This dream was peculiarily poetic, and I feel I must share it with you now.
It begins simply. I am working somewhere, in a kitchen of sorts, and we are trying to prevent people from crossing into it. This part, for some reason, strikes me as being unimportant.
The dream does not obtain relevance, it would seem, until a small child crosses over this boundary... but not into a kitchen, into a snowy white field. I pick up the child, and hold him out to a man. "This yours?" I ask.
The man nods. "Yes, that's mine." He takes it. "He died two years ago."
"What?" I am shocked, because the child is clearly alive.
"Yes, don't you remember?"
I look down. The child is not a human child anymore. It is a rabbit. A small, snowy-white rabbit. It bounds across the snow into the field beyond the boundary. It seems to flicker constantly in and out of sight. Sometimes it becomes invisible, and all I can see are the foot prints it leaves behind, but at other times it is clearly visible.
I try to chase it, knowing that this incarnation of the dead child is somehow important, leading me to answers. It grows, the feet changing shape until I am aware I am chasing something much larger across the snow, much more dangerous. A tiger now flickers before me, at first all I can see is its feet, but eventually I am clearly aware of the great predator bounding through the snowy fields.
As we run, the tiger begins to fade as well. No longer am I chasing an animal, but a trail of connected scrolls, each one filling with words slowly. Finely handwritten script, like something written in the early 20th century. The scrolls, I know, tell me the story of this boys life. At this point, I can hear music, loud hard-rock music, playing in the background.
I continue running, and the nature of the scrolls has changed. I know there is something different, something sinister now, the music grows louder. I unravell the scroll and to my great dismay I observe the true nature of heart of the child (and in my mind I know that I have followed his life, and he is a man), as the scroll reveals the unmistakable simble of a Swastica in a white circle, against a red bacground.
I cry out in shock, and I can hear the words of the song, telling about what he did.
One line, sung out with the great anguish and power that is now filling my heart "
Bloody Murder!"I return to the father, and watch as the entire nature of the dream changes. He is in anguish, and I follow him, watching him place himself into a chamber where a purple light fills my vision, and he slowly lowers his head, putting himself into hiding until some time, when his pain can be removed. A green light goes out. I awaken.
