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Dream of: 06 January 1981 (2) "Orange Felt Pen"

While in an unfamiliar nice house which seemed to be in Chillicothe, Ohio, I walked into a room where my mother and my sister were doing their laundry. I myself wasn't interested in laundry and I criticized them for staying busy all the time doing their clothes.

I left and walked down the street until I came to an intersection with two red and white one-way signs one on each side of the street. Since the signs were turned the wrong way, I walked up to one and bent it back around so it pointed in the other direction.

While bending the sign, I noticed a cap on top of the sign pole and I knew gasoline was down inside the pole. Although the signs were just ordinary signs, I knew the gasoline was somehow used for them. After I had finished bending one sign, I intended to also bend back the other one, but then I decided not to fool with it.

I walked on and decided to return to the house where my mother and my sister were. I could see a house in the distance which looked like the Gay Street House; my mother and my sister were going into it. Since I wanted to speak with them I headed toward the house. When I reached the house it still seemed like the Gay Street House, but also reminded me of the Gallia County Farmhouse. A bridge was in front of the house, but the bridge wasn't a small one like the one in front of the Farmhouse. This bridge was large with big trucks rolling across it. The noisy trucks made me wonder whether more trucks would be coming that way because I had changed the signs. I decided the changed signs wouldn't affect the traffic there.

I walked onto the porch, stood and looked out over the street. I was carrying a copy of the 1980 Motion Picture Almanac; I dropped the book off the porch into some weeds amidst what appeared to be some rose bushes. I walked off the porch and I tried to retrieve the book; as I reached into the bushes, I got a briar in my finger. After I managed to grab the book, I walked back onto the porch, put it down and began trying to extract the briar from my finger.

An attractive smartly-dressed girl walked out of the house. Apparently the house was a duplex and another family was living on the side the girl had come out of. I glanced at her, but I didn't say anything. I thought maybe when she saw my book she might have some interest in that type of subject and want to talk with me about it; but she didn't say anything. I was wearing some nice light-blue slacks and a nice sweater. On my head I had a little hood which seemed like an elegant gray pilot's hood.

I turned to look at the street; the bridge was no longer there. Instead there was just a brick street on the other side of which was a wall which looked like the inside wall of a house. A mantel was on the wall and sitting on the mantel were several sculptures of heads. Over the mantel were hanging several pictures.

I walked down the porch stairs toward the statues. I couldn't seem to keep my balance and I fell on my butt. Finally I made it to the statues and as I began looking at them, I suddenly thought I heard a voice call out. I turned around and I saw the girl stand up, then sit down on her butt and slide down the porch stairs. When she reached the bottom I thought, "Well maybe she's crippled."

She stood back up, walked over to me and said, "Here's your pen."

In her hand she had an orange felt pen which I apparently had dropped. She started to turn to leave. I wanted to talk to her and I wondered whether I should tell her to stay and talk with me.

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