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    Not Exactly a Bank Robbery

    by , 09-29-2017 at 03:29 PM (65 Views)
    Morning of September 29, 2017. Friday.

    My dream self decides to rob a bank. My conscious self is partially extant in having memory of my marriage and family, though I also seem much younger physically and mentally, by several years before I was married.

    I go into a bank. I have a revolver, but I never use it. I calmly sit down at a desk where an unfamiliar female is working. I give her a note that tells her to give me all the money. She calmly seems to begin to get some together and does not seem frightened.

    At one point, the bank manager, an unfamiliar male, walks into the room from my left. He stands for a short time watching us but does not seem to suspect anything.

    Eventually, the female hands me a large envelope. I take it and leave. I decide to become invisible, though I also phase through the wall of the bank in case there is security at the entrance. I fly around for several minutes, still maintaining invisibility. (This of course is non-lucid dream control. My subconscious self does not know I am dreaming, but a subliminal thread of my conscious self does.)

    I end up at Marilyn’s house (Marilyn is an older half-sister on my mother’s side), except that I do not recall that she had died and she appears as she did in the 1980s. It is also not her house (as in America) as in real life but a variation of the Barolin Street house in Australia where Zsuzsanna and I and our family last lived. There also seem to be some elements of Evelyn’s house of which I last visited in real life at age five.

    I think I see a police car stop in front of the house, though the top of the car soon seems to have some sort of metal part like a luggage rack rather than a police car’s strobe light device. At least five men, all of whom look exactly alike and are wearing some sort of yellowish-brown uniform, come into the house. I decide to hide in the basement via the trapdoor in the bathroom (though the Barolin Street house did not have a basement, this feature based on the Loomis Street house) but I soon change my mind when I see they are just visiting my relatives.

    I open the large packet that I was given at the bank. I first seem to see colorful foreign money, but then I realize there is no money in the packet. There are a few documents. There are a few pieces of paper with poetry about family. There are also a number of small transparent packets of herbs which she apparently thought would benefit me. One of the packets apparently contains alfalfa, yet it actually says “alpaca” on the label. I puzzle over this until my dream fades.

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