Dream Journal

Rebecca and I were running through a rainforest tunnel cave trying to survive. It was like a video game. I kept having to shoot these mud-drenched guys in tattered clothes. Then this one enemy and I ran out of ammo and tried to be the first to reload. The enemy turned into a large Puerto Rican woman, and I challenged her to hand-to-hand combat, with Rebecca choosing the rules. We gave our guns to her. She said: “First one to score three hits wins. A hit is a hot coal blow to the forehead or a knife wound to the mouth.” We got ready and then I thought about how sick this was and said “Hey, do ya wanna just be friends?” The woman was shocked at first and took my outstretched hand into a wrestling hold, then released me and shook it. She was really nice and laughed about how nasty Rebecca’s rules were. We went to this hole in the ground that Rebecca and I had been kicking at (there was a faint video game overlay). I was uncertain but we all jumped in. Rebecca and I were holding onto the woman and we were screaming in fun as we fell. We all landed in a river, then climbed out and went on a long journey.

At one point we seemed to be in the twilight land of the Dark Tower but nowhere near the actual tower. We climbed up this white tower from the river and peered out at her home town — this Puerto Rican village with clay buildings, rugs, clay pots and lots of her people. She said, “Only pure Puerto Ricans or blood descendants can live here,” a thing Ed had said to me yesterday about Japan.