Posted by: normanlgreen | February 21, 2013

Dream, February 21, 2013 Child in the Crawlspace


Dream, home, 5:12 am

Traveling through a mountain range with my brother and another friend. They spot a ski area and get the urge. I do not have my equipment with me, so they drop me at a ski shop in a village away from the lodge. Inside the staff is inattentive. The get one customer started in the shopping process, then shift over to another – there seems to be no transactions completed. I have no cash, but decide to use a credit card so that I will not spoil my friends’ trip. The owner of the shop suggests a new style of boot with a built up heal that forces one to shift forward on the ski. I try them on and they fit much better than the pair I have at home. I decide to be happy about the purchase. None of the three clerks will help me by ringing up the purchase.

My friend, who may or may not be Ray, Has some hand written sheet music with sloppy notation. I remember that my brother is George Gershwin (does that make me Ira?) If I can prove this to the store staff, I might get some service. My friend seats himself at the spinet piano in the entry area. He plays from the pencil marked sheets that my brother has used to jot down some ideas. What he plays is a variation on the rag inspired bridge from Rhapsody in Blue– chromatic lead-in to the straight 8s. The staff pays no mind.

Wandering into another room of the cabin/store, I notice a small stack of cds for sale and a bin on 7” and 12” vinyl records. I flip through but nothing grabs my attention. When I return to the equipment that I have set aside for purchase, it is gone. The staff has put it away. I give up trying to make the purchase and head out the door into the mid day light. My brother has not returned with the car. I get the idea that he has gone on a hike up at the pass. I walk down the road. I come to a divide in the two-lane highway. I cannot tell which route I am to take.

 

Later: Boiling black clouds at night. Above the tree line, rounding the curve on the pass, the mountain drops away on my left side (inside curve) fear as I see the clouds below us. I grab my friend’s hand. He tries to calm me. I spot stars in the clouds below. The clouds thin. What I took to be stars are the lights from farm houses. I see the patterns of cultivated fields.

Understand the depth of my fear, my friend anchors me while I look into the valley below. A town grows in size as I look over the cliff. I point out a freshly painted store – blue with large display windows. A London cop walks the street. He sees something below the cliff on which I stand and runs toward it. The town feels like a large-scale toy until we go down into it.

There I see a man who is sealing up the entrance to a crawl space below a bungalow. I know he is the murder of children. I take a 14 inch length of 4 x 4 lumber and crack it down on his skull. This has no negative effect on him. He turns toward me with a leer. I hit him repeatedly without causing any damage to his head, though he does decide to leave.

I squat down beside the hole in the foundation. The murderer has been using white caulk to cover the opening, but has not completed the task. He has left a small hole in the bottom right corner. A tiny pale hand with very soft smooth skin reaches out. I know that this is the boy the man has sealed inside the crawl space. The child is still alive.

 

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