The Old Man
Begin: I was seated on a bench in a small room of a house, possibly built of adobe. The interior was painted white and was sparsely furnished. There were also in the room a woman, in (Mexican Indian ?) dress, and an old man who appeared to be Mexican Indian. The woman, who had been standing, left the room. I was seated about in the middle of a wall, a doorway leading to other rooms jus to my right. I knew the door to the street outside was there too. The old man was seated at the other end of the wall to my left, in a light, possible wicker, armchair, looking across to the opposite wall in front of me. About 10 feet separated us.
I had in my right hand what appeared and acted like the center spine of a large feather. I was idly grasping the very tip with my left hand and bending it into an arc until it nearly folded, then letting it snap back. A bit of the tip had already broken and the shaft was getting weak and loosing its spring near the bottom. The old man looked my way, amused at what I was doing, and spoke to me (in Spanish ?). I did not understand what he said and told him so. By gestures he made it clear he meant for me to snap it harder. I said it was already about to break, so I couldn't. He watched for a moment, then looked away.
I arose and walked across the room. The old man appeared to have fallen asleep. His head had fallen back and his eyes were closed. The feather spine had become a braided cord from which dangled tiny metal bangles. At the very tip hung a single tiny metal rod, about 1-1/4 inch long and about .050 inch diameter. There were other rods like this suspended along the length of the cord, and other items, possibly tiny bells.
For just a moment I held these suspended with the terminal rod exactly over the old man's third eye spot, about an inch from his face. In uncertainty, and not wishing to appear bazaar, I took it quickly away, but in that moment something had flowed through it, I could feel that. I folded it up and set it on the floor against the opposite wall where a few other objects had been placed, including, I think, a little painted bowl and what appeared to be another cord, a bit different from mine. these things were set out as though offerings, and I wondered how I could gracefully retrieve mine when I left, knowing I really couldn't and would have to leave it there.
I stood, about to return to me seat. The old man said to me, "Do what
you feel you need to, or set it aside, and start with something else". At
this moment I realized I had trapped myself, that I had started something
I would have to go through with. I didn't try figuring a way out because
I knew there wasn't any. I knew I needed to bring my basket in from my
truck, in which was copal, a quartz crystal, and other things I needed.
End.
I awoke immediately at this point, coming very quickly through the empty space, my mind washed neatly clean, but for an instant I remembered a tiny fragment of this dream and reached back for it. I grabbed it and dragged it quickly through, like pulling a towel through a hole by the corner. I reviewed it several times until I was absolutely sure I was really awake and wouldn't loose it. I was lying flat on my back, my feet crossed and my hands crossed over my heart. It was five thirty-five when I checked the clock. I used some time searching back and bringing up fragments of preceding dreams, then got up at six, a half hour early, to record the dream.
This is the way I like my dreams. Everything right up front, no obscure symbolism and no need for tricky interpretation techniques. The old man's statement (possibly direct rather than by voice) about starting with something else was not meant in a broad sense, but referred to tools and techniques. The broader decisions were presumed.
There was not actually any copal in my basket at the time of the dream, but there was by the end of the day, since I had some on hand.