It began like the Halloween 2007 Episode of CSI: NY that I watched last night: a blunt-force trauma guy wandering around a crowded street with a bunch of guys in zombie costumes. How this relates to the rest of the dream I don’t recall.
I forget what happens in between.
Then there’s the part where I’m at Ashley’s house. Again, decidedly unromantic. We’re racing around to house to make Cheryl and her new boyfriend comfortable. I don’t know if one of them is sick or something. It involves a lot of running around the kitchen and creative uses for the utensils we find there. At one point, I come to the realization that the fact I’m step-siblings with Ashley gets me over my crush. I don’t know how that works (now or in the dream). Cheryl’s boyfriend is not Dad, but apparently it’s some guy with some sort of familial or symbolically familial relationship with me, though the latter wouldn’t lend much credence to seeing Ashley as my step-sister. There’s some laying on the bed that I can’t remember much about.
There’s a strange transition because all of a sudden it’s me who’s close to death or something. Strangely, I don’t recall any feelings of fear or accepting the afterlife. It’s more about this little community finding me to be some kind of inspiration. I’m either physically incapable or superhumanly capable.
The part I most clearly remember is this: I’m giving free range of this church in the middle of a sermon. The pastor is a very stuffy, dogmatic guy who looks like Rev. Graham. I start bouncing below this large balcony that the pastor is preaching from. I keep grabbing onto the railing, causing the ends of the balcony to collapse. One side I destroy, then I go for the other. Everything has super significance. When I tear down everything on the left side of the balcony I just leap up and use my head to break a hole in the floor. The pastor, who was trying to aid or stop me, gets hurt and points to the bookcase behind the former wall, allowing me to climb up.
What I find up there, my quest, was the sound system, which I play loudly, only finding music. It had fallen into disuse. This is apparently symbolic of free speech against a tyrannical pastor. Later, a parishioner who was a friend of mine, as taken a lecture into the aisles and now regularly interrogates senators and other people, to get to the truth in some kind of town meeting setting. I try telling him that it was a whim that got me to that point, but I keep getting interrupted.
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