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September 11, 2012 Dream

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  • September 11, 2012 Dream

    (From Mario's "Book of Dreams", edited and redacted in part.)

    DREAM # 146
    (September 11, 2012)



    Dream with Doctor Dahesh.

    (Act I)

    I was in this place… a village or town situated at altitude… It almost felt like a mountain city or village… I don’t remember. But I do remember being outside, hiding behind massive boulders of some sort that shielded me from view. There were people… older people… walking downhill in large groups of people (walking en masse), down the mountain road.

    I knew the Doctor was supposed to be walking by. I was with someone, I think. I don’t know who it was. But I do remember it was a female, the one to meet up with the Doctor when he appeared.


    From between the boulders, I saw the Doctor. I caught a glimpse of him. I went into the mass of marching people, just in case he needed me. Our eyes met and he, in a subtle way, gave me the sign (or signal) not to approach him just yet, and instead to head downstream, and to wait for him there.

    I understood the signal, and gave him space. I did not approach him, and I let him chat with the woman. I waited further down the steep mountain road.

    The Doctor finally makes his way towards me—his pace is fast. I have my black backpack. He begins to give me a set of instructions on-the-fly, as we were walking. I do my best to remember them, while I scramble to find a yellow notepad—inside my backpack—upon which to scribble them.



    (Act II)

    [Redacted, as it involves encounters and details about people not germane to this story]



    (Act III)

    Now, we are walking in a city street like Old Town, Alexandria, or old Soho in New York City, and I think we were in what looked like a souk or a mall. Anyway, we pass this shop/exhibit space that the Doctor had apparently invested in.

    Meanwhile, I am still in the process of writing down his instructions [given in Act II]. We’re now inside the shop/exhibit space, which was modeled in a French-period style. There were two ladies, and a thin tall man with a short beard, and glasses. There were cats on the mantle.

    There was practically nothing noteworthy in that “Store/Exhibit Space” and the Doctor was shocked!

    He asked the woman, “Where did all the money go?”

    She calmly, coldly tells him that it went into the restoration of all that mediocre-looking molding atop the period cabinet (a piece of French academic furniture). I look closely at the detail (the molding) and lo and behold, to my eyes, it didn’t warrant the $66,000 that Doctor was forced to shell into this store.

    The Doctor couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it either. So I said to him, “Tell them you have an architect-friend, and an expert in these matters, and he thinks this is too expensive!"

    He nodded in agreement. The Doctor was in such a perturbed state of shock and disbelief…

    Meanwhile, I was still trying to sit down in that store, but the interior design and the arrangement of the furniture was such that it forced me against the fireplace mantle, where I had to squeeze in and be taunted/annoyed by those cats that were perched on the mantle.

    At one point, the Doctor (and certainly I, as well) had had enough. Plus, it was clear that these women and one man (who was sitting down in a relaxed manner on a bean bag of sorts) couldn’t care less about the Doctor, his situation, and how they squandered his money.

    We left hastily.

    Once outside, I said, “On, no, I hope we got everything—the notepad (I was looking for it) … The last thing (I continued saying) we need is to ruin our exit and go back in and be forced to ask them for anything!”



    (Act IV)

    The Doctor and I had just left the store. The Doctor and I are walking and I get emotional. I begin to say, “Doctor (and I am fiddling with the backpack) I am so sorry…”

    “For what?” he asks. And that’s when I begin visualizing all the things I wanted to apologize for when I was younger, but never got a chance to do so.



    (Act V)
    It was evening now, and we were in a city-like environment, such as New York City at night. There were three men: thugs who spotted us and began to make their way towards us. I alert the Doctor. I begin to look for a weapon of some sort, but alas, all I had was a small hand-sanitizer bottle. The men—these thugs—where thin, not “pretty.” They even had orange/reddish hair, and were smoking. I tackled the first thug. He began to burn me with his cigarette butt. I could actually feel the burning sensation on my hand. As I put some of the sanitizing lotion on my hand, and rubbed it on that thug’s face. I knew that putting some alcohol right under his eyes would have a repelling effect. And finally, it did.

    Now, I have to deal with the second thug… Again, with the smoking… the burning sensation… my fingers rubbing sanitizing lotion under his eyes…

    I saw that the Doctor was not in danger. He seemed to be getting along with the third thug (or mugger). I woke up… it was 9 a.m.
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