The Gemini Ring
Man...did I have some more doozies last night.
For some reason my dreams have been in vivid detail the past few days. What's the deal? Does stress do it or something? I'm certainly not short on stress, at least.
This dream had something to do with an old friend of mine, Mya. We haven't been in touch in a while now; she has a job and a husband now and is very busy, unlike me. (I'm busy, but not in any important job- or family-related ways.) We were walking around this building together. It reminded me of the UAW building where my dad works--lots of long halls filled with windows--so many weird rooms and ways to get lost. I even remember at one point I begged to go to "The Hub," and either Mya or my mom refused. (The UAW has this round room called the Hub, with a padded seat around the wall, and light-up glass planets and zodiac signs up high near the ceiling. In real life, I mean.) We just kept walking around this building, but there was something important going on. Mya and my mom got ahead of me--we were hurrying to get to this certain destination. As I hurried along I noticed an object on the floor in front of me and stopped to pick it up. It was a large ring--opal--but the ring opened up, like one of those poison rings Lucrecia Borgia was supposed to have used. For some reason I felt I was supposed to be a Gemini at this moment. ?? No idea--these dreams never make too much sense. There were some other objects on the floor, but I had to hurry! I followed after Ma and Mya.
Now we were out of the windowed halls and in darker halls--carpeted, but dim. We were surrounded by a crowd of people who were also in a hurry--it was like in between classes at high school. I tried following the two, but I got separated by the other people--I even managed to be a bit rude and push a few out of my way, but there was a fork ahead of me and I hadn't been able to see which way Mya and Ma had gone. I began to despair as I reached the fork; but then someone grabbed my arm and pulled me along. It was Ma; she got behind me and pushed on my back, propelling me along in front of her. We were going too fast; I wanted to slow down, as my feet were barely even touching the floor, but for some reason it was urgent and we had to get someplace...
The Tree Finally Falls
We have a large maple tree in our front yard. After a bad ice storm a few years ago, when it rained and rained and rained so long that the power was knocked out for 14 hours, a large middle section near the top of the tree snapped like a twig and still, even three years later, sits perched precariously up there, just awaiting the next really big wind when it could fall down and smash the new roof of our house. I stand out in the yard at times and stare at it. I feel sorry for the tree; I used to swing from it, but a long time ago somebody tied some cord around part of it to keep its branches up, and now that cord has grown into the bark. Plus sections of it are rotting and falling off. It's still alive, but I pity it just the same. If trees could hurt, this thing would be in severe pain.
I must have an anxiety about that broken middle section...
In my dream I was sleeping. I had woken up and remembered my "Gemini dream," "The Gemini Ring," with the lost ring and Ma and Mya. I went over the details in my head and went to the bathroom to wash my face. There was a window in front of the sink, instead of the regular mirror; I looked up and out it and saw some bark in front of me. My eyes widened with surprise. It was the middle section of the tree! It had fallen sometime during the night! There it was, right in front of the bathroom--now living room--window--it had missed hitting the front of the house by mere inches. I was staring at it lying in front of the window, but I looked down and saw that I was way above the ground, on a second or third floor. (Yet the tree section was still on the ground--don't ask me how I could see it right in front of me.) I couldn't believe how close the thing had come to destroying our house, and that it was finally DOWN.
I reached to turn off the water, my hand shaking badly all of a sudden. I knew part of it was tiredness; but part of it was something else, like the sort of shakes one gets after getting in a near car accident, when reality hits again and they see just what could have happened to them and how lucky they actually are.
Dad came into the house. I told him about the broken tree section. He too was surprised--"So the thing finally broke off, did it?"
I remarked how I had barely noticed at first, yet I must have--"When I was half asleep--I remember hearing this loud CRASH! outside, but I must have gone back to sleep and forgotten about it! It must have been the tree!"
We went to look at it out the window, and I knew already he was making plans to cart the thing out of the yard--if we could ever MOVE it. Why? This thing was probably four or five FEET THICK!! It was HUMONGOUS! How were we ever going to get that out of our yard??
And then I woke up. Dad was home. I went out into the living room and looked out the window--it was normal now, ground level, and not the bathroom window (there IS no bathroom window, BTW). Outside, across the road, was a large section of tree--but not as large as the one I had dreamt about. Yes, the top section of our tree really HAD fallen off, finally, but it wasn't huge, it wasn't in front of the house--it was across the HIGHWAY, for God's sake. "So it did break off," I murmured.
"Yep," Dad said; it wasn't our concern as it was off our property now. It was still a decent size, but not as big as the one I'd imagined; still, a dump truck came driving up near it, and all of a sudden I saw that it WAS huge, now that it was in perspective. Still nothing that could rival my dream, but...
And sometime after this I truly DID wake up. <:)
Murder On The Train
I was on a train...a train speeding to somewhere. I was both there, and I wasn't; I was watching and part of the action, but nobody knew me, nobody noticed me. At least--not until after I had eaten my French fries. I sat at a little cafe/restaurant table eating French fries when I noticed an old school peer of mine, Shawn. He too was eating fries and Chicken McNuggets. I had had some nuggets, but hadn't wanted them. Now I joked with him about it--"Hey, Shawn, YOU'RE the one who stole my nuggets!" He gave me my container, which I had left behind, and I smiled as I took it. There were only TWO nuggets in it, sandwiched between more fries. To make a long story short, I ate them, I had to go, I found myself walking along the sandy shoulder of a road, on my way home...
But the train...
This train was hurtling along at incredible speed. There was a boy on it. Maybe around thirteen or fourteen, possibly a bit younger. He was in some kind of mental state, and was supposed to be under someone's guardianship; but he wandered around the train just the same, being careful not to get caught by anybody who knew his problem. (Whatever his problem was.) I followed and watched him.
In one car on the train, a man came walking in hurriedly, carrying something sharp in his hand--I got the impression it was a statuette of some sort, like an Emmy--he bumped hard into another man, without watching where he was going. The second man yelled at him and started chewing him out; the first man scowled angrily and pulled his hand back. I still couldn't see what was in it--but I looked at the second man and saw that he was now holding his stomach, blood darkening the front of his shirt. Whatever the first man carried, he had inadvertently impaled the second man when they ran into each other! Only now did either of them realize the seriousness of the situation; at first I felt sorry for both of them, as the stabbing obviously hadn't been meant intentionally, but the first man ruined any chances he may have had. He pulled something out--a large gun, it looked like a small cannon--and he began firing in the car.
People started falling like flies. All I could do was watch, as if I weren't even there, as if it were a movie--somehow it was, yet it wasn't, because I felt the horror.
Somehow, people started getting thrown from the train by the gun blasts. The train went under a large snowy embankment--bodies flew screaming and bloody, slamming into the snow as if it were stone. Yet more flew past the train windows, landing crumpled in the snow below. It was like they were getting sucked out by a vacuum so swiftly that the snow was as hard as rock when they struck it. Dozens of bodies ended up outside the train, battered and bloody. I turned away from the scene, horrified.
The man with the gun like a cannon went dashing off into another part of the train.
Meanwhile, the boy was sneaking around, and came to a room where several people were having drinks. There was a little girl there, and he attempted to impress her with a trick. There were two kinds of drinks, gold ones and red ones. The boy put a dye in a gold drink to turn it red, impressing the girl when he told her he'd changed the drink. He was suddenly younger now, but very intelligent and tricky. The girl had to leave and the boy found himself with this dyed drink he wasn't supposed to consume--it was like wine, or medicine--when an old man noticed him.
This old man worked on the train somehow. Very cultured and educated--he wore a white shirt and a black vest, spoke very carefully with words clearly enunciated, acted like a butler. Yet he was more like a bartender. Noticing the boy, he smiled knowingly and invited him to a drink. Of course, the boy couldn't refuse, and he--I--downed the dyed drink, even though we weren't supposed to. (We switched places there, very briefly, not for long; after this I resumed my place invisible at his side.) The old man smiled at the boy's act and began to talk, half to him, half to no one in particular.
"This boy is very bright; he will go places, I'm certain." His voice was low pitched, cultured, a mite gravelly but not too much, with a trace of British accent. "He has the perfect voice, and see how canny he is with these drinks. Such a tricky boy. People will try to keep you cooped up, but you will always manage to outwit them."
I lost track of everything he said, I was so entranced by that cultured voice. The boy listened, enraptured, as well. This man was very wise--we both knew it. Someone came looking for the boy not too long after, and he had to go reluctantly back to his supervision--I'm still not certain what was wrong with him--but I knew he was going to keep the old man's words in mind.
Still the murderer roamed around this train, and I couldn't completely get over what I'd seen, all those bodies flying screaming through the air, screaming even as they were already dead, smacking against the hard snow...but I never did find out what became of him.