Dream Log: September 15, 2002

I was in my old house again, living with my mother, and some of my old friends from school had called over to play cards and drink. I was showing some of them my computer while the rest of them were watching television, and I showed them a website like E2 where I was posting articles on famous chess players. One of them asked "What about Etienne Bacrot? and I typed in his name and brought up a java applet of one of his games. I explained, "Etienne Bacrot just won the French Championships.

The guys were getting quite loud, and I knew that my mother would be trying to get to sleep so I turned down the volume of the music and the TV and went upstairs to see how she was. I saw that her bedroom door was open and the light was on, and when I poked my head around the corner she said "Hi there," so I went in.

"Sorry about the noise, I'm just kicking the guys out now."
It's fine, don't worry about it. I see you disconnected the Internet and then dialled in again."
"The first call was from a mobile so we dialled in again from the land line, it's cheaper.
"Oh, that's good. Before you go downstairs again, will you do me a favour? Tell me if you see the dark and smiling face.
"What's that?"
"Oh, I thought I told you." She laughs. "The doctor showed me how to tell if I'm sick."

She gets out of bed and we walk to the top of the stairs together, and she waits while I go downstairs and look back up at her. She's half-naked and grossly fat and pale, and she hunches forward so that her belly pushes into a strange, contorted shape. As I stare at it, the folds resolve into a smiling face with dark eyes.

"I can see the face."
"Is it laughing or smiling?"
"Just smiling."
"Okay, I'm still sick then."

She goes back to her room and I get rid of my friends and go to bed.

It didn't feel like Albuquerque, but somehow I knew it was.

The first thing that happened was that I had a premonition of a bad pile-up on a wet road somewhere on the way to where I was going. First I drove past the site, up to the top of the Sandia Mountains where I could look down below.

I saw two cars collide on a road after one hit a pothole and slid out of control. They burst into flame. Two more cars join the melee and I call 911.

A bunch of stuff I don't remember

Now, I am in a phone booth, witness to another melee, this time of people colliding and shooting each other and fighting with each other in the same exact formation as the cars collided earlier, on the same road. I dial 911 from the phone booth.

It rings into a Mexican restaurant near the scene.

"Hello, 911."
"Yes, please help. There's a bunch of people killing each other over there on that street."
"Um, no thanks, it's not worth my time."
"PLEASE? People are getting killed out there. Come on! PLEASE HELP US!"
"Oh, OK, fine."

Later, I am at a school, somewhere, in uniform. I appear to be a small child. I'm in a modest school uniform, and the school is mainly for the teachings of Islam. I don't remember much about what was taught, but I had to excuse myself to use the restroom.

A female classmate of mine, a good friend, asks me if I'm coming back.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just going to the bathroom."

"Are you coming back?!"

"Of course! I just need to use the bathroom!"

"OK, just come back."

So off I run, into the school's parking lot, and there is an old Chrysler or equivalent reading "MEN". I hop inside, and see no faucets or plumbing fixtures. There is what appears to be a wax statue or stuffed replica of Alice Cooper sitting in the front seat.

I say: "No way, dude. I can't go in here."

So I keep on walking, and find what appear to be familiar bathroom entrances. There's a sign warning of construction being done.

I open the door.

A screaming young girl in pajamas comes running down the stairs of what appears to be a fairly nice modern house. She gets right up in my face and yells and makes faces.

"Your child is fucking insane," a voice calls out.

I make my way to the bathroom and lock the door.

I WAKE UP, AND I HAVE TO PEE REALLY BAD.