Dream Journal
October 3, 1997
So Rebecca and I are living in an apartment in Tank. We have our kittens and everything is nice. We’re sitting, hanging out on the left side path, reading, playing with kittens, and talking with Ian. Somebody catches us breaking the left sidewalk rule: “You can’t hang out there.” They imprison us in the dark underground garage. The prison term is for 10 weeks. I shout and argue and Rebecca says the kittens will die because they won’t be fed. I am fuming, and write a letter on this yellow-screened computer saying how random and stupid it all was. Finally we decided to hell with ‘em and we followed a car out of the garage. We went back to our room in Tank, but it was now a tent along a row of other tents behind the main building. There was a response to my letter on the wall/ceiling monitor when I returned. It was from someone who used to be a friend, saying that what I did was a bad idea and something nasty about consequences. Rebecca was falling asleep in her sleeping bag. Rafe came by, unhappy with me and I fully stood up for myself. He left.
Then (did I supposedly “dream” this?) I saw visions of an invisible force shoving some people on a fence and yelling slurs. Then it shoved someone walking by, and went to a power line and yanked the cord out. The power line was how Tank was plugged in and the immediate result was that it rapidly began to shrink. It shrank until a conglomeration of featureless blue person-sized rooms was all that remained. My tent had deflated around us and was now in a sort of pool around our feet. The people in the deflated Tank poked their angry heads out and I just laughed and laughed. “What do you think?” one asked another. “I think we get him” said the leader, staring at me. I knew they’d blame me. They came to me with pillows and Rafe immediately hit me with one. Very angry, I yelled that I hadn’t done it, but had merely laughed and laughed when it occurred. I was trying to yell louder and louder but my voice remained a whisper. At least it was an insistent one. Anyway I convinced them and hit Rafe twice with my pillow in revenge. Their anger/life was gone and I felt the story was over. Rebecca was in a sort of cocoon that looked like a stone screw-head. I had the impression that it was safe for her again. All the emotional charges had dissipated. Then I awoke.
References: Tank is the name of a co-op I lived in in college.
Inhabited Building Thought Form: I believe the cord was the source of the Tank thought-form. Without it, it deflated as if it was starved of its sustaining attention.
One’s Personal Space: The Tank thought-form and its rooms deflated, up to the limits of the bodies of those inside, which prevented the rooms from shrinking further. We are the source of our own bodies (usually), so unplugging Tank didn’t affect them.
Pillows are very thought-form-like things, too. Could they have been the deflated rooms once the people left them?
Deflating Tank: A thought form with people inside can’t “melt” exactly — it would crush the inhabitants. Deflating makes more sense, especially in the context of it being sustained by pressure through a cord.
Ejected From the House: Our room was separated from the other rooms in Tank upon our return, apparently a result of the group no longer wanting us.
Cocooning?: So this is interesting.. Rebecca goes from being involved in the story to going to sleep “in a sleeping bag” (gradually losing shape). I then see her later in a strange-looking “cocoon”. I wonder if she turned inside and went into her own subjective dreaming early on, and this is what it looked like from the outside.