Posted by: normanlgreen | December 14, 2011

Dream from 2010 failed amphibious landing


I travel with a group of young men to some festival where we will perform but also enjoy the other acts. We have rented a big station wagon that has a secret compartment that runs from the right rear turn light/tail light, where there is a hatch door, all the way up through the body of the car. I in particular have stored many belongings in this area.

We park at the top of a hill, above the stage area. A bicycle race is parallel to the event.  Up the hill comes a group of women riders. They pass us when a group of swarthy men ride up with ease. They are not taking it seriously, because they know they can win easily. They pull to a stop and visit with us. We use each others’ cameras to take pictures and laugh. The sun falls and we take shadowy pictures of the white stucco building – their silhouettes like gangsters framed in partially filled window frames. One of the men straps on a net and does a flip off the corner of the building, slightly damaging himself.

The morning comes, and I reach into the secret compartment of our car and find wads of ones and twenties in the long passageway– I am the only one small enough to worm all the way to the forward portion of the compartment. Inside of it, dangling from strings are Halloween decorations and postcards advertizing the Wutcraker. I make sure that some of them will stay there for people to discover in the future. I back out of the tube and turn my attention elsewhere.

There is an electric guitar noise band playing on the stage, phrases sound almost like it might be mid period Yes, with patrick moraz keyboard phrasing. I almost go to the stage, but turn back to my group as it is time for us to leave. When I get back to the car, there are belongings hanging out of the hatch door, the door has been broken off and very little of the band’s equipment has been  packed – bad plan and bad execution.

The guys are all slightly hung over and not functioning well. We will have to put the rest of the belongings in the back portion of the already over-crowded car. We have taken on another passenger, a young lady that I know from my school days.

We head out down a country road, with me driving – I have apparently rented this vehicle. The roads and little towns look similar, but not the same as the ones through which we passed when going to the festival. I miss a turn and back up to head down a dirt road, cutting across a corner of a field. This happens again, and I miss the intended road and drive through the field for a while until I catch my mistake.

There is a farmer down hill who raises his hands in anguish as he discovers that weather has turned too quickly and damaged his crops. The road leads into an old farm town, I see water pouring off of a roof, across the full gutters and between the board slats of a red building to our right – there is a flood coming. The alley turns into a dead-end with water pouring off the buildings on all three sides – we back out and turn onto a short path that peters out. We jump out of the car and down to a river side – red earth and green weeds. We scramble up the bank in front of us before the water fills the river’s channel. We come onto a bridge that crosses the river. We run across the bridge and further up hill, knowing that troops have been mobilized to subdue and capture us.Night falls again.

As the sun rises, we see that we are at the seaside, with tall surf pounding into a bay below us. One of the guys asks if it is the big island we can see, our young friend tell us that it is. All of the major islands of the Hawaiian chain become visible as silhouettes as the mist burns off. With the increase of light, I can also see the carnage of a failed attempt by the army to make an amphibious landing in their attempt to kill us. There was much confusion and bodies float – some of them dead by drowning while others have blood dissolving around them in the crashing waves – friendly fire, but we will take the blame and pay the punishment. The water is startling clear where not tainted with blood – the sand beneath can be seen to move with the waves. A patch from an olive-green uniform into close view – a symmetrical design reminiscent of the army airborne insignia.

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