I had recently discovered the long-legged spiders in my basement, how I had been observing them on a friendly basis, and how I had found them to be very interesting. Having come to enjoy the spiders in the basement, I was uncertain whether I should kill the one lying next to me.

Suddenly, almost like a revelation, the answer came to me: I should kill the spider lying next to me. I couldn't simply let the spiders stay right there beside me where I slept.

The spider is evil and so am I. I only have one duty in life: to spin a web. Deviating from that duty leads to evil insanity. Patient like a spider I must concentrate on my duty and trust my instinctive intuition. My webs of dreams will someday bring me sustenance and free me of my evil nature.

Dream of: 03 December 2012 "The Spider Rule"

reality has rules which are unbreakable

In the kitchen of the House in Patriot, Ohio (the home of my maternal grandparents when I was a child), I notice some black spiders hanging from the ceiling. Although I normally leave spiders alone, one particular spider catches my attention, and I start poking at it with a flashlight-like device. Somehow the spider jumps onto the other end of the device I'm holding, attaches a strand of its web to the device, and starts lowering itself. I unsuccessfully try to shake off the spider as it starts climbing back up the web toward my hand. It is finally so close, I have to drop the device on the floor and I'm afraid I may have dropped the device on the spider and killed it. Referring to the spider, I mutter something like, "If you don't bother them, they won't bother you, as a rule."

I hadn't wanted to hurt the spider and I'm sorry I started poking at it. Suddenly I see the spider run away across the room. It is big, almost the size of a small mouse. I realize I'm going to have to kill it since I can't let it run around the house with other people here. I look around for a flyswatter so I can kill it, even though I hate to kill a spider.

The meaning in these spider-dreams is the meaning in this story. Either the readers of this story will see the meaning or they won't.

Dream of: 10 April 2013 "On The Spider's Back"

fiction is based upon reality

I'm in a small dark room and although I can't see well, I discern a large black spider on the floor with a leg span of about 15 centimeters. My ex-wife Carolina (probably in her early 20s) and a small boy who is her son (around 3 years old) walk into the room. As the boy walks toward the spider, I tell him not to step on it. I definitely don't want him to step on the spider whose long delicate legs scurry across the floor away from the boy. I follow the spider and as I watch it run up the side of the wall, I see what appears to be a second smaller spider upon the back of the huge spider. The little spider - which appears to be mating with the larger spider - looks more like a tiny wasp than a spider, with its stinger stuck into the spider's back. Then the large spider seems to fold the little wasp into its body to the point that I'm not even sure that there was a little wasp. Maybe what I saw was simply a part of the large spider.

Carolina starts talking about her bicycle which has been stolen and then returned to her. She complains, "My bike was broken down."

Apparently the bike had been broken when it was returned to her, which seems like something to be expected to me. Thinking that she is lucky to even have the bike again, I respond as if she should have expected the bicycle to be broken, "So? It was stolen."

With trepidation I look toward the next life convinced that the messages of my spider-dreams have guided me in this one.

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