Dream of:19 January 1984 (2) "Statues In Front Of The Mirror"
I was riding around in a green car being driven by a black fellow (about 20 years old). He quickly drove down a hill and then went banging up some steps on a second hill which reminded me of the Hills in New Boston. The ride was wild and frenzied. Finally we drove up to the house of Dr. Weinstein and Mrs. Weinstein (the parents of my friend Steve Weinstein), which was located in a forest on top of the hill. It was a large beautiful house.
We stopped the car and stepped from it. No one appeared to be home. We walked to the front door and went into the living room.
The black fellow seemed wild and impetuous. He picked up a couple antiques in the room and broke them. He said he disliked the Weinsteins because they had so much money and such nice things. I said, "Yea, but think. You might feel differently if your were working all the time and you had enough money to buy these types of things."
I began thinking if everyone worked and money were evenly distributed most people would have enough money to live in a nice house and buy nice things. I was worried about his actions at first but then I thought, "Oh what the hell."
I picked up something myself, threw it and broke it. He picked up a tall statue of a cat. It was almost a meter tall and made of a dull, white, translucent glass. I said, "Oh no. Don't break that. I like that."
He ignored me, threw it against the floor and broke it. I saw the head lying on the floor and I regretted what he had done, but I thought, "Oh well. It doesn't make any difference."
One wall in the room was covered by a large mirror. Shelves were placed in front of the mirror and on the shelves were many small statues. I threw something at the statues in an attempt to knock some off, but I was having difficulty reaching the statues with my throws. I thought of simply pulling down the whole wall of shelves and breaking everything on it.
Suddenly I said, "Hey. I hear something out there."
My companion and I walked back out onto the front portico. A black truck was sitting in the driveway near our car. I stood behind the door of the house so I couldn't be seen, but my companion stood in front of the window. I said, "Get down! Get down! There's somebody in the truck!?
He didn't hear me. I saw the people in the truck look at my companion and then pull away. I ran to him and cried, "We've got to go! We've got to go!"
We ran to the car. We both headed to the passenger side of the car. I was in the lead. He asked who was going to drive and I said he should. He ran around to the driver's side. We boarded the car and drove away in a frenzy.
I wondered if the man in the truck had had time to call the police. If so, they might have erected a roadblock at the bottom of the hill which we would have to crash through. I tried to think whether some other exit might exist. Perhaps we could race down some disused road.
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