Dream Journal

Me, Joleen, and Angie . . . are in a car full of supplies going to Joleen’s mother’s. We cross hilly areas, like a park or golf course, then cross a long wooden bridge, and arrive. Seems I’m there to take a job as a guard for their prison. There are many, many cells in a line with good lighting, and the cells have hay. Chris H is one of the prisoners. Angie, for all intents and purposes, played the role of the real-life Joleen; the affectionate lover and companion, while the dream Joleen was something else. . . . “Her darker side” as I interpret it. There was another guard in the weapon chamber, which contained lots of long, black spears and hooked pole-arms. I needed something smaller. I was surprised at the cells. Less so that Chris was there, but I became determined to get him out in the next few days. I had an overall uncomfortable feeling in this place and something seemed dreadfully wrong. I met up with Angie and Joleen again, and met Joleen’s mother, who owned this house. I was disgusted both by her appearance and manner, and she spoke of the witches in the basement: women who will grab out at you. Joleen then went down into the basement and Angie and I nervously followed. Unpredictable lightning lit up a smallish roughly-built place complete with garbage, doll houses, and a few small girl’s toys. I looked wide-eyed for those witch women, and long moments passed without their appearing.