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11/12/2010
"Gold Rush"

I was working back at the insurance company, where I'd used to work, a few years ago. At first, it just seemed to be regular office life. There was a lot of conversation that went on, but I don't remember much of it. I do remember being hit on by an attractive, slightly older woman, and just kind of smiling it off. Come to find out, instead of being just an insurance company, we were also, apparently, a mint. There was a goldsmith there, who kind of reminded me of the Haitian, from Heroes, and he was more or less "making" this gold, by weaving a bunch of metals together, into long, golden ropes, and then would break down the compound and press coins out of them. We were printing so many, that I almost couldn't fathom not being able to keep one or two for myself. I mean, it was like an endless supply of gold, here. Surely they wouldn't miss one or two coins.

At first, I tried to ask KE, my old boss. She adamantly refused. Keeping a playful tone, I jabbed at her a few times, to see if she would give in. I said that we could just "pretend they fell off the delivery truck," and she refused again. I could tell that she was getting kind of annoyed, so I let it be and started walking back to my desk. On the way over, I passed the smithy. There was a large pile of coins just sitting there in front of me. By this time, I was determined. I glanced around real quick and swiped two coins, putting them in my pocket. I was curious to how much they would be worth, but really, I was more interested in just having the coins than cashing them in. (Heard a commercial on the radio, the other day, about the rarity of gold coins, and how the government is putting some back into circulation. Probably what sparked the gold coins, in this dream.)

Well, as it turns out, these coins were being forged for some kind of foreign cartel, and they were not happy, to find out that some of their shipment was missing. After I had gotten off from work, I'd gotten word that the cartel had come into the office, realized there were coins missing, shot the smithy (and my boss, I think. Not sure), and was on a manhunt for whoever might have taken them. Most of us had been hanging out at a pool or spring or something, when we got the news. Word was that the cartel knew where we were, and was on their way to see us. Immediately, I knew that I had to get out of there. After having made them come searching for me, I was convinced that they would shoot me on site, whether I gave them the coins back or not. Quickly, I got out of the water, and started heading away from the rest of the group.

I hadn't gotten completely free yet, though. There was a sequence here, when the cartel first showed up, and we were all running and hiding for our lives. I don't remember much of it at all. My recall skips ahead, to where a friend and I had broken away from the fray, and made it out of the area, to where we'd begun to think we were in the clear. (Don't remember who the friend was, though.) I still hadn't confessed to keeping the coins. It probably wasn't the wisest idea, but I was going to try to get out of this, without having to. We walked down a dirt road, surrounded by brush - heading somewhere I can't remember - when the cartel's Jeep turned onto the trail, behind us. When they saw us, the sped toward us, AK-47s waving in the air. We broke into frantic dashes in the opposite direction, the Jeep closing in. I tried to trail off, into the brush on the side of the road, but I knew that there was a man now right behind me, on foot, drawing down on me. I could practically feel how close he was. Knowing that attempting to crawl over the next ridge would have been futile, I rolled over on the embankment, onto my back, and stared up at the man with the huge silver handgun. He was only seconds away from squeezing the trigger. I could sense it. I knew I was about to die.

Suddenly, just as a stoic panic set in, I realized that this couldn't be happening! I was dreaming! The realization just suddenly slapped me in the face, brushing away all fear. With an evil grin, I stood up on the embankment, and started walking slowly toward the guy with the gun. He didn't know what to think. At first, he backed up a few feet, still aiming the gun in my direction. I knew he was going to shoot, so I braced for it - unafraid, because I knew his bullets would do nothing to me. He fired off a few rounds at me while walking backward in retreat. I didn't even feel the bullets at all (which is rare, even while lucid), and I just continued walking toward him. Finally, I got within arms reach and raised one arm, grabbing the barrel of his gun and crushing it like putty, in my grip. The fear in the man's eyes grew as he, no doubt, knew what was now in store for him...

Unfortunately, I don't remember anything after this point.

quite a vivid dream last night but still no lucidity since my first timy period of it the other week.

I was in Dundee at the seagate, just outside the church there. I was carrying 2 tesco bags for some reason and seemed to have made camp in a black tent at the bottom of the church stairs by the bench. I turned my back to go put some rubbish in the bin and when I turned round again the tent was flattened and flapping in the wind, while I saw a junkie lifting my stuff and putting it in a really strong, clear plastic bag.

He hadn't seen me yet, so I walked up behind him as he was about to cross the road and jerked the bag out of his hands, telling him "I don't think so mate!" He made a run for it and suddenly we were in the Perth road. He made a run for the flats that were opposite the Londis. I could see him in the window of the flats upstairs and it was as if all of the flats were joined together into one big flat, as he continued up Perth road through the flats.

I clearly remember one of his junkie mates that was with him. He had long dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, looked to be in his late 40's or early 50's and had a scraggly beard to match his hair. He was wearing a green jacket, like the kind of army surplus thing that Ewan used to wear and blue Jeans.

This guy shouted out the window for me to fuck off and I screamed back that he was a homeless junkie fuck who deserved to go to prison. I gave up on the chase at this point and the scenery shifted again.

I don't clearly remember where I was but I do remember laying the clear plastic bag that I'd stolen back from the Junkie next to a battered looking coffee table. As I pulled my stuff out of the bag, I realised that there was other peoples stuff in the bag as well. Purses and wallets mostly. I remember agonising in my dream over what to do with them. Should I keep the money in them and call the owners, giving them their cards etc, sans cash? Should I take them down to the police station and hand them in? Or should I just keep the cash and bin the evidence of ever having them?

I don't know when I decided but I found myself on the phone, calling round the owners to tell them to come and pick up their belongings from my house. At this point as far as I am concerned I am in my old house at south george street but on waking, it looked nothing like it. I clearly remember one of the purse owners saying "hello" when she answered the phone to me but don't remember any of the subsequent conversation.

That's it, I must have woken up or ended my REM cycle, as I don't remember anything after that.