Morning of August 1, 2003. Friday.
I have been living in a “tree-house” - deep in extraordinarily beautiful thick, dark woods, miles from any city or even smaller rural area. The tree itself is actually more like a house-like structure. I live with a female that appears to be a “perfectly balanced” composite of my wife (at a younger age) and Brenda W. This appears to be the same composite female (but older here) from another dream where she, as a very attractive dark-haired witch (with just a slight hint of freckles), lived in an orange tree in the southwest corner of the orange grove in Cubitis. We are feigning ignorance of “normal” human life and human habits and mainstream society. We plan to make a movie to show the other denizens of the woods at some point…a “horror” movie about “average” people and their limitations and short attention spans (as well as their potential unpredictable rages over senseless, usually fictional, beliefs).
After time passes, I feel a somewhat tentative urge to explore a human city. I and a few others wander out from the woods, looking for signs of possibly frightening evidence of humans, eventually hoping to find the theme that can be viably used in our project. We come to a larger town. There is an area where a car drives slowly around, giving the strong impression of a prowling but mindless panther. We hide behind various fences just out of its reach. The city is uncomfortably weird and with potential of unexpected shadows of people (both “friendly” and potentially dangerous) appearing seemingly out of nowhere. We spend what seems a considerable time trying to work out if a parked car is occupied by one or two people or is merely empty.
Various small empty plastic bags (from potato chips and such) from vending machines seem to appear at random on the grassy areas adjoined to the sidewalk, causing one member of our group to become nervous. “That wasn’t there before!” they shout. Perhaps the wind just blew some of the pile from down the street. A dog barks, and someone screams. A bottle flies through the air from a drunk and is dodged by a team member. We go to study a broken hubcap near the middle of the street. We study it to determine if it has magical properties. It has an essence of the “wheel of fortune”.
There is a rumor that live human beings are walking about in unknown parts of the city. Terrifying. There is shadow play and there are false signs. We hear off-key singing. A group of drunks (unseen) are meandering near the railroad tracks area.
“Do you have the map?” someone asks. The map is like implied infrared images that somehow appear on what seems to be normal paper. Each image is of a person who is awake and walking or driving somewhere in the region. A member of the team, for some reason, still does not believe in human beings and claims that the reddish glows moving on the map are actually fireflies.
Every now and then (recurring since childhood) there is a vague impression of the shadows of giant rats (but never the rats themselves) moving across larger wooden fences near abandoned buildings, with an additional concern about random barbed wire in possible areas we try to move through. Ugly images of graffiti are horrendously splattered across the urban landscape, almost like an uneasy perception of unconscious occult ritual with the opposite intent of what is implied relative to the closeness of the images to each other - much like combining the wrong medicines in a given time period.
“There is nothing more frightening than walking through a town full of people,” comments a friend. I am inclined to agree. There is feigned concern and funny business over apparently losing our camera and film when it also seems we did not have any to begin with. Ugly billboards show smiling ogres holding up snake-oil. “The map, the map!” someone yells. It is no longer a map, but a napkin.
Over time, not much happens and we decide to return to the safety of the deep, dense forest. Even so, I decide to use an abandoned army jeep to make the trip faster. As we drive, I notice a strange, miniature wyvern that is more like just a partly moving woodcut design floating through the air, fairly high above us, but not posing a threat. It actually appears to be weirdly and incongruously superimposed on the dream itself, which creates a rather odd awareness for a short time, almost like a “watermark” on the actual construct of the dream (the only time I recall of having dreamed of this) in a similar way as a station logo appears over a television show. It seems to lose energy or injure a sketched wing and fall into a pile of abandoned rubbish on the wayside as we drive by the scene.
Before we get back to the forest, my wife (as she is now fully my wife as she is now) makes a remark about how quiet and peaceful “this part” of the city is at night. And I say, very slowly, "yes, it is…" as I awake very slowly with a very blissful awareness.
Synchronicity: A similar image (of a “deep forest”) was on the next user’s dream on the dream catcher site (with only one code number between the entries. Links here below (15244 was offset originally - so the two images originally appeared together when posted):