FORWARD: This dream definitely could have been a mini-series.
(I don't know how it works in your dreams, but in mine, the plot can build and build and become more and more convoluted, and then I get stuck. Not unlike the main character of a puzzle-oriented video game, such as Myst or Monkey Island, I can wander frustratedly around a single room for hours at a time. Actually, most nights, my dreams end unsatisfied.)
Note: All 3 parts of this dream took place in less than an hour of sleep.
Part 1. Covert Entrance
Close your eyes and then fade in with an image of me with my back flat up against a barn, head turned to the side and tilted slightly up. This barn (more like a storage shed) was the only structure near the perimeter of an mysterious 40-acre compound. This compound was surrounded by a tall, steel wall with a cluster of modern buildings on the side nearest me. The rest of the compound was said to be just farm land. The wall looked impenetrable--but I knew there must be a way in; if I could just stay there long enough to observe.
Alone at first, suspicious-looking characters began to show up one by one, seemingly busy at their own tasks. An African-American man was planting plastic ferns in a ditch that ran perpendicular to were I was standing. Across the street to my right, a young woman in curlers casually checked her mail box, along with the five boxes next to hers. It was "O.K." though. "They were all on vacation." Moments later, I noticed two more figures appear at a distance with props at the ready to perform equally pointless tasks.
I could be seen by all so there was no point in pretending to be hidden. "There's a lot of us out tonight? Huh?" chuckles generously emerged from each of the misplaced people.
Feigning interest in the nearby fern gardener, I asked, "Is it true that you get the most from your soil when you mix plastic plants with real plants? I think I heard something about there being more nutrients available to the real ones when you do that."
"Exactly," responded the man with the artificial green thumb.
We must have all been after the same thing--the box of preciousness, to which, I was the only one with directions to secret hiding place; or at least I had supposed. My father must have left a second set of instructions before he died.
The girl in curlers approach the steel structure with an armful of mail. Loud creaking and cracking noises erupted from the side of the wall. Large doors were opening for her. On a whim, I ran up next to her and took some of the mail from her hoping to gain entrance posing as her assistant. I took a chance in teaming with her because I assumed that, like me, she wasn't meant to be there either. If I was right, she would blow the whistle on me in order to maintain her own cover. She was silent. My fingertips tingled underneath the pile of letters.
*Analysis:
-The Box of Preciousness is a metaphor for a Letterbox.
-The "It's O.K." response came from Rock the Block on Friday night when I helped collect donations at the door. Everyone made excuses not to give to the Wheelchair Foundation. My favorite was one girl who waved her hand in front of me like a Jedi and told me that it was "O.K." It made no sense. Hilarious.
-The black gardener was a football player that I saw during the the BYU v. UCLA game on Saturday. (I thought he looked out of place.)
-The plastic ferns come from the BYU WILK Garden Court where there are 40' plastic trees! I saw them as Chen and I past by on my way to the first week of Ping-Pong club last Tuesday.
-The girl is Julie, a girl I've gone out with a few times. I remember seeing her hair done up once and I thought it was really beautiful. I guess I subconsciously wanted to see it done up again. We went to dinner at Zuppas Friday night and then talked by the river.
-The letters came from me getting a lot of financial mail this week. One letter that is particular on my mind is from the IRS! Apparently, I didn't file something correctly.
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Listening to: Belanova - Baila Mi Corazón
(I don't know how it works in your dreams, but in mine, the plot can build and build and become more and more convoluted, and then I get stuck. Not unlike the main character of a puzzle-oriented video game, such as Myst or Monkey Island, I can wander frustratedly around a single room for hours at a time. Actually, most nights, my dreams end unsatisfied.)
Note: All 3 parts of this dream took place in less than an hour of sleep.
Part 1. Covert Entrance
Close your eyes and then fade in with an image of me with my back flat up against a barn, head turned to the side and tilted slightly up. This barn (more like a storage shed) was the only structure near the perimeter of an mysterious 40-acre compound. This compound was surrounded by a tall, steel wall with a cluster of modern buildings on the side nearest me. The rest of the compound was said to be just farm land. The wall looked impenetrable--but I knew there must be a way in; if I could just stay there long enough to observe.
Alone at first, suspicious-looking characters began to show up one by one, seemingly busy at their own tasks. An African-American man was planting plastic ferns in a ditch that ran perpendicular to were I was standing. Across the street to my right, a young woman in curlers casually checked her mail box, along with the five boxes next to hers. It was "O.K." though. "They were all on vacation." Moments later, I noticed two more figures appear at a distance with props at the ready to perform equally pointless tasks.
I could be seen by all so there was no point in pretending to be hidden. "There's a lot of us out tonight? Huh?" chuckles generously emerged from each of the misplaced people.
Feigning interest in the nearby fern gardener, I asked, "Is it true that you get the most from your soil when you mix plastic plants with real plants? I think I heard something about there being more nutrients available to the real ones when you do that."
"Exactly," responded the man with the artificial green thumb.
We must have all been after the same thing--the box of preciousness, to which, I was the only one with directions to secret hiding place; or at least I had supposed. My father must have left a second set of instructions before he died.
The girl in curlers approach the steel structure with an armful of mail. Loud creaking and cracking noises erupted from the side of the wall. Large doors were opening for her. On a whim, I ran up next to her and took some of the mail from her hoping to gain entrance posing as her assistant. I took a chance in teaming with her because I assumed that, like me, she wasn't meant to be there either. If I was right, she would blow the whistle on me in order to maintain her own cover. She was silent. My fingertips tingled underneath the pile of letters.
*Analysis:
-The Box of Preciousness is a metaphor for a Letterbox.
-The "It's O.K." response came from Rock the Block on Friday night when I helped collect donations at the door. Everyone made excuses not to give to the Wheelchair Foundation. My favorite was one girl who waved her hand in front of me like a Jedi and told me that it was "O.K." It made no sense. Hilarious.
-The black gardener was a football player that I saw during the the BYU v. UCLA game on Saturday. (I thought he looked out of place.)
-The plastic ferns come from the BYU WILK Garden Court where there are 40' plastic trees! I saw them as Chen and I past by on my way to the first week of Ping-Pong club last Tuesday.
-The girl is Julie, a girl I've gone out with a few times. I remember seeing her hair done up once and I thought it was really beautiful. I guess I subconsciously wanted to see it done up again. We went to dinner at Zuppas Friday night and then talked by the river.
-The letters came from me getting a lot of financial mail this week. One letter that is particular on my mind is from the IRS! Apparently, I didn't file something correctly.
----------------
Listening to: Belanova - Baila Mi Corazón
Crazy weird dream Bry! I liked the analysis at the end for a change. :) It's fun to see how what you do translates into what you dream about. I had a pretty crazy dream last night too which combined parts of LOST, the book I just read (The Host) and two little boys in the ward. Heather and I were two of the only left humans on the planet because when the aliens had come to take over, we were down in "the hatch" which was really a time machine that kept us from getting "changed." Your date with J sounds fun!
ReplyDeleteYes, I loved that you did your own analysis. Hope things are going well with the job hunt, we're anxious to hear from you.
ReplyDeleteWish we could do a box of preciousness together.