Mother and I went to a rivers edge where we sat low behind a rock watching my childhood. The river ran right through a dessert. A man came up and asked if she would like to cross the razor rock filled river with her two infant children. The mother followed perhaps 100 people into the water. They flowed with the current down and around huge rock masses until reaching the shore. While on shore a man came up the leader who happened to be wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. He asked him what we were doing out in the middle of no where. He said, “We’re looking for turquoise.” The man questioning said, “Out here? We’ll be robbed and murdered.” He pointed to the women and children who had risked their lives crossing the river. He couldn’t believe he crossed the river trusting that they would go some place safe where they could raise their children only to find out they were digging for turquoise. The man instructed the group (who still didn’t know about the turquoise agenda) to start moving across the dessert. The dream panned to a young boy dressed in Tarzan type attire watching 4 Indian men look at the wanderers. He prepared his slingshot as if to shoot a stone their way. Thinking better of it he caught up with the group but didn’t mention he’d seen Indian warriors. The dream then panned back to the warriors who turned their horses towards the wanderers and began attacking. By this time the wanderers were being escorted by armed forces. The four Indians attacked with super long arrows with large white heads measuring about 5 inches at the widest point. I saw one arrow go into the back of an armed guard carrying a flag. I woke up.
Speaking of the check book, of managing the house and other things the foster mother said to the foster father, “Whose fault is this?” she said this as she moved into an elevator that finds itself in my dreams quite often. I said, “That’s the problem with us, we analyze everything, try and find out whose fault it is but we don’t change anything.” She said “What?” The elevator doors closed just before I could step in to answer her. While closing I noticed it was filled beyond capacity with people holding black plastic bags full of whatever. I caught the next elevator and went to class. Sitting in class was too stressful thinking about this argument so I got up and left. As I rounded the corner the foster mother came out of her classroom. “Don’t you work?” I said. She wanted to know more about my comment. I told her, all we do is talk but we don’t change anything. We ask who’s responsible for the good and the bad, we get information yet that information is useless. She told me things would change if I were respectful. I told her I was respectful. I don’t hit you, spit at you, name call or threaten you. I talk to you adult to adult and I’ll always do that. You, however, hit, spit, kick and scream at me. Where is the respect in that? You can’t do that to people and tell them you love them too.
Mother and I went out to get a drink and dance. Had three long island ice teas. Left with mother, both of us fell asleep in the car, Captain Crunch was in the back seat. In the dream I woke up, got out of the car and wandered off up the hill and to the first step of an unknown home we were parked in front of. Before I hit the first step I realized I’d wandered off and went back to the car. Cap’s ears were alert as he watched me come back to the car.
Joan of Arc
The three dreams above are from the morning of August 28th, 2007
Commentary written August 30, 2007-3:19PM