It begins visually, well of course it does but this dream thrived on it compared to most dreams I have. The clarity of each moment nearly fooled me that it was a true memory of mine. Green grass matted down forming a six-foot wide meandering pathway with dense high foliage to either side is the first image. I was walking this path although not used enough to be considered a trail, for there was no dirt streak as commonly found. The environment was that of I-80/94, a highway, in which these hilly grassy paths ran along either side. Although like many dreams it was a distorted version. The highway was busy with traffic moving to and fro although on the grassy path you’d never know for there was no noise to be heard. At this point in the dream I only knew I was going somewhere without knowing its ending point. Now that common occurrence in dreams happens when the scene shifts without notice or explanation.
A low ceilinged, small room now becomes the surrounding area. The lights are dim, in fact half the fluorescent lights don’t even work and one set of them flickers. The dream is darker now, with a sense of insecurity creeping about. I look around and realize this is a business of some sort. There are used DVDs and various video games for sale on a couple racks nearby. At this point I am aware that I am married with a baby at home and after I’m done in this shady-looking shop I will return on my way home to them. It was but a split second this information passed into my mind then returned to the dream. Without knowing how I came to understand I was in a poor part of town, in my hometown actually, although the area I was in wasn’t slum at the time but the dream doesn’t paint it that way.
Two grey-headed men ran this shop. I turned to see one of them amble off into a back room then I shifted my attention back to the racks of merchandise. Indiana Jones, with Harrison Fords mug occupying the entire cover caught my eye. It was an image from Raiders of the Lost Ark I’m sure of. I also saw Wii cases but no memorable titles. At that juncture I was suddenly at a low counter in the same shop facing one of the unrecognizable grey-headed men. The dream had propelled me further but not quite enough to change scenes. He twiddled a five-dollar bill (USD) in his fingers, gave a sneer, and then handed me one-dollar bill in return. I knew that couldn’t be right although said nothing, the dream seemed to know (it was fixing it, I trusted the dream), the other grey headed man counseled with the other upon agreeing to warrant me one more dollar bill which seemed to end any further debate.
Which item I had supposedly bought I did not know, nor does it have any further implication in this dream. Before leaving, and not entirely sure when this thought popped into my mind, I had a feeling getting robbed could be a very real possibility in an area such as this. However it didn’t seem as big a concern as it should have been. I continued on my way worry free.
I stepped outside and turned right which would have been the correct direction to return home even in this mock hometown of mine. Upon glancing around I’m at the corner of roughly White Oak & 173rd. The building I left doesn’t exist. Instead houses make up the space but not here. I see a man, a broken mangled chain linked fence behind him with weeds sprung up here and there to help create this now unsafe atmosphere. He wore a tan beanie, had a black goatee, stood short and did not appear friendly which happened to make the scene suddenly frightening. He pulled out a wooden handle pistol from his right pocket holding it straight at me. I thought immediately, “It figures I’d get robbed after thinking about it.”
He demanded my belongings, I obliged by sliding my left hand into my front left pocket, where I never would keep my wallet but here it was along with a tablet cell phone. The wallet was brown and leather, a gift from my mother a very long time ago, I still use it today. The tablet-like phone, I don’t know where that came from. I knew it wasn’t my phone but the dream told me it was so I accepted it readily. The slick surface of the phone face rubbed against the wallet, making it difficult to take only the wallet out. I was intent on not revealing the phone I know not why at that point. The goatee man hurried me with a spray of quick shouts. Eventually I pulled the wallet out alone and handed it to him. My hands were up. I pleaded with my eyes, to scared to chance a word. There were only some fifteen dollars in the wallet, which now dawn on me why I gave it over instead of the phone as well. I chanced giving over as little as I afford to lose. The phone vanishes from thought now and never returns to the dream.
The man slowly lowered his gun exasperated, disappointed at the amount no doubt. He then looked different, he no longer appeared unfriendly or mean but rather guilty as if he didn’t really want to be robbing anymore, as if he was pressured into it and wanted no part in it anymore. No words were uttered. The man turned and ran away from me, beyond the miserable chain linked fence, across a diagonal set of railroad tracks. To go away from the dream for a moment this man’s behavior resembles Draco Malfoy. Inwardly he is struggling which life he wants, one of good or bad nature. This could be due to watching the Harry Potter string of movies over the past month. It seems reasonable enough a connection.
Why I half followed after him I don’t know, I stood upon the tracks, which were elevated as on a hill looking down as the man ran into an old warehouse a few hundred yards away. These railroad tracks replace a bike path in reality. A black man looked at me then at the other man, he stood about halfway to each of us in the middle. He shouted something to the other along the lines of “he saw you.” It was meant that I had seen too much, of what I do not know, because now the dream told me it was time to go. I made my way down the railroad tracks knowing I would be followed. The scene blinks now and I am now in an entirely different area.
Its night now and I’m in an unknown backyard. I deduce I’m still in the poor unsafe neighborhood. The same sense of insecurity from the last part remains. I bump into someone at this stage and he appears Latino. He reminds me of someone I knew long ago, from high school although I can’t confirm it. It’s impossible to make out who it is. Its as if he is blurred from head to toe, only being able to make out a couple features. He knows I’m being chased, again no idea how, and we quickly form a plan to thwart my pursuer.
My mystery friend takes cover near the house off to our left. Not long after the man from the last segment with the gun has found me. I’m too far away from the house for a successful ambush so I plead at the man who edges closer to me with gun aimed, I back away slowly until my friend is able to spring upon him unawares. We wrestle with him and loose his gun away. We have him down and defeated but we make to run as the dream tells me that there are others still pursuing me. Its possible the fear and panic also told me to flee, either way this scene ends.
My surroundings take quite a turn now. I’m in a vacation type of city environment, a combo of Florida and Branson, Missouri. I’m now entering a building and at last feel safe. The atmosphere is booming, many people around, the sun shines through the windows, giving me a sense of protection against the people of the night. The shear relief at being somewhere secure is amazing. I turn a corner to enter a room from a hallway and see another familiar face from my past, Mike Zubrick, he looked as he did the last I saw him some five years ago or so, grey haired, in good shape for a man nearing seventy. I worked with him in my late teens and early twenties at a pizza place, my first job. He was a genius at math and sort of a mentor to me on the job – I’ve always respected him.
I grabbed him desperately by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth shouting his name a few times. It was then I realized how torn and tattered my cloths were I was dirty. How long have I been on the run? What has happened since the last scene of this dream? Finally my old friend recognizes me and I learn he works at the job I have most recently quit which happens to be another pizza place. I worked there from mid-twenties to early thirties. His cloths are inside out but I see the logo that represents the corporation he works for on his sleeve. Like mine his cloths are ripped and holey as well, although I ignore that. As I’m talking with him about who knows what, dialogue is sparse in this dream. People talk but the words aren’t recognizable. Mike shifts into another old man I worked with. One moment I see him clear as day, I turn my head casually away from him for a second and when I turn back he is replaced with…
Art, a man who had similar qualities and features as Mike, he worked with me more recently at the second pizza place and being sixty years of age. Aside general appearance, a knack for math and being a mentor figure at work they are usually who I think of first when I think of my two jobs I worked at in my youth. It only made sense in the dream I viewed them as the same person. Nearing the end of this scene, in the hallway I arrived from, the man with the gun lumbered down the way. He was trashed. He had a bruised eye, swollen cheek, and was just in a worn beat up state. He passed by not showing anything on his face except a blank expression void of any thought. He hunched as he walked, never saying a word, just shuffling along. Could I have been the one who pummeled him so? The thought grieved me. Then I walk outside as the scene shifts ever so slightly. It remains the same part however.
Looking down the street, the bustling is gone, people are scarce, and the sunlight is blocked by overcast. The buildings look rundown, abandoned and unsafe. I’m back in the wrong neighborhood, I walk down to the corner, and I see some shady characters. I glance overhead to see a sign it reads ‘Cinema’. It’s broken and a wreck – its been closed for years. I have a queasy feeling, like a twilight zone moment where I’m destined to not make my way home. I decide to go back inside. When I get to the door, its glass, I can see through it. It’s not the same place inside either, no surprise. I open the door and step in, I feel uncomfortable at once.
I walk forward to see a man sitting at a table facing me. As I near him I discover I know him, Its Wyatt Titus jr. Instant relief flows through me. It is astonishing what one small familiar piece of what you know can calm your nerves in an otherwise alien place. I take a seat and we talk. He informs me he knows a way to get me home, us home. He talks as if we’re trapped, trying to escape where we are. I pay no mind I just want to leave. As the conversation goes on it becomes apparent Wyatt isn’t being truthful, it becomes clear he plans to turn me over to my pursuers, the shock stifles me, I didn’t want to believe it. The dream ends.
This dream occurred on February 17, 2015 and to this day has stayed fresh and crisp in my mind. What is it that makes certain dreams memorable? I don’t know if this dream has any substance to it but the urge to pull it from my mind and present it here had to be done.