March 19, 2004

• Strange Dreams

  Last night I had two dreams that were rather strange. They were connected, as if the second dream was a continuation of the first.

  I was young and single. I was also a uniformed cop, no longer quite a rookie. I was at a party with a bunch of other cops, perhaps forty or fifty of them, in a motel outside of the city. None of us were in uniform at the moment, of course. Several splinter groups had moved to different rooms because of the crowded conditions, but I shared a table with five others in what seemed more like a dining area than a bar despite being dimly lit.

  I had to leave the room briefly to visit the men's room and, on my way back, picked up beers for myself and the lady who was accompanying me, more of a rookie than myself. When I got back to the table, I discovered that my date had been murdered, strangled, but the other four at the table hadn't noticed.

  People got upset, things got very active for a while but then settled down, and an investigation started immediately. I was apparently not considered a suspect.

  Then I woke. In a few minutes I went back to sleep and resumed the dream.

  This time I was outside the motel, in the parking area. It had lots of oak trees and gravel roads leading to independent cabins.

  I had already been questioned and was just waiting. A woman on her way to be questioned stopped and asked me to hold something for her, a small revolver with a short barrel, until she got out of questioning, which she said would be about half an hour.

  I was still holding the weapon in my hand when another officer walked up and took it away from me, saying he only needed to borrow it for a few minutes. I tried to keep him from taking it and I tried to follow him to get it back, but he disappeared.

  A few moments later I found him, sitting in a large, dark-colored car parked by itself under a group of trees. He had stuffed several napkins in his mouth and had placed a piece of glossy paper, printed in black on white and folded like a small brochure, in front of his mouth. He then stuck the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  I woke up.

  I haven't written any mystery stories, but this could be the basis of one. I have several characters to develop, two living and two dead, and I can add lots more. I have an interesting situation. The locale isn't bad. This has to go into my future stories file.

  Typically, when I start to dream an important story dream, the dreams will keep coming back for several days. This time I had two quite vivid dreams in one night. If I get more dreams about the same situation, it may be more than just a story.

  • 18:26
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