7-13-13 When the dream starts, I’m walking on the gravel road from my grandmother Esther’s house up the road to where my parents lived. I yell for a guy on a riding lawnmower to wait for me, but he doesn’t. I start to run to catch up, then yell, “Did you lock the two doors?” I decide to go back and check the doors: Esther’s and Old Man Rinard‘s, across the road. Inside looks like an abandoned house and I get a panicky feeling that I’m dead. I start to leave, but run into “Andy” [The Hangover/ The Office] on his knees putting new batteries on a shelf in the office. Another guy comes up behind him and asks if they should use the new [expiration] dates on batteries now. He tells that guy yes, then asks me what the range was on my camera. He tells me to go check it for him before I go, and that it’s printed inside. I go to Esther’s room, which was at the opposite end of the hall from “my” room; I open the door with my key. There’s a young guy pacing the floor with an older guy watching him. The room is mostly empty except for an old rusty bed spring on its side. I find my camera while putting some expired batteries on a shelf in the middle of the room. I open it with my thumb nail [dime] like a transistor radio. The cartridge looks like the kind in an A1C [three month average blood sugar self-test kit]. It’s coated with salt or corrosion like it fell in the ocean [or the batteries leaked]. I see a vision of two ranges: one photo shows a cow at “17” feet and the next at “174” feet. The older guy says something about the young guy being dangerous or with mental problems. I notice when I leave that the room has a kitchenette like an apartment or hotel room I’ve seen before in dreams. I walk up the hall with a blond in a suit. She has two kids, one about four and a toddler that can sit up on the floor. The toddler cries into a toy phone for several minutes. I point it out to her mother, that she has an unusually long attention span for a baby. I tease the baby, “Who are you crying to on that phone, your grandmother?” The baby puts down the phone and says that she was crying since I didn’t talk to her. I reply that I thought kids didn’t talk in sentences until they were bigger. She asks how big and I indicate a height of about three years. The two kids talk to each other about some science project next to a gate. INTERPRETATION: I saw Old Man Rinard twice when I was a kid. The first time he was cutting through my grandmother’s driveway from Badger Creek. I pointed him out, and she said to yell to him, “How do you like your new truss, Old Man Rinard?” The second time I saw him was on Halloween. He was living in a tiny dark shack next door to his son’s new brick house. They told me that his son had torn down all but one room of Old Man Rinard’s old house and he lived there.
Posted on: Sun, 14 Jul 2013 06:12:16 +0000
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