Thursday, August 2, 2012

USOC -- Olympic Dream Street 9/11

[originally published in may 2011; updated today]

usoc coincidence confluences...starting with its building in the eye of horus park

Dream Analysis Quiz
  • Do you dream often or rarely?  
  • Are your dreams scary or groovy?  
  • Do you dream randomly, or do you have recurring dreams?  
  • Do remember them vaguely and fleetingly, or vividly and forever?
  • Are you ever able to take control of your dream, and turn it from a nightmare to an awesome dream?  
  • Have you ever spoken to a loved one from whom you were separated...and afterward felt an inner peace?
  • Have you ever had a dream that came true?
  • How do you feel about dreams -- are they just the detritus of the day, replaying itself as you slumber...or is there ever a deeper meaning to a dream?
I guess each dream does each dreamer.

My answers to those questions are:  Rarely do I dream, and rarely do I remember them; I am often bemused by my dreams, and whenever possible, I tell my husband about the dream as soon as I can.

From the Harris Burdick Mysteries
When I was a teenager, I used to have a recurring dream of being picked up by a wind that suddenly died, and left me falling -- I usually awoke immediately before impact, and can't remember ever dreaming that I actually died.  One night I dreamed it occurred to me while I was sitting in like one of those dark-blue, hard plastic school chairs.  As I began to fall, I managed to take hold of the fear that would always overtake me, and to my surprise, stopped falling; after a bit of a wobble, the chair and I rose high up in the air.  The night was still and dark, the stars twinkled all about, and the full moon shone sweetly as I flew over the Atlantic Ocean...actually landing in Holland and visiting with family there before waking.  I never dreamed the falling dream again...and was amazed many years later, when I came across this picture that my now 18-year-old son showed me during 4th grade parent-teacher conference night.

I believe that sometimes, you dream what you dream because something is weighing on your mind; at other times, you might be feverish or on some sort of medication; but there are other times when a dream can heal a hidden hurt within you, and still others when your dream is a portent.

There's a really amazing site called "I Dream of Obama" -- I encourage everyone to check out what types of dreams others have had, and felt moved to write about.

The Bible states that sometimes, God communicates with us when we are dreaming; some of the most amazing stories in the Bible arose from a dream…dreamt by ordinary people who recognized it for what it was, and then wrote it down for posterity.

I would say that I clearly remember only about twelve of my dreams; more than half of those dreams were prophetic in nature, and six of them were what I refer to as "God Dreams" -- prophetic dreams wherein I knew while I was dreaming that I was  communicating with spiritual beings and/or witnessing supernatural occurrences.

I had a dream on September 10, 2001…the night before the Twin Towers came down; I'm not sure what it all means, but because I dreamed it on the eve of this disaster, because it was so vivid, and because of its subject -- which is near and dear to my heart, my hometown, the City of Colorado Springs and the people who reside here -- I am sharimg that dream with you now.

The "God Dreams" are always scary in a way; only one more official "God Dream" to go, which I will detail in an upcoming post; suffice it to say it featured a former president, it was terrifying, and it had something to do with America the Beautiful Park.

* * * * * * * *

In the dream, it was late in the afternoon of a fine Colorado Indian summer’s day.  I was walking north on the Tejon Street sidewalk, past the old Lorig's building (now the downtown USOC building) and Hibbard's, with a gait like that of a woman in a Sheer Energy commercial.

I’d just passed by my old haunt The Ritz – where I’d behaved scandalously on nights without number -- and remember pausing for just a moment…toying with the notion of stopping in for a drink.  Thinking better of it, I continued walking until I reached the crosswalk at Pikes Peak and Tejon. 

I stood waiting for the light to change with a large group of people. It was a lot like in New York City, where whole crowds would cross the street all at once.  The traffic, too, was much brisker and heavier…again, reminiscent of New York City.

The light changed, and all of the pedestrians crossed the street.  I moved through the intersection and continued walking north on Tejon.  I had just passed the Wachovia Bank building (probably just a weird coincidence when I learned that the listed owner of that building is "Busy Corner Property Management").

I began to hear a commotion taking place somewhere behind me -- first a honk, then several honks, and people shouting.  I thought nothing of it at first, but the sound of tumult grew louder – more shouting and honking, and now the squealing of brakes and the screeching of tires.

Wondering what was the matter. I saw there was a sudden traffic jam in the intersection of Pikes Peak and Tejon.  Vehicles were stopped haphazardly…and the drivers of the vehicles all stared at something approaching from the west, their expressions wide-eyed with horror and panic-stricken. 

Following their gazes, I at first saw nothing.  But then, coming around from a westerly direction was what I described at the time as a “crazy, naked white man.”  His face was clean-shaven, and he was running…a long, white-blonde shock of hair flowing behind him...and a massive erection that reached past his head. 

Valkyrie Installed in Colorado Springs Downtown!!June 21, 2012Valkyrie, powder coated steel, 116″ x 117″ x 95″, 2008 has been selected from 85 entries to be one of twelve sculptures installed in downtown Colorado Springs for a year long exhibition.The sculpture is part of the 14th Annual Art on the Streets exhibition in Downtown Colorado SpringsStop by the corner of Tejon and Pikes Peak downtown for a look and enjoy this picture as well.

He made not a sound, but had a wild and intent look on his face as he thrust and gestured toward the people stopped in the intersection.  People shouted and blared their horns at him, and several attempted to rush past him where he stood, but he prevented them from doing so, blocking them with his terrifyingly large member.

He touched several unfortunate people as he ran about; I knew instinctively that the people he’d touched with it were as good as dead.  Somehow, I also knew that the people who’d just made it through the intersection were safe.

“Oh, I hope those people will be alright,” I thought to myself.  “Thank God I made it through the intersection when I did!”

[note -- i have come to believe that what i thought was an erection was actually an Olympic torch]

* * * * * * * *

I shook off the weird nightmare, laughing with my husband that the crazy naked white man might possibly be one of Mom's as-yet-unknown boyfriends ("you will know him by his penis...")  I woke up the kids and started getting them ready for school; I turned on the t.v.. and saw the first tower burning. 

At first I just stood there, transfixed, doubting my eyes.  Just two short years earlier, we’d lived and worked in New York, and come to love it as our second home.  Just two short years earlier, my entire family had stood at the top of one of those towers, smiling and waving for the camera on a beautiful Indian Summer Day.

I screamed for my husband; recognizing something in the shrillness of my cry, he was instantly up, awake, and by my side.  We watched with horror as the second tower was hit, and I cried, “Oh my God, Oh my God, oh my God!!!”

I stared hard at the television, barely able to comprehend what I was witnessing.  Then the first tower came crashing down, and the whole family was crying and sobbing out loud, holding onto each other and hugging each other tight. 

My husband and I held hands, tight and whiteknuckled -- both of us practically incoherent with terrified astonishment…and when the second tower came crashing down, we collapsed against each other, moaning and weeping.

For months afterward, I scarcely believed what we’d seen was real.  Finally, I called a friend in the City, and asked him if it was true.  He said it was; the story he told of crossing the George Washington Bridge covered in ash became like the negative of a photograph, etched in my memory.

But now, nearly ten years later, the only fact of which I am certain is that those two buildings did, indeed, fall.

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