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Lisa and I were in our Mercury Villager and I was probably driving. We pulled into a gas station and pulled the Villager alongside one of the gas pumps at one of the multiple gas-pump islands at this place. I got out of the van, closed the door, and stood there facing toward the front of the van, and noticed there was one other gas pump island besides the one I stood at. There may have been more than one, but I vaguely remember seeing the outline of at least one other pump to the right. I then opened the flap that covered the gas cap and put the nozzle into the gas tank opening. There were numerous other vehicles at the other islands getting gas as well and they were all the same color white as my Villager. The vehicles were different; small compacts and SUVs comparable to mine, but no other vehicles exactly like mine. It was not quite nighttime but kinda twilghty, if you catch my drift. The UV lights of the station produced that inner glow to just this area and darkened the perimeter of this station. As I situated the nozzle in the gas tank to automatically fuel my white beast, Lisa and I walked to the front of the Mini-Mart type entrance. There may have been a glass door there leading in, just like you see at all other Food Mart places with gas pumps outside, but we stayed outside because we came across a rack of munchies where doughnuts, chips, and other assorted gastrointestinal ickies stood at attention on the four horizontal, wire, 9-inch racks jutting out at 80-degree angles. The two of us looked at them for just a second before we turned back to see how our van was doing. It wasn’t there. As any normal human would do, we assumed we were looking in the wrong place so we eyed the station over to find our van. I did this and the other white vehicles in the place made me think from time to time: Oh there it is, oh wait, nope, that ain’t it. After a minute we realized that our van had indeed been stolen. It was a sickening feeling, one that has never happened to me. It was almost shock, and what was amazing about it was that it only took maybe 10 seconds for us to turn our backs and the van was gone. Lisa and I looked around for the van and couldn’t believe what was happening. The next thing I recall is being with my mom and dad. My dad was alive in this dream and he looked like he did after he had the stroke that paralyzed the right side of his body. He had that hunched-over look and was using a cane to trudge along. I remember seeing mom and dad by a metal gate of some sort that stretched across the road, just like the one that blocked their driveway when they owned that property on Tanwax Lake. I don’t know if the place we were at was that actual place, but the road we were on reminded me of the driveway there. I think I was on the side of the gate that was outside the driveway, and my mom and dad were on the side inside the driveway. I recall telling them about what had happened to my van and instead of showing concern for what had happened, they started laughing at me. I considered this to not be appropriate because they were laughing at my misfortune. They didn’t seem to care and they continued laughing and cackling away like they were glad to see that I was going through tough times because they had to go through them so why the hell shouldn’t I? They could have just been laughing because they thought I wouldn’t care and it wouldn’t bother me, so they just laughed and laughed. The next thing I recall is being in a room that was probably inside a building there on that lake property. There was a cat in the room and although the cat didn’t look like my cat I have now, Tiger, I knew that this cat was indeed Tiger. Tiger is a tabby and looks just like one but in this dream he was black with a fluff of white in the neck area and maybe a spot of white somewhere further back along his body. I at first wondered if this could really be Bandit, my other kitty, but the shape of the body told me that this was Tiger, which goes to show that I can tell those two cats apart even if they had the same color fur. I think I was in that little cabin by the side of the house that I used to live in when I was 19 or 20, and which Ron, Dexter and Stephan (even Charles) used as a bedroom when they still lived with my parents. I had some type of sword with me and for some reason I was whacking at Tiger’s neck and was trying to cut his head off. The sword was dull because whenever I took a slice at Tiger’s neck his head remained on. Eventually, however, the sword did manage to cut away at his neck and I could see an open slice there about half an inch deep. The cut completely encircled his neck and flapped open when Tiger walked around, showing the bright red meat inside the fur. I didn’t see any blood, just the wet pinkish red meat. I don’t know why I felt it necessary to cut Tiger’s head off; I felt like it was the right thing to do and didn’t feel bad about doing it all, which is exactly the opposite of what would happen in real life. I remember dad being in the room and he may have inquired as to what I was doing. I told him that I was trying to, “Cut its head off.” Dad didn’t seem to act like there was anything wrong with this, as did I, so I continued following Tiger around the room and occasionally swing my sword at his neck to try to decapitate him. He kind of mewed a little when his neck was flapping open, which I thought was weird because he was still able to meow even when I was doing this to him, and he didn’t seem much alarmed about what was going on, although he did act a little concerned. I never did get his head cut off before the dream ended.
1
I was at a gathering of some sort, and was sitting at a picnic table. I think I was outside but I’m not sure. There may have been more than 20 to 30 people wandering around this area I was at. As I sat at this picnic table, a cop approached me and that’s when I realized what I was doing there. I was here doing some type of photo job and the cop asked me about the different types of photo packages we offered. He asked Lisa for a brochure and Lisa handed him one. There was some type of sticky label thingy on the brochure and this probably had printed on it the different types of packages we offered for the events we do. I concentrated on explaining to the cop about the packages we have that have smaller photos in them, like wallet sized, because apparently he wanted to get some strips of pictures for his kids that were graduating. I know I thought of this because of the Auburn School District RFQ Lisa and were presented with and how they wanted strips of pictures of around the 1-7/8 x 1-3/8 size in strips of six for each child in the school. The cop wanted something similar to this for his kids and I felt a little concerned because I never really printed out pictures in this way before but I knew I could do it, I guess. I vaguely recall an older couple approaching the table and inquiring about our photo packages as well.
2
I was in a boot camp type of scenario. There were a lot of army men around in army uniforms and I guess I was one of them. I came across the actor Mel Gibson, who was also in uniform, and he looked just like he did in that commercial for the movie We Were Soldiers. Although I never did see that movie, I did see him in this dream just as he looked in the advertisement for it. He was with some other military man and the two of them noticed me. Mel was around some type of machinery, a piece or artillery firing thing or something like that. He looked like he had been in a battle or two because there was something weird about his left arm. There was something on the equipment he was next to that needed adjusting, so he grabbed a handle on it and started pumping it back and forth with his left hand, like he was tightening something with a large ratchet. That’s when I noticed something strange about his left arm. Underneath his armpit I could see a metal gear thing protruding out from under his skin. I got the impression that he had gotten wounded in war and his arm had gotten damaged so he had to get some kind of metal prosthesis implanted in his arm so he was able to continue to use it. The gear that stuck out had metal teeth on it and the thing looked like part of a motorcycle sprocket that the chain wounds around on the back tire. Just part of it was sticking out, about two or three inches of it, and it wasn’t circular but looked like that sprocket thing that had been cut in half and then implanted into his arm. His entire arm may have been a machine, and because of this it gave him more strength in his arm than if it was just regular old flesh and blood. Because of this, he pumped and pumped that ratchet and when he did the metal gear sprocket thing would retract and emerge from the area just on the upper end of the bicep and near the armpit with each turn he made. Because his arm was stronger than the average man’s, he was able to turn the tool and get the adjustment made, whereas a regular man with just flesh and bone would not have been able to do it.
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