Baja Journal, fire dream, 11/28/1985

Last night I dreamed that there were two worlds. One world for artists and poets and for dark-haired people, and another world for those who ran commerce and were light haired.

We were riding in a bus singing in our dark world. I was with old school friends. One of us realize the driver had abandoned the bus or the trolley and that we were being sent in, a frame up to our deaths. I presume. The situation wasn't much different than that of Nazi Germany.

We jumped out of the moving bus and headed for the creek. Soon, they were searching the woods for us. And one by one, they caught us. I almost escaped detection by hiding behind a waterfall, but one of my friends hidden too near me, gave the hiding place away.

They took us to the summer camp at the Barbano's on Arroyo Rd. in Forest Knolls. I often visit these places of childhood in dreams. And though I tried to keep the secret of being an artist from them—the Nazis? They decided we were expendable after, all and killed us one by one. I was the last artist, and they burned me by fire.

But I was a messenger and we needed to leave some code for those who will come after us. And when the scouts from my world, the dark world, came, they looked through my ashes and found an inscribed Chinese symbol similar to the character for big man.

The secret letter was an ygriega, the Greek Y, or double ll in Spanish. I think it was a symbol of something larger, as a message was carved into the sides of the letter. I know the symbol got into the right hands. I know this because I was there and I saw the carrier exclaim with joy and carry that character back to the other world.

Such strange dreams the world is made of.

11/28/1985