Dream: The Aragorn Tree House
Dream 20040211, 5:00 AM:
There is some sort of blood disease that is going through the population. It is like the disease in “28 Days Later” – except that instead of becoming a raving killing monster, the victims all become amazingly suspicious, ready to see conspiracy and enemies everywhere. I remember something vague about people swinging by ropes from a big pile of makeshift equipment; they are not hanging, they are suspended in harnesses. It has something to do with allowing them to interact with one another, but keeping them from killing each other. The dream seems kind of like a movie, kind of like a Steven King book. Chris is reading the Dark Tower series, and I think that some of the images are from stuff he’s told me about.
Then, I find myself ushered into a doorway with a small group of people. I look around, and the door shuts behind us; it is plywood, with a rope to pull it closed but no handle. We’re inside a big room, painted white; someone explains that we’re inside the Aragorn Tree House, which an architect has designed as a safe hideout to escape the disease.
We live there for quite a long time – probably months, maybe more. I remember being up on the roof with a couple of other people – at least one woman and maybe a couple of other people. The woman walks near to the edge of the roof, and slips. She catches herself, but we all freak out, afraid that if she fell off, or if she knocked anything down from the roof onto people below, they’d find out that we’re up there. It’s kind of like Anne Frank, hiding out above where people wouldn’t think to look. Our daily life seems very ordinary, but the fear of discovery is constant.
I am downstairs near to the entrance, and a large red dog, an Irish Setter, bounces out through the dog door. The house now looks like the Kingwood House. I try to coax the dog back inside; again, if somebody sees her, our secret could be exposed. She won’t come in, and I run to find her owner, trying to explain to everyone that she won’t come in off the porch. It is pouring rain.
There is a woman here; she’s my Mom, but it’s like she’s my Mom as an actress, and she’s playing some other character. I remark to myself that she’s good in the role, and that it’s neat to see her playing a role other than the regular one. It seems more like watching a movie at this point.
We hear the sound of vehicles, cars and maybe a helicopter – apparently people have found us. Someone explains that it was the oil from the roof that got into the rain water, and now everyone knows because of the water. The sense is that they drank the water and it somehow communicated our presence to them. We are all upset, and feel beseiged.
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