I am enjoying this period of active dreaming, and had another action-filled dream last night.
The girlfriend Anne and I catch a ride downtown with two cop friends of her mom’s (in the dream, we don’t know these people in real life). They are bobbies and have British accents, so I am not sure if we were in the UK or what. They get off at their district station and we get out to walk around a small downtown area. Then we are wandering through a neighborhood when I realize that my backpack is missing.
I am panic-stricken (I ride the bus in real life, and regularly carry a backpack with me for practical reasons). We backtrack through the neighborhood searching for it, and then we see it hanging from the side of an excavated pit. The pit is about 20 feet deep and maybe the width and length of a medium-sized house. The backpack is hanging closer to the top; I should be able to reach in and grab it with minimal difficulty.
There is a brown horse wandering around the bottom of the pit. And then we see a man dumping explosives down into it, indifferent to the presence of the horse. The humorous part is I am calculating whether I can run over there and retrieve my backpack before he sets off the explosives. In real life, I would be concerned about the horse. I don’t even carry any real valuables in my backpack, just bus schedules, a spare set of keys, some aspirin and a cheap pair of sunglasses. The dream skips forward and I soon have my backpack again. I am uncertain about the fate of the horse.
The symbolism here is rather blatant and made me laugh after I woke up. The pit could symbolize the subconscious. The backpack my attachment to the material world. The man planting the explosives is probably a lwa. The horse? The horse is me. In Vodou, the person who is ridden by the lwa is called a chwal, which means horse in Kreyol. So the message appears to be to let go of material attachments and ego (obliteration), and descend into the subconscious.
Back to the dream: Anne and I wander into this house where all these people are hanging out. They appear to be a mixture of whites, blacks and people who are a mixture of both. A woman pulls back the curtains covering the living room window and we see all these people walking by; it looks like a mass migration.
I go outside with a young couple. We jump in a car and start heading down the road to see where everyone is going. We are the only car on the road, and we hear strange noises. Then this hippo-sized dinosaur creature pops out of the bushes and we wreck our car.
Then I am back at the house, and the dream takes on apocalyptic overtones. A child of about 7 and a couple of adults are with me in the front yard, and we are being circled by a pack of coyotes. Somehow I manage to get the coyotes to back off (I think I growled at them) and we make it safely back inside the house.
Once inside, more details about the place and its inhabitants become clear. At one end of the room is a mechanical door. It looks kind of like an elevator door except it’s made of a black rubbery material. I refuse to sit with my back to this door. I tell people it’s because of a bad smell, but really I am just uneasy about it for some unknown reason.
There is an old man in the room. His facial features are African, but he is not real dark. The scraggly white hair encircling his bald head is not very curly. He appears to be the leader. Everyone, including me, calls him “Papa.” There is also a beautiful Siamese cat in the house that is not supposed to be Snowman but looks exactly like him.
Papa leads the group of people down a seemingly endless series of escalators. I am near the rear of the group. We keep descending, level after level, and then I woke up.
