I had been consulting with several people at the Waco Law Office (a law office in Waco, Texas where I began working as a law clerk for attorney Michael Vaughn in 1982) until all the people and I finally walked out into the hall. A elderly, dignified man who was important and probably wealthy (probably in his 60s) was with me.

A crowd of about twenty people was standing in the hall in front of the two elevators, the doors of which opened at the same time. The people began boarding, including several attractive women who boarded one elevator. Although I wanted to talk with the women, I boarded the other elevator.

The elderly man apparently didn't think enough room was left and he didn't board. After the doors shut, I thought something like, "I should have just waited and gone down with him. It would have been better than riding down with all these other people."

As the elevator continued moving, I suddenly noticed that instead of going down, we were actually moving along a street and that windows were on the sides of the elevator. I turned around and saw that the other elevator - which now looked like a mobile trailer - was in front of us. My elevator now appeared to actually be a mobile trailer hooked to the other trailer. In front of the trailers was a van pulling both trailers along a street. I told someone in the elevator with me that I didn't understand how the elevator had turned into a trailer like that.

We were moving briskly along the street when someone said we were being taken to the airport. Since I wanted to go home and not to the airport, I joked with someone that I was going to open the door on the side and jump out. Realizing that I was alarming the people, I said, "No, as soon as we get a stop sign I'm gonna get out."

The whole area seemed like the hilltop area in Portsmouth, Ohio. I thought that my father and my mother were in the trailer in front of us and that they would probably also get out at a stop sign. When we finally came to a stop sign, I opened the doors and hopped out onto the sidewalk. I thought I saw someone else step out of the first trailer, but I was unsure. I did see someone I didn't recognize standing on the street, but I couldn't tell whether the person had gotten out of the first trailer.

The van took off in reverse the way it had come and I saw the people in the first trailer looking at me through the windows as they passed by. I scarcely looked at them and I didn't wave, although I knew that some of them knew me. I watched the van go by.

Wearing a tie and jacket, I thought I probably looked rather impressive out there on the sidewalk.

I had been let off on a rather steep incline of about 45 degrees. As I began walking downward toward the stop sign, I stopped and thought, "No, I should walk back up. It would be closer to go around that way to get to my home."

When I began walking back up the hill, I saw in front of me a large house, part of which was constructed of logs. I became absorbed in looking at the logs, which appeared to have displayed bulging deformities when they had been trees. Seeing that the logs had apparently been intentionally cut, so that the deformed parts were at the ends of the logs, was quite impressive. I had the feeling that some sort of religious services were taking place inside the house.

By the sidewalk stood an enormous tree which seemed to be two trees grown together, merging and leaving a space between them at the bottom through which a person could crawl. Although the combined tree was almost as large as a redwood in girth, it was only as tall as a normal tree. I stooped down, crawled into the space and tried to pass all the way to the other side, but I couldn't. I felt stuck and I had to back out the same way I had entered. I stood up, looked at the tree more closely, and saw that there were actually three places where one could crawl through the tree.

When an older woman stepped up and began talking with me, I asked her what kind of tree this was. She told me a little about the tree and said that it was a "Beaver Oak." I looked at the tree more closely. The bark was gray and the tree was worn around the roots where people had been walking. Obviously the tree had been a popular attraction. I thought I would like to tell my girlfriend Louise about the tree and bring her to see it. The tree would be something unique for her, since not many interesting things could be found to see in this area.

Then I noticed that a small one-room house had been built right in the tree. The house was about three by five meters, was made of regular boards and had windows in it. When I asked the woman about the house, she said that services were occasionally held there.

When I looked inside, I realized that the house was actually a little church. At first it looked dark inside, but when I looked again, the interior of the church was lit up with what appeared to be candle light. A red hue predominated and it looked like Christmas time inside.

A service was obviously in progress inside the church and four or five people were sitting on the front bench, among whom were a black girl and some Mexicans who all looked as if they were mentally retarded. A trim, dark-complexioned, black-haired youth wearing a blue sweater (probably 16-17 years old) playing a guitar and singing did not look as if he were retarded. He was singing, "Mi maestro en drogas camina solo."

It seemed as if he was conveying a spiritual message that some kind of force had compelled him to take drugs, but then he had been able to break away from it.

I realized he was singing in Spanish and I became fascinated. I had understood exactly what he had sung. Hearing the words intrigued and affected me. I didn't know what to do and a tear formed in each eye. I felt consanguinity with the boy because he spoke Spanish and because he had obviously overcome a drug problem.

When the tears rolled down my cheek and dropped onto my chest, I felt blinded. I felt as if people were watching me and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to be part of them, but I was unsure how to do it. 

I stumbled around for a few minutes, looked up and found myself back in the Waco Law Office with something in my hand which I was reading. When Vaughn walked in and asked me what I was doing, I answered, "Oh nothing."

He asked again, "No. What are you so down about."

I answered, "Oh, nothing. It just happens sometimes. I thought everyone was already gone home so I could be down."

Dream Commentary of January 23, 2015

If churches ultimately sometimes become a symbol for the Dream Journal in my dreams, it seems that my concept of God is what ties the church and the Dream Journal together in my mind. Just as I think that God is the object of religions, so may I also believe that God is the ultimate object of the Dream Journal.