My next post was going to be about aging, but I had a remarkable dream last night or early this morning and I thought I would share it with you.
January 14, 2018
It was a workday, but for some reason, I had to drive all the way in to San Francisco to pick something up. My destination was a type of Chinese 7-Eleven. As I strolled through the aisles, I realized that I had forgotten what I came here for. I figured if I strolled long enough, I would remember.
Eventually I came to a back door. I opened it and descended a long set of stairs or ramp that lead into a large, dark, cavernous enclosure. There were ramps or stairs leading up out of the enclosure at various points along its circumfrence.
As I approached one of these ramps, I could see that it lead to a downtown BART station. I took a mental note of it. I then chose another ramp, and as I ascended, I saw a woman descend the same ramp with slightly frustrated or disappointed look in her eyes. As I neared the top of the ramp, I could see why. For some inexplicable reason, I had been transported not only through space, but back in time. I was in a TWA lounge at San Francisco International Airport circa 1975. The lounge was completely empty and the furniture was brand new, completely devoid of dust or deterioration. I needed to get out of there, so I descended that ramp, quickly. I had decided that this “ramp exploring”, while fascinating, was diverting me from my original task. I attempted to backtrack my way back to the Chinese 7-Eleven, when I ended up in a most unusual bookstore.
As I ascended the ramp and opened the back door, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was, in fact, a bookstore, in the present day. As I picked up the books, however, I noticed that each of them had a glossy finish and seemed to be reflecting a face that was not mine. They eyes were too large and slightly slanted. The head was narrower. I picked up other items and they all reflected back the same face. This cannot be, I said to myself.
It was at that point when I woke up. I took a few deep breaths and made some coffee. I couldn’t shake the strange visions loose. What does it all mean? I then visited a good friend of mine, who I knew to be particularly gifted and insightful. After I had finished relating the dream to her, she said “Your true identity hasn’t been known up until now. You were sent here to protect a small extraterrestrial child named [unpronounceable] .” She drew a picture of the child, which had large, slanted eyes and a pig-like nose. I could feel the innocence and vulnerability of this child. I knew that my friend was correct. I then asked her why the strange reflections in the bookstore. She said, simply, “because you are, on some level, an extraterrestrial yourself.” The realization hit me, hard. I got back into my car and drove through a dark forest, ruminating about these new realities that were so suddenly thrust upon me.
I then woke up for real.