a dream from the mid-1970s
The Young Messenger
The earliest image in the dream is that of a house, the front door opened
slightly as a hand is extended to give me an envelope. It is my understanding
that the envelope contains an important message and that I am to deliver
The setting is Washington Valley where I grew up in the foothills of the
Watchung Mountains in New Jersey. I am on a bicycle. The envelope and its
contents is to be carried to Pluckemin. There is a sense of responsibility
attached to bringing this letter to Pluckemin and I understand that I am
not to be diverted from my task.
The road is approximately three miles to where I am going. The valley sweeps
up on the right side of the road into trees, but at one point there is a
clearing, a wide expanse of meadow, and a farmhouse.
Beside the farmhouse there was a large bonfire with as many as two or three
dozen people surrounding it. I wanted to go over and see what was happening,
but continued on my way.
While returning from delivering the envelope I did indeed stop, ditched
the bike and walked up to the bonfire. As I drew near I could see that most
of the people around the fire were young like myself or a little older.
While standing near the flames I became aware of a presence at my side.
It was a slender girl with pale skin, long dark hair. She slipped her arm
into mine and I had the sensation of becoming warmer, though I was already
warmed by the pulsating heat of the fire.
It was dusk and her eyes glistened, reflecting the light. There was a suggestiveness
in the way she leaned against me. It seemed that she was inviting me to
join her away from the fire.
We walked toward the open garage door of the farmhouse and entered the darkness.
Suddenly, in the instant we disappeared from view of the others, the girl
was transformed from a sensuous seductress into a blood-thirsty, fire snorting
bull, possessed by savage madness, intent on one purpose: to gore, trample
and destroy me. The massive razor-horned beast shifted its weight, flashes
of demonic violence quivering through every muscle as it prepared to charge.
My legs buckled in terror as I backed into a tablelike workbench. As the
bull came lunging forward I had managed somehow to clambered up onto the
workbench. By some quirk, in my frantic effort to defend myself, I grasped
hold of the bull's horn and, pivoting, used the momentum of the charge to
hurl the bull in an arching vault through the air. (ednote: in real life
I had taken a judo class in college.) The bull crashed with a heavy thud
onto the concrete floor.
For a brief moment I felt exultant at the ease with which I had eluded to
monster's rush. But to my horror the enraged bull scrambled to its feet,
more frenzied and furious than ever and I found myself overwhelmed by a
sense of doom.
In the same instant I caught sight of a large wooden beam in the back of
the garage up which I might be able to climb high enough to avoid being
gored. You konw how it is in dreams where you're running and it seems like
forever. It was like that. I made it to the beam and with all my strength
leaped up, working my arms and legs, climbing in spasmodic bursts, shimmying
upward until my strength was spent. I hung there trembling, exhausted, agitated
and relieved, looking down at the bull's futililty. Remarkably, the massaive
raging thrusts of the bull could not reach the position I had gained.
When I turned my head to hold more tightly to the beam, I saw before my
eyes the bleeding, nail-pierced feet of the Christ. I had been saved by
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