Dream: The Escape of the Angry Young Man

This morning’s dream, 7:00 AM:
The Escape of the Angry Young Man

I’m a young blond man; I think I’m still in high school. I’ve committed some sort of crime. I think I killed somebody, but I can’t remember that part, just that I’m having to deal with the consequences. I am placed in a special room in the school, I think it’s like a confinement room; there is a woman who looks like a nurse who takes care of me, feeds me, etc. I have a friend who is trying to help me get away; he helps me hide somehow inside this containment room; the sensation is that there is some crack in the floor, and he’s managed to get me down into it. It’s like being behind the cushion of a couch. There is a sense that I’m wedged in here, but not crushed.

Now that I’m hiding, they seem to have lost me. They are trying to find me, using some sort of laser search system; there are two little “ports” above my head where I’m hiding, and out from them come the laser beams, searching around the room. One search scans around the room like a pair of tank treads, traveling around the floor, and another is “lines on a circle,” and one beam somehow makes circles in the air while the other makes intersecting lines; the intersections glow very bright, and they are what searches the room. One of them passes through my left shirt sleeve, and I wonder if it sees me. It scares me. They try three different ways, and after the third try they give up; they have been unable to locate me.

After they give up, my friend is leaning over talking to me; he’s had to pull out some piece of furniture to be able to talk to me. The nurse comes in, and sees him kneeling down on the floor, and starts to question him about what he’s doing in here. I know she can’t see me, but I don’t want to get him in trouble, so I lean out, and say, “He’s talking to me.” She screams, and runs out to get help. I decide this is my chance to get out of here; the door is unguarded for just a moment. I run out, and I’m on the street, barefoot in pajama pants and no shirt. I know that I need to get some clothes, or I’ll be very easy to find; I run through some downtown-type areas, and think about seeing if anybody has thrown any clothes away, but I decide that it’s not very likely. I keep going, past a bunch of old-fashioned places, old pubs and shops.

I go into a more residential area, although it still feels like it’s close to downtown. I see an odd-looking house with a greenhouse built onto it, and decide that they might be willing to help me; there is a sign out front that says something like “Phem Flame.” It looks like the greenhouse might be used for performance space; there are chairs set up in it.

I go up to the door and knock, and a woman comes out. I tell her that I need to borrow some clothes, and she takes me out into the front yard, where there are a couple of big garbage bags. We start going through them, and she’s holding up stuff – she holds up one white dress, but I want pants and a shirt; we keep digging. Also, the dress is soaking wet, and I wonder if all the clothes are wet. She goes inside to look for something else. There is a tree stump here, and there’s a little very fat baby on it; he reminds me a little of Jabba the Hut. I have a dream-like image of holding him and cutting off his head with a hatchet, but I shake my head, and tell myself I don’t want to do that sort of thing. The girl comes back, and we start looking through the clothes some more.

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