Dream 20020704, 9:30 AM:
Dangerous Airport Construction
I’m coming back from a vacation with Mom, Dad, and Richard. We have to board a plane to get back, and to get to the plane we have to cross through a very dangerous construction zone at the airport. There are guards all around, and barricades that narrow the access down to a single spot – each person has to climb a ladder, then walk across a thin board to get to the other side of a big hole in the floor. I watch someone jump down the hole, and he falls on a bunch of chunks of rock in a big container like a dumpster. I think he dies. Mom is scared; she feels like she won’t be able to make it across because of her knees. I walk around, passing through some of the barricades, and find a way that she can get around the hole. I get her across to where the plane is, and then come back for Dad. While I’m coming back for him, I see some seed pods on the ground – they are really beautiful, brown wood textured, and they look like little tiny pots with thrown lids. Inside each one are the seeds, which look like shiny brown beads. I have picked up several, and now they look like something that a child would use for a tea party.
Dad is mad at me because I have been picking up the seed pods, which he thinks are useless. He says, “Maybe some day, your unknown, unnamed fee will be high enough that you can pay for your own way.” Then, he walks along, stomping because he is angry. He stomps through the floor, and starts to fall, but I reach forward and grab him, and pull him back up by some sort of psychic “strap.” It feels rubbery and elastic. He would have died if I hadn’t grabbed it. I pull him back up onto the concourse, and tell him, “I can save your life with what I can do. Okay? Okay?”
Then, at home, we’re looking at a sheet of white paper-fabric looking stuff, that has doodles and signatures on it. I think it’s from people we met on our vacation. Mom opens a package, it’s a gift from a girl we vacationed with; it’s a set of two small purses, blue and green with BRIGHT lime green trim. She wonders aloud what she’ll ever be able to wear it with, and I comment that she could wear it with what she’s got on, because there is a blue stripe on the collar of her dress that matches one of the blue colors in the purses.
Then, the dream goes cartoonish. I’m watching two couples on small scooters; one says something that comes out in printed bubble letters: “Pa-Powed,” but then the girl of the other couple corrects it, “Pa-Foud.” There is a boy in a car that reminds me of Speed Buggy cartoons, but it is stylized to look like a wolf. It is whistling, howling, and drooling at pretty girls.