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001 - [EMAIL PROTECTED] - Re: Digest dream-flow.v001.n110
002 - "Wilkerson, Richard" <rcw - Pilot Disaster : Thirteenth Peer
Electric Dreams: Dream Flow
A fountain of dreams in Cyberspace
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From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Subject: Re: Digest dream-flow.v001.n110
Date: Sun, 13 Jun 1999 10:24:19 EDT
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race drm-peace had lain to the right of the fork if you had avoided becoming
"slowly"
more at www.dreamgate.com./dream/dubetz/
--------------- MESSAGE dream-flow.v001.n111.2 ---------------
From: "Wilkerson, Richard" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: Pilot Disaster : Thirteenth Peer
Date: Sun, 13 Jun 1999 09:35:37 -0700
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Dream Title Pilot Disaster : Thirteenth Peer
Date of Dream June 10 1999
Dream The part I remember the most vividly is of
leaving from a sort of barracks where I had had close friends who stayed
there with me. We shared some unhappy circumstance as war or plague but at
some point I woke to find my self completely alone. I rushed outside and
proceeded to an airfield which seemed familiar to my dream me as if I was a
pilot. There was a young lady standing near an oil drum fire she was
dressed normally. My near panicked question was whether she had seen any
planes taking off. She said no but there was some sort of flatness to her
expression that I did not trust. It was not sinister though. The sky was
completely black and the earth was as if made of light sand. I went
hurriedly to some sort of rudimetary building of corrogated aluminum with
barbed wire around the top. There was space around the top of the walls
before the roof. I intended somehow to break in though it was not quite
wrong for me to be there only wrong how I !
!
wanted to go in. I got in and found with a sort of horror that my plane
was not there. I remember taking some sort of storage space open to remove
engine parts again unpleasantly surprised to find they were not the right
ones. Just as I am discovering this my comrades or friends begin to return
in fighter planes but at the same time bombs start landing or perhaps it
was a plane or planes crashing and burning. Later I am in some sort of
cafeteria standing before an old woman as if at inspection but she is
reaching out and her hand brushes my cheek and she prophecies that I shall
recieve horrible disfiguration in sixty years at which point there appears
a tatoo in red and black on my right arm just below the shoulder and I
realize somehow that the disfigurement is somehow the same as that
received by an important friend at the barracks that I believe to now be
dead and that the disfigurement is somehow shared or perhaps a mark of
guilt toward that friend or something.
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