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Dream of: 18 October 1982 "Intelligent and Fun"

I sauntered into a bar on Gallia Street in downtown Portsmouth, Ohio, walked up to one end of the bar, and ordered a beer. Having been served, I gulped the beer down. Many people were at the bar, but not many glasses—most people were simply talking and not drinking.

Some people at the crowded bar looked familiar. One fellow resembled Steve Adams (a fellow whom I had known for years in Portsmouth, notorious for his black belt in karate), who was busily discoursing with a woman at the other end of the bar.

When someone stepped away from the middle section of the bar, opening up a space, I walked from my end of the bar and moved into the open space. I stood back and looked around the room, which was beginning to fill. After a couple groups of women had walked in, I quickly became disgusted with the place. I stood at the bar a short while longer, finally turned, and headed toward the door.

Why was I here, I wondered. I stood by the door and contemplated cruising to another bar down the street, but I figured I probably would not find anyone at the other bar either. Everyone had probably already been to the other bar first, and then had repaired to this bar. I concluded thinking, "This is probably the hot spot of the night."

I was still unsure why I was even in the bar. I did not enjoy this scudsy dive. It was exactly the kind of place where I thought I would never go. Yet here I was.

I thought about Bonnie, my winsome law school classmate whom I had been dating lately. She was intelligent and fun to be with. Spending time at home with her was so pleasant—such a contrast from this dump.

I stepped from the bar out into the crowded street, where a carnival appeared to be in progress. As I plodded through the throng, I soon encountered Bonnie. We stopped and talked, but we soon began arguing. After making a final comment to her, I turned and walked away. She shouted something at me, but I could not distinguish what she had said. At first I thought she would follow me, but when I realized she was not behind me, I figured I should return to her. I reeled around and retraced my steps to where I had left her; but I could not find her—she had disappeared into the thick crowd.

I now remembered Bonnie and I had arrived downtown in separate vehicles—she had been in a car, whereas I had been driving a red motorcycle. Since we had parked the car and the motorcycle close to each other, I thought if I were to return to the parking place, I might find Bonnie there.

Hurrying to the spot, I soon found my motorcycle, but Bonnie was nowhere in sight. Concluding I might have a better chance of locating Bonnie if I looked for her from the motorcycle, I hopped on the bike, started it up, and drove off.

Instead of focusing on Bonnie, however, I rode out of town and headed down a country road. Once I was in the country, my mode of transportation changed rather dramatically—I was no longer riding a motorcycle. Instead, I was sitting in a red baby's high chair, a high chair capable of traveling down the road.

I was a little confused about how to operate the chair. When I began rapidly descending a hill, I stretched out my feet to the ground and tried to brake myself, but I kept going faster and faster down the curvy hill. I could somewhat control the direction I was headed, but I could not control the speed. Racing precipitously toward a bow in the road, I realized I was going too fast—I was certain I could not negotiate the curve.

I tried to brake myself with a rock which had lodged under one foot, but I could not stop. With a crash I ran off the road into a ditch. I tumbled from the high chair, rolling over and over, until I finally came to a stop, hardly able to believe I was uninjured.

Dazed, I found myself lying near a small creek, with my high chair nowhere in sight. The area around me appeared to have been excavated by someone using a bulldozer, piling up dirt along the banks of the creek. Pulling myself to my feet, I began walking along the creek, back toward the road. Now barefoot, I enjoyed the feel of the soft dirt along the edge of the creek, but I worried I might injure my feet because so many dead branches and trees were scattered over the area. One pile of dead wood even resembled the ribs of a gigantic dead animal.

Suddenly, I perceived that something which felt like a snake had wrapped itself around my leg. I jerked the thing off and threw it into the water, unsure whether it had been a snake, a vine or something else.

I continued walking for a long ways, unsure whether I would be able to find my high chair. Finally, I walked right up to the chair and picked it up. When I examined the chair, I realized how narrowly I had escaped injury. At the same time as I scrutinized the chair, I seemed to hear an expressive voice in my head which gravely intoned, "You must continue to do what God told you to do."

I thought that would be fine, but I thought before I continued to do what God had told me to do, I should just begin to do what God had told me to do.

I paused for just a second, then thought, "The main thing God has told me to do is to write my book on dreams."

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