TOW 		             
Dreaming; Night of
March 11, 1986
       6:40              I was in India, in the Presidential Palace Complex. This dream was a lengthy and dramatic one, well-visualized. I played around on some ultra-sophisticated computers. My best friend was there with me. Much more here, forgotten. Then I was in a large cafeteria, eating. I got into a fight with someone who provoked me and really beat him around. Then the super-tough guard/overseer guy that everyone was afraid of came and dragged me off. In the hallway outside the cafeteria, I'd had enough of his treatment, so I beat him up. Everyone in the cafeteria loved it; it turned out that he was the son of the ruler (an old woman). A few more things occurred. All through the preceeding part was more plot, specifically, things with several different women. Then, the ruler turned all power over to me (willingly). My friend was with me, to be second in command. We had to cross over from our balcony to the presidential balcony, from where we could go into her (our) quarters. Below, was a huge plaza filled with thousands of Indians, who were very happy at the switch of power. When I was in the presidential quarters (my friend was planning a celebration), I spoke some more with the former leader. Then there was a sort of pause, while a narrator, using visual aids, pointed out the physical strengths and fitness of her son and myself. Then attention returned back to the dream action. I leapt for the door to the inside of the palace just as it began to open. I slammed it shut and threw the bolt. This offered only a temporary reprieve, however, because he broke the door down. I, with a little aid from his mother, managed to patch up the bad feelings between us and win his allegiance. He ended up crying, embraced me, and swore fealty. My friend and I stepped out on the balcony. We immediately noticed something strange but couldn't put our finger on it immediately. Then I noticed that the rows of parked cars were disappearing. I somehow made a connection and swung about, to see the old woman locking us out on the balcony, regaining the reins of power. My PoV shifted. I was inside the room (my perception), watching the son's incredulous reaction to his mother's treachery. She managed to convince him that he had been brainwashed by me and that things were now again as they should be. Then my PoV shifted back to me outside. There was a long stone staircase down to the ground far below. Hundreds of Americans were pouring out of the palace and streaming down this staircase, as they had all been ordered to leave immediately. The steps were covered with blueberries from the celebration, which made it rather slick and dangerous as the crowd descended its steepness. I told my friend to go down it with the others, but I went back into the palace instead. I passed some of the last Americans as they left. None of them knew who was responsible for the coup, and I overheard one say to another, "We'll never know who was responsible for this. All we can be sure of is that it won't be one of the many people who later write about their role." I headed for the computer room (bringing the dream nicely full circle) and began punching away on the most powerful computer on which I could (somehow) siphon away the woman's power and regain my position. My hands were racing across the keys, trying to complete the short sequence necessary, when she entered with a pistol. She cried out for me to stop, and, when I didn't, shot me in the forehead three times, leaving me quite dead. My PoV shifted to my friend, who was well on his way to freedom, and a bit more happened (perhaps a eulogy). (C)