Dream: The Flying Pan
Dream 20030727, 11:50 AM:
This dream seems very odd, disjointed, and vague. There were two dreams earlier this morning with a lot of emotional stress in them, but I couldn’t recall them upon waking.
I am walking down a small hill, heading toward a gym. I watch myself as if from a distance, and I’m remarking on the form of my body as I walk / run – looking at the arrangement of my limbs and the carriage of my body.
I get inside, and realize that I’ve left something in the car – I think it’s a radio, or something to play music on. I go back out and get it, and come back in. Then, I remember that I need a cord for it – back out again, returning with a huge orange extension cord, industrial style. I am standing in the area where all of the cardio machines are, and talking to someone – the person tells me that someone I might want to avoid (an old boyfriend?) is here… and I explain that it’s a non-issue, I’m not concerned with where he goes, and if he’s here, it doesn’t bother me.
I don’t remember doing any exercising. The dream shifts totally, and I’m on a beach, watching a little boy and girl playing an odd game. One of them (I don’t recall which) is crawling face-down across the sand near the waves, carrying the other on his (her) back, and repeating a short phrase over and over; I think it’s “My will, my sand,” or something like that. The phrase is punctuated by pushing a hand into the sand, making a pattern of tracks. Then, I am on my knees at the edge of the water, which now seems brackish and stale, not moving like waves. This scene of the dream seems like I’m having multiple perspectives – I’m simultaneously watching it, hearing about it, and participating in it. Someone is explaining that I have to take a long journey, following the trail of the White Fox through the sand, which has now become a desert. From the participating perspective, I am crawling on my hands and knees over lots and lots of white sand; it doesn’t seem harsh or hot, though. I see some nails on the ground, and I pick them up and drive them point-first into the ground near a wall, so that nobody will get stuck on them. Finally, I get to a place with a tall tower; it almost looks like a very long pole, reaching up into the sky. It is surrounded by lush tropical plants. As I look up along the pole, it glows at the top with a pearly golden-white light; the light moves down the pole, and eventually into me. It feels very energizing.
There is someone else here; I think that it’s the person I was calling White Fox earlier. He gives me several things, but I don’t remember much about them. Next thing I know, I’m walking back to my car, back at the parking lot of the gym, with some other person with me. I don’t remember who. I have a large skillet, like the 9″ Revere skillet we use to sautee with, and I take it and put the handle between my knees with the skillet part upside-down, and sit on the skillet; it raises me into the air like a small flying broom (we watched Spiderman last night, and I think this is from the Green Goblin’s flying craft). I float along at about shoulder height, still talking to my companion, steering the skillet by its handle. I am practicing maneuvering it; much of it is done by leaning, but the handle also helps to steer and raise or lower it in the air. I don’t remember the gist of our conversation, except that it seemed like we were going on a journey somewhere. We get to the car, but now it’s a blue truck, like a Ford F150. I put the skillet into a backpack in the back of the truck; for a moment, I worry that it might fly out, but I think it will be OK. We get into the truck, with me on the passenger side, and drive off.
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