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The following was first written the day after the dream, in roughly 2010.
It was edited the day after I talked to Loren at Monte Rio on the Russian River at Brett and Bruce's mini-triatalon (May 2016). Of course, this is gibberish to anyone who hasn't read about the dream yet, so have at it...
I was an American living in India, and for some reason the US dropped a couple of nuclear bombs on India. The Indians decided that they should do as the westerners do: retaliate. So they planned to expose some Americans to pieces of the radioactive material, killing them in the same way the Americans killed their people.
I was among about a hundred sacrificial Americans gathered into a small underground cave-like room. The whole affair was very organized as the Indians went quietly about their business. There was no hatred on their faces - only sadness. Although the lighting was very poor, I tried very hard to stay close to my friends.
Note: Whenever I am in a tight spot in my dreams, I ALWAYS get away safely. And this was no different. I somehow knew I would get out of this.
A group of men in white coats were moving through the crowd towards the front of the room. They were smart Americans who were spared their lives to help plant the radioactive material. I recognized one of them as a guy that I work with. Ah, HA! I thought, there is my escape hatch. I shuffled through the crowd of Americans and nuzzled up next to him.
Heh Loren! He turned and looked at me very seriously and whispered, “Tack at the Hisperianonlochold.”
I wanted to say – "the What?" but instead whispered, “OK, thanks!” and eased back into the crowd as he and the rest of the white coats continued on and disappeared.(BTW: Tack is a mariner term which loosely means 'turn sharply'.)
What was the name of the place? Hesolochi-something?? Oh well, I’m sure I will recognize it when I see it.
I was feeling pretty confidant now, and so I relaxed to watch the whole thing unfold. Then I found myself alone, standing still and quiet near a small puddle of something on the dirt floor. A gentle Indian man approached me. “How obedient you are. You stand quietly right were you were told.”
I swelled with pride as I thought, “Yes, I have always been an obedient boy. I always do what I’m told.”
Next, I was lining up on the bank of an underground river for the swimming event. I had a bit of a wait as there were many Americans waiting their turn. There was a murmur making its way back to me. “The water is very hot!” Yep, I thought, this is the place where they get us! Too bad I won't be going in - I love hot water. I can sit and relax in hot water for hours.
Just then I started to feel a little lightheaded, then more and more until I thought I would faint. I had better sit down. Suddenly I realized, ”Oh NO! They ALREADY got me! – I have been exposed” I flashed back to standing on that spot very obediently. That stuff by my feet WAS the radioactive material. They outsmarted me! This is not a movie; this is not a dream from which I eventually escape. I am dying!!!
As I looked forward through the line of Americans getting ready to plunge into the hot river, I thought, “this is bullshit – I’m outta here! I don’t have to play this stupid game anymore. What are they gonna do – kill me?” I bolted from the line and took off down river. I was mentally daring anyone to stop me. No one did.
I hopped on a Disneyland-type of trolley. You mean all along I could have just left and no one would have stopped me? It was unbelievably easy to leave. I never looked back at the Americans lined up at the river. I don’t think they even noticed I was gone.
The trolley moved into the glaring sunlight above ground. It’s over. I’m dying. So this is what it feels like. For the last several years, I have wondered what it would be like to come face-to-face with death. Now I know – lucky me.
The trolley moved slowly though a shopping mall. I was left alone by a few Indians that were sitting around me. As the trolley stopped, I glanced towards what should have been a store front, but instead was a living quarters. My Mom was standing in what seemed to be her apartment. I jumped off and as I approached her, she glanced my way and smiled.
“Gary, I thought you were dead?” I hugged her for what would be the last time. “I will be soon, Mom.” Softly she answered, “How nice it is to see you one last time”. Yes, I thought, how nice.
As I held her, I gazed into a mirror hanging on the wall just behind her. "Who the hell is that?" A moment later, I barely recognized my own face, my mouth drawn down on one side, my face wrinkled around my eyes.
Frightened – I woke up.
As I lie awake in bed, I recognized this as the same feeling I have had for the last several years. I look into a mirror expecting to see myself, but startled to see an old man looking back at me. Yes, I have the fatal disease and there is NO way out.