Dream

Posted on August 11, 2002 in Dreams

I go for a walk around a marsh along the edge of a low, white city to ponder a snatch of a dream that keeps coming back to me. The Boy Scouts want me to keep showing up. They like my family tent. They insist that I come to their camporees even though I don’t like them because my tent has plenty of room. It gets musty with age and they buy their own. They abandon their interest in me. Tell me to go away. That is the dream I remember as I cross a wooden bridge and get out onto a street. Some kids come along, mostly boys, dressed like kids dressed in the seventies. No skin heads among them. I go down the hill (this is a dream and it is perfectly natural for one to suddenly appear) and meet two, tall, Australian aborigines. They have spears tipped with silver daggers. The aborigines throw their spears at some trees and gesture at the boys. This enrages the children. They chase one of the aborigines into a thickly forested fenced lot. The other stays on the street and heaves his spear at the mob massing around his partner. He runs down the hill and I follow him. I think about what I will say when I get to a gas station with a telephone. Should I call the police? Am I calling to obtain the rescue of the other man or to bargain for the arrest of his faithless friend? How will I describe him? Will they know how to find an Australian aborigine on the street? Will they believe me?