<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293</id><updated>2012-01-22T05:41:58.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Packer Dreams</title><subtitle type='html'>"In our dreams...we make the journeys we seem to make...see the things we seem to see..."  Mark Twain</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-5223950138008478217</id><published>2011-10-30T06:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T06:06:34.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mountain Lion and the tranquilizer dart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cHtS1li6yZ8/Tq1LkeNEMgI/AAAAAAAAHME/DjxfekIpdPQ/s1600/CougarAspenEcho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="138" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cHtS1li6yZ8/Tq1LkeNEMgI/AAAAAAAAHME/DjxfekIpdPQ/s200/CougarAspenEcho.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #984806; mso-themecolor: accent6; mso-themeshade: 128;"&gt;October 28, 2011&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #984806; mso-themecolor: accent6; mso-themeshade: 128;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; A mountain lion was loose and appeared in the front yard.&amp;nbsp; The authorities were chasing it trying to capture or kill it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The lion attempted to crash through our front door, eventually breaking the glass all over.&amp;nbsp; I positioned myself there to protect my children, thinking the lion wouldn't want to tangle with someone my size. I stood there and used all my weight to push the lion back out the door with a quick movement that I had just learned from Aikido.&amp;nbsp; As I did that, a tranquilizer dart that was intended for the lion hit me in the shoulder area just above the left breast.&amp;nbsp; Within a few seconds, I was down and drowsy.&amp;nbsp; they were able to get the lion down at the same time.&amp;nbsp; I passed out for a few minutes, so I didn't see how they took care of the lion.&amp;nbsp; when I awakened, all were gone.&amp;nbsp; I felt awful and had a painful area where the dart had entered.&amp;nbsp; I wondered why they had just &lt;b&gt;ignored&lt;/b&gt; me.&amp;nbsp; Didn't I need medical attention?&amp;nbsp; I felt I should go to a hospital for treatment.&amp;nbsp; At the next scene, I was at a mall, asking people to please find me the phone for the Ogden Regional.&amp;nbsp; I knew our insurance didn't cover McKay Dee.&amp;nbsp; Eventually, someone offered to take me to a hospital, where I was put in a bed, treated and put on an IV.&amp;nbsp; I still couldn't figure out why everyone had &lt;b&gt;ignored&lt;/b&gt; me and wasn't concerned about my condition.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-5223950138008478217?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5223950138008478217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/10/mountain-lion-and-tranquilizer-dart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/5223950138008478217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/5223950138008478217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/10/mountain-lion-and-tranquilizer-dart.html' title='The Mountain Lion and the tranquilizer dart'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cHtS1li6yZ8/Tq1LkeNEMgI/AAAAAAAAHME/DjxfekIpdPQ/s72-c/CougarAspenEcho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-138204561928309295</id><published>2011-10-29T03:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:31:41.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hidden caverns in the basement &amp; Brandon rescuing me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #984806;"&gt;(September 5, 2011) Began with investigating why we had a constant flood in our "basement".&amp;nbsp; the house was some combination of our Morgan house with this one, with some options of neither.&amp;nbsp; Brandon was helping investigate.&amp;nbsp; We first looked at the drainage system, which seemed to be constantly overflowing.&amp;nbsp; Brandon did some sort of adjustment which opened up underground levels which we had been unaware for more than decades.&amp;nbsp; The first level was dark and rocky.&amp;nbsp; As I investigated, I became stranded on a rocky ledge above huge caverns.&amp;nbsp; Brandon had to rescue me and show me the way out.&amp;nbsp; He also pointed out there was another level accessed with a slightly spiraling rock and dirt staircase.&amp;nbsp; We turned on the lighting system and lo, there were toys, baby things, cribs and especially sewing machines of all sorts, seemingly my mother's old ones, every old one, I ever could imagined and stacks of sewing supplies, pins, needles, thread by the cartload.&amp;nbsp; My thought, was "I have been buying all this new sewing stuff, when all this was stashed away and I had forgotten about it".&amp;nbsp; The stuff did not seem dirty or moldy or cobwebby, but nearly new, even though it had been put away down there in the glorified crawl space.&amp;nbsp; It seemed vaguely like a dream. I "floated" above the stuff, examining it.&amp;nbsp; Once down there, I negotiated my way back "up", carefully noting the path, so I could return.&amp;nbsp; My intention was to bring some people back to show them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-138204561928309295?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/138204561928309295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/10/hidden-caverns-in-basement-brandon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/138204561928309295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/138204561928309295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/10/hidden-caverns-in-basement-brandon.html' title='Hidden caverns in the basement &amp; Brandon rescuing me'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-3747027387599335569</id><published>2011-10-28T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:32:45.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Again and Lucid Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;(May 27, 2011)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;This time we were in a "new" home to us and it became filled with all kinds of furniture and beds that I didn't recognize…I walked around saying, "where did this come from".&amp;nbsp; I thought of Bethany and her move, but it didn't seem like stuff that she would send. &amp;nbsp;I then asked someone where our TV was, as there was no TV.&amp;nbsp; Someone said it was moved to our bedroom, but then someone else said that Bob had gotten rid of it and given it to a hospital.&amp;nbsp; I was&lt;b&gt; furious&lt;/b&gt;.&amp;nbsp; How dare he give away our TV without asking first!&amp;nbsp; There was nothing wrong with it and it hasn't been replaced.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;At this point I became aware that this was probably a dream!&amp;nbsp; I dwelt in this awareness as I surveyed the surroundings taking in the detail of how the furniture was arranged.&amp;nbsp; Then, I thought if this is a dream, I can leave it.&amp;nbsp; I tried to stop it, but couldn't, so I thought, well, if I can't stop it, I will try to change it.&amp;nbsp; The only way I could change it was by moving myself, so I began walking, first leaving the house and going outside.&amp;nbsp; it seemed to be very cumbersome just walking, so I thought, I will just fly, so I levitated in the air and began soaring over the landscape, like in the movie Dinosaur.&amp;nbsp; I came to some very big and scary dinosaurs, so I just reached out my hand to them and willed them into cute, little cuddly creatures.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lXL5c6QNE9g/TqqGCLWrETI/AAAAAAAAHL8/fP_U8EwFrJE/s1600/Dinosaur_3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="146" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lXL5c6QNE9g/TqqGCLWrETI/AAAAAAAAHL8/fP_U8EwFrJE/s200/Dinosaur_3.jpeg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-3747027387599335569?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3747027387599335569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/10/may-27-2011-moving-again-and-lucid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3747027387599335569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3747027387599335569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/10/may-27-2011-moving-again-and-lucid.html' title='Moving Again and Lucid Dream'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lXL5c6QNE9g/TqqGCLWrETI/AAAAAAAAHL8/fP_U8EwFrJE/s72-c/Dinosaur_3.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-4065231372592172178</id><published>2011-03-21T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T16:34:07.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hotel complex and Gumdrop Clues</title><content type='html'>I was at a Hotel complex. &amp;nbsp;There was a filming crew taking video of the spectacular architecture and of the wedding facilities. &amp;nbsp;There were scenes of amazing meals and table settings. &amp;nbsp;The reason that I was there, was unclear. &amp;nbsp;There was a lower floor with “lockers” and safe deposit boxes in which our valuables were stored. &amp;nbsp;I had several (5, I think) boxes or lockers; each had a key and was associated with a color of gumdrop (which I had a bag of). &amp;nbsp;However, I got hungry and ate most of the gumdrops, thus “forgetting” which keys went where. &amp;nbsp;I was about ready to pop the last gumdrop, which was black, but then realized what I had done. &amp;nbsp;I believe one of the numbers was 364, which I kept getting mixed up with 964 and looking in the wrong area. &amp;nbsp;At one point, the crowds milling around there increased in number. &amp;nbsp;There was a reason that we could not leave-- no one had transportation. &amp;nbsp;I called my mom to pick me up with her car. &amp;nbsp;When people found out I had done that, they became angry because they didn’t have a similar option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RZVSr2z2Ouw/TYff7e0r4fI/AAAAAAAAGhM/EVbkkMnvaUQ/s1600/1132794953-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RZVSr2z2Ouw/TYff7e0r4fI/AAAAAAAAGhM/EVbkkMnvaUQ/s200/1132794953-64.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went down ½ floor to the boxes to retrieve my stuff, but the administrators had enforced a blackout “quiet time” so that people could catch up on their missed sleep. &amp;nbsp;I couldn’t find my stuff or my boxes again. &amp;nbsp;Finally, I was allowed to look and after much confusion about the numbers, I came across my “locker” and someone was already cleaning it out. &amp;nbsp;Yes, we did have locker partners and I allowed her to finish cleaning her stuff out and then I realized that it WAS NOT my locker. &amp;nbsp;More frustration. &amp;nbsp;On the main mezzanine floor, there was a weird flood of thick multicolored substance. &amp;nbsp;I walked past one of the displays that used to be a tall wedding cake. &amp;nbsp;Now it had toppled into pieces that people were scrounging to recover. &amp;nbsp;I kept waiting to be “rescued” by my mom, but woke up before that happened. &amp;nbsp;In the mean time, I was being entreated to rescue others from the perceived, but nebulous threat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-4065231372592172178?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4065231372592172178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-18-2011-hotel-complex-and-gumdrop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/4065231372592172178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/4065231372592172178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-18-2011-hotel-complex-and-gumdrop.html' title='The Hotel complex and Gumdrop Clues'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RZVSr2z2Ouw/TYff7e0r4fI/AAAAAAAAGhM/EVbkkMnvaUQ/s72-c/1132794953-64.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-5869817928231904992</id><published>2011-02-18T07:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T07:01:03.539-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Church Barn Activity and World War III begins...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0cOLHJ8wzU/TV6IoFXTeeI/AAAAAAAAGKg/lmeEHuzKPVI/s1600/marchmoab03%252706%2528107%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0cOLHJ8wzU/TV6IoFXTeeI/AAAAAAAAGKg/lmeEHuzKPVI/s200/marchmoab03%252706%2528107%2529.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was at some sort of church activity. &amp;nbsp; I was doing some EFT and life coaching on some people who were upset and arguing with their spouses. As I was was trying to get to the root of the upsets, &amp;nbsp;the leaders asked us to congregate in a large area kind of like the barns at the State fair. People are on their cell phones, I-phones watching the news. &amp;nbsp;Then, it is announced by the leaders that THE world wide war has begun and it is not safe for us to leave these premises as there are fires everywhere. &amp;nbsp;That doesn’t make sense to me or to many others because they want to go home. &amp;nbsp;For some reason we can’t get to cars or parking lot, so I leave the barn through a side door along with other people who have the same idea to walk home. I am glad I always wear shoes I can walk in. &amp;nbsp;As I leave, I try to contact Bob, who is not with me. &amp;nbsp;The cell phones have now gone down. &amp;nbsp;They turn on, but old fashioned symbols/words appear, but no way to get coverage or make calls, no internet or satellite access. &amp;nbsp;As I walk and attempt to use my phone, I lament….I wish we had &amp;nbsp;“walkie talkies” and/or a battery operated communication radio. &amp;nbsp;My mind went over all the preparations I WISH I had made. (not sure WHAT they were, just that I wish I had made them). I was anxious to get home to the horses. &amp;nbsp;At that point I woke up and realized it was a dream. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-5869817928231904992?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5869817928231904992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/02/church-barn-activity-and-world-war-iii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/5869817928231904992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/5869817928231904992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/02/church-barn-activity-and-world-war-iii.html' title='The Church Barn Activity and World War III begins...'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0cOLHJ8wzU/TV6IoFXTeeI/AAAAAAAAGKg/lmeEHuzKPVI/s72-c/marchmoab03%252706%2528107%2529.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-265170195939803627</id><published>2011-01-26T04:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:35:11.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(The Half Cats and Bad Rap)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TUANhsneyLI/AAAAAAAAFwo/iwBlF786fQM/s1600/bad_rap-char.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TUANhsneyLI/AAAAAAAAFwo/iwBlF786fQM/s200/bad_rap-char.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(Jan. 8, 2011) The only image I remember from a series of dreams is of Cider getting caught in a door and cut in half. &amp;nbsp;Once over the initial horror, we watched as each lengthwise half morphed into a live “half cat”. &amp;nbsp;weird, but now we had two strange physically handicapped cats. &amp;nbsp;Just as I was waking around 4, I was given the name “Bad Rap” and shown the image of a Raptor as an action figure, stuffed animal and star of a movie. &amp;nbsp;The name had meanings on several levels. &amp;nbsp;First, he was given a &amp;nbsp;Bad Rap because of the reputation of raptors from Jurassic Park. &amp;nbsp;Second, he was a Bad Rap, meaning he was a Good Rap. &amp;nbsp;Sure, he was carnivorous, and ate meat, but he tried not to eat his friends or humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(I looked up Bad Rap on the internet and came up with a Pit Bull Rescue Group and a dinosaur name from a series called Extreme Dinosaurs.“Bad Rap: the orange, striped leader of the Raptors, who has a metal brace-like device attached to his mouth (and, briefly, a weapon on one hand that can dissolve solid matter effortlessly). His goal is to permanently alter the Earth's biosphere to closely resemble the Mesozoic“. )&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-265170195939803627?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/265170195939803627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/01/january-8-2011-half-cats-and-bad-rap.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/265170195939803627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/265170195939803627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2011/01/january-8-2011-half-cats-and-bad-rap.html' title='(The Half Cats and Bad Rap)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TUANhsneyLI/AAAAAAAAFwo/iwBlF786fQM/s72-c/bad_rap-char.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-273863852624532340</id><published>2010-12-13T11:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:35:38.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Clock Shop Incident</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TQZ04ct4nXI/AAAAAAAAFsI/J1zuuXlFDxk/s1600/64_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TQZ04ct4nXI/AAAAAAAAFsI/J1zuuXlFDxk/s200/64_1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;(October 10, 2010)&lt;br /&gt;The setting was somewhere in Europe, probably Germany. We had just finished some sort of espionage assignment. &amp;nbsp;We were looking at a clock shop, where I said I had been before twice, but it was closed. &amp;nbsp;The proprietor was here now and Bob wanted to look for a clock. &amp;nbsp;I was hesitant, but thought oh, well if it means so much to Bob, then we can spring a few hundred dollars for a clock. &amp;nbsp;So, Bob leaves me to talk to the man about clocks. I was a little miffed that he didn’t want to include me on the discussions and decisions. &amp;nbsp;I was left to wander around. &amp;nbsp;They came out later and Bob showed me the one he was going to get. &amp;nbsp;It was a &amp;nbsp;clock about the size of a computer. It had drawers containing polished stone jewelry, lots of gold topaz and amber looking necklaces. &amp;nbsp;There were all different stones on the clock face, each stone representing the numbers. I am thinking, why spend $ on jewelry…I already have a lot of that. It is an interesting premise, having the stones represent the numbers. I see the price tag--$6,819. &amp;nbsp;I get upset that it is so much. &amp;nbsp;I am very agitated saying that it’s exorbitant for a stupid clock. &amp;nbsp;We could get an awesome horse for that price!!! &amp;nbsp;And I throw in, that it’s not even a cool Cuckoo clock!! Finally, he sees the “light” and chooses a much more modest clock at around $169, still not a cuckoo clock because he says he can't stand the noise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-273863852624532340?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/273863852624532340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/12/clock-shop-incident.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/273863852624532340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/273863852624532340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/12/clock-shop-incident.html' title='The Clock Shop Incident'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TQZ04ct4nXI/AAAAAAAAFsI/J1zuuXlFDxk/s72-c/64_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-8632406273040081950</id><published>2010-09-20T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:36:25.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Staying in the Red Room and C’s Tumble</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;(August 24, 2010)&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TJd25nBU_XI/AAAAAAAAFj4/Odl9GBHtB9s/s1600/S20-19+Red+Bandana+Style.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TJd25nBU_XI/AAAAAAAAFj4/Odl9GBHtB9s/s200/S20-19+Red+Bandana+Style.jpg" width="199" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Series of events culminating in us staying at my grandmas house, but it wasn’t anything I recognized. It faced East and was quite spacious inside in spite of looking small outside. The floor plan was different then either of my grandmas in “real” life. &amp;nbsp;I ended up staying in the “red” room, next to the living area. &amp;nbsp;It was called the red room because it was decorated in a red handkerchief theme. The bedspread was done in handkerchief patchwork. &amp;nbsp;There were handkerchiefs for doilies and on the walls &amp;nbsp;and &amp;nbsp;a bushel basket lined with them with books in it. &amp;nbsp;There were throw rugs over the brown carpeting. I noticed it had been a long while since cleaning or vacuuming. I then realized that she had guests the week before (an entire houseful) and no cleaning had been done. &amp;nbsp;At one point I thought I had left my clothes somewhere else, so only had grubby clothes to wear and no dress up. &amp;nbsp;The next scene I remember was walking or hiking with C in front of me. The going became somewhat rocky, but the soil was mooshy. &amp;nbsp;On a slight steep decline, C tumbled head over heels like a &amp;nbsp;somersault. &amp;nbsp;As first I thought she had done it on purpose to negotiate the decline, (kind of like I did the roll over in Fiery Furnace) &amp;nbsp;but then she didn’t get up. &amp;nbsp;I asked if she were hurt; she replied “Of course I’m hurt, I can’t get up, I have multiple injuries, call 911” a myriad of different people then came to administer to her, &amp;nbsp;The feelings of the dream were unprepared and helpless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-8632406273040081950?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8632406273040081950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/09/august-24-2010-staying-in-red-room-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8632406273040081950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8632406273040081950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/09/august-24-2010-staying-in-red-room-and.html' title='Staying in the Red Room and C’s Tumble'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TJd25nBU_XI/AAAAAAAAFj4/Odl9GBHtB9s/s72-c/S20-19+Red+Bandana+Style.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-3948325255216291300</id><published>2010-07-11T04:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:37:22.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ranch visit and Dream within a Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TDmsCkgn_NI/AAAAAAAAFOs/ri0Toul6Pk0/s1600/DSCN0030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TDmsCkgn_NI/AAAAAAAAFOs/ri0Toul6Pk0/s200/DSCN0030.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(May 5, 2010 )Visiting somewhere else, some type of ranch. &amp;nbsp;Took Spirit with me, keeping her in a stable. &amp;nbsp;They also had a crazy stallion, large, looked like a mahogany colored Morgan/Friesan cross. &amp;nbsp;Spirit was already pregnant, so I wasn’t worried about her being caught by him. &amp;nbsp;We saddled up for a trail ride, but the next scene I remember is staying overnite in a camping area. &amp;nbsp;It rained heavily. &amp;nbsp;The horses were all tied out in the weather with their saddles left on all night. &amp;nbsp;I didn’t like that, but was told it was the only option. &amp;nbsp;I remember looking at poor Spirit, standing there all wet and soggy with my lovely saddle soaking wet. The next scene was back at the ranch home where I was in the “living room”. &amp;nbsp;I was lying on the floor by the fireplace, where I dozed off (in the dream), so I was dreaming that I was asleep and also dreaming. &amp;nbsp;In the dream with a dream, I dreamed of someone telling me about some important documents. &amp;nbsp;Then I awoke and saw the documents underneath the fireplace, where I retrieved them and told Teisha and Chelsea. &amp;nbsp;I told them about the dream and finding the documents. &amp;nbsp;What I didn’t realize, the dream was within an actual dream. The documents had significance, but don’t remember what they were about. Then we all had the discussion that I had “too much money”and needed to convert it into useful “things”. &amp;nbsp;We brainstormed to figure out the best things to buy. &amp;nbsp;About that time I actually awakened and realized the WHOLE thing was a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-3948325255216291300?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3948325255216291300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/may-5-2010-ranch-visit-and-dream-within.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3948325255216291300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3948325255216291300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/may-5-2010-ranch-visit-and-dream-within.html' title='Ranch visit and Dream within a Dream'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/TDmsCkgn_NI/AAAAAAAAFOs/ri0Toul6Pk0/s72-c/DSCN0030.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-7122559354379011058</id><published>2010-05-02T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T03:38:01.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mudslide Flood and Evacuation</title><content type='html'>(April 17, 2010) The setting was Morgan County. &amp;nbsp;We were in some version of the house in Enterprise. &amp;nbsp;Bob had gone to church in Peterson. &amp;nbsp;I was at home with two children, a baby of about 15 months and a toddler. &amp;nbsp;It wasn’t stormy, but spring run off began threatening to flood our home. &amp;nbsp;I went down the basement in the lower storage area. &amp;nbsp;It had south facing large windows. &amp;nbsp;One was open. &amp;nbsp;Water was dripping in through the foundation and windows. &amp;nbsp;I &amp;nbsp;tried to move boxes of papers and clothes to a higher area. &amp;nbsp;Most of the storage stuff was food in cans and bottles, so I thought it would be ok. &amp;nbsp;Then mud began engulfing the house and sliding toward the back yard. &amp;nbsp;Some dripped in the open window, but as it slid past, it closed the window. &amp;nbsp;I ran upstairs and looked out into the back yard. &amp;nbsp;The mud was quickly engulfing the entire yard and was approaching the horse pens, where Spirit and Shrek were being surrounded by mud. &amp;nbsp;I grabbed my two kids and a neighbor appeared, along with Teisha who got halters for the horses and we went out to rescue the horses. &amp;nbsp;Spirit had nearly fallen in the mud, but we pulled her out, somehow led the horses and kids to safety with a neighbor to higher ground. &amp;nbsp;I had dropped my cell phone in the water and was trying to get it to work to call Bob. &amp;nbsp;It kept falling apart in my hands and couldn’t get it to work. &amp;nbsp;I was SO frustrated at this. &amp;nbsp;Then, I realized I had Bob’s phone in my pocket. &amp;nbsp;HE HAD FORGOTTEN TO TAKE IT, SO I COULDN’T REACH HIM! &amp;nbsp;But, his phone didn’t work either. &amp;nbsp;I tried to look at the contact list, but the phone was so unfamiliar I couldn’t work it. &amp;nbsp;Never mind, we must evacuate. &amp;nbsp;The neighbor helped us get the horses moved and we somehow got them to a canyon area that wasn’t affected by the mud flood. &amp;nbsp;The neighbor said we had to get to safety. We left the horses in the care of a girl with a large mountainside pasture and paid her. &amp;nbsp;We ended up at some sort of library or school like a community center. &amp;nbsp;I was still asking for a phone, but no one had one that worked. Then I didn’t know who to call, so I tried to get Bob’s phone on so he could call me on it, since mine didn’t work. I was surrounded by strangers, but they all seemed to want to help. &amp;nbsp;We had nothing with us, I hadn’t even had time to grab a purse or a diaper bag. &amp;nbsp;We just had the clothes on our backs, nothing else. &amp;nbsp;Not even a diaper or water bottle. &amp;nbsp;Bob had the car, I knew…if he could just get to us, there would be some supplies in the car. &amp;nbsp;Whoops, I thought, I hadn’t packed those “72 hour” backpacks I had been intending to. &amp;nbsp;They were still unfinished at home, which by now had pretty much been mud engulfed, at least the bottom floors. &amp;nbsp;It all seemed so utterly real. &amp;nbsp;About this point, I woke up, realized I was in bed in my MR home and it had all been a dream. &amp;nbsp;What a relief!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-7122559354379011058?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7122559354379011058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/05/april-17-2010-mudslide-flood-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/7122559354379011058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/7122559354379011058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/05/april-17-2010-mudslide-flood-and.html' title='Mudslide Flood and Evacuation'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-6006971744731498683</id><published>2010-04-24T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T05:22:11.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(March 6, 2009) Mallow the Dog and Tweedy the Kitten</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/S9LiM1Ya_KI/AAAAAAAAE20/ptDv0yNg39Q/s1600/thumbnail.aspx+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/S9LiM1Ya_KI/AAAAAAAAE20/ptDv0yNg39Q/s320/thumbnail.aspx+(1).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;. &amp;nbsp;I was living on the same or similar homesteads that my grandparents lived in on Green St. &amp;nbsp;All the action in the dream took place in the back yard. &amp;nbsp;Teisha’s family and Heather’s family were visiting. &amp;nbsp;I was very excited to show them my new animals—a dog and a kitten. &amp;nbsp;The dog was a type of Australian shepherd looking like a cross between Milo and Halo, so I called him Malo, (pronounced Mallow) &amp;nbsp;I was a little dismayed because he was growing SO large. &amp;nbsp;Teisha, especially was SO surprised that I got a dog.The kitten was a very unusual color—mahogany-caramel mottled base coat with black and white trimmings. &amp;nbsp;I called it “Tweedy” because of a general tweed texture feeling. &amp;nbsp;There was a ‘road’,wagon wheel rutted in the yard that people needed to walk on to come in the yard. &amp;nbsp;I said to everyone—be careful of the dog poop, don’t walk in it. So, of course, they did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-6006971744731498683?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/6006971744731498683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/04/mallow-dog-and-tweedy-kitten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/6006971744731498683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/6006971744731498683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2010/04/mallow-dog-and-tweedy-kitten.html' title='(March 6, 2009) Mallow the Dog and Tweedy the Kitten'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/S9LiM1Ya_KI/AAAAAAAAE20/ptDv0yNg39Q/s72-c/thumbnail.aspx+(1).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-8976196845952109638</id><published>2009-11-19T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T07:15:03.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>April 12, 2009   (Blue Horses)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SwVd5Wm3pyI/AAAAAAAAERQ/8k2YMvO3xGU/s1600/franz-marc-blue-horse-i.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="200" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405830167630685986" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SwVd5Wm3pyI/AAAAAAAAERQ/8k2YMvO3xGU/s200/franz-marc-blue-horse-i.jpg" style="float: right; height: 320px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 240px;" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The theme seemed to be “Blue Horses”  a series of dreams all interconnecting with that final theme, culminating in the renaming of a bar/restaurant at which my identity worked.  The establishment had a different name, so it surprised me when the signs were being changed and statues and figurines of every sort of blue horse appeared.  Most notably, old merry go round horses being repainted so that all major colors were blue.  The blue was a clear blue just like the background on this word program.  There were paintings on the wall of every sort of horse being re-done, including wall murals of petroglyph type horses.  Surprise was the feeling here because in a previous scenario in the group of dreams, the blue horse symbol seemed to have a negative association. I was vaguely aware that these were all dreams, but not aware enough to make conscious decisions.  There was a thread of a forbidden love story, involving two teenagers of Arab or Pakistani or Indian ethnicity.  I seemed to be one of the only ones in the story that approved and was involved with helping them keep it secret.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-8976196845952109638?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8976196845952109638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/april-12-2009-blue-horses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8976196845952109638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8976196845952109638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/april-12-2009-blue-horses.html' title='April 12, 2009   (Blue Horses)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SwVd5Wm3pyI/AAAAAAAAERQ/8k2YMvO3xGU/s72-c/franz-marc-blue-horse-i.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-652692063748645570</id><published>2009-09-29T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T07:09:39.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>September 29, 2009 ( painting in the movie theatre)</title><content type='html'>Bob, C and I went to a movie in the “downtown” area of an unknown city. C had taken in a briefcase with his painting gear and elected to sit in the balcony. He also had his laptop loaded with scenes that he was painting. Bob and I sat in the theatre and began watching the movie.  I don’t recall the plot or anything about the actual movie except that it seemed very entertaining and exciting.  Somewhere about half way through, we suddenly began seeing a slide show on the screen of C’s scenic photos that he was using to paint.  He had hooked his laptop into the movie projector so he could see his photos on the “big screen.”  This had interrupted the movie during an exciting scene. The entire audience was miffed and didn’t know what was going on.  We realized that it was C causing the problem and hurriedly went upstairs to tell him.  He was able to disconnect from the screen, but the projection person was not able to get the movie going again. Apparently, it wasn’t like a DVD that you could just go to the correct scene. We chose that moment to exit, but had difficulty because the stairwell was cluttered with boxes and other “stuff”.  Finally, we got out of there and were nearly to our cars, when a theatre person caught us and gave us coupons to see the movie at another time because they couldn’t get it to run properly now.  C had a red van and we had a car, but the next scenes involved us walking through the downtown area, including a large tall cathedral.  It was snowing and there were Christmas decorations.  That was where I woke up and realized it had been a very vivid dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-652692063748645570?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/652692063748645570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/september-29-2009-caleb-painting-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/652692063748645570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/652692063748645570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/september-29-2009-caleb-painting-in.html' title='September 29, 2009 ( painting in the movie theatre)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-1970844315991762841</id><published>2009-09-22T18:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T18:05:55.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>February 3, 2009  (Orange Troll)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/Srl0UA7XANI/AAAAAAAAEHA/R5rg4b4yhoE/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384462716693315794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 101px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 101px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/Srl0UA7XANI/AAAAAAAAEHA/R5rg4b4yhoE/s320/images.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was aware of “someone” in the Art Room. This time, instead of walking around, they were running my sewing machine very fast. I looked in the room and saw no one, but the sewing machine was running. My thought was not, “This is a dream”, but of “how can they do that?” I went downstairs to tell Bob and as I did so, a large spirit, who was orange and looked like an evil troll came upon me and held and strangled me, so that I could not speak. I tried to communicate what was going on, but Bob just looked puzzled. Finally, he caught on to what was going on. My feelings were of being stifled and then terror. Around that time, I briefly woke up, realized it was a dream, then went back to sleep and dreamed again, not realizing THIS was a dream. In the second installment, I now told Bob of all the happenings of the previous dream. He kept saying, “How could you NOT know it was dream?” and tried to analyze it. We discussed ways of getting rid of, not the dreams, but the evil orange troll. We talked about sending him to the labyrinth, then to the Light. At this point, I woke up and realized they had BOTH been dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-1970844315991762841?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1970844315991762841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/february-3-2009-orange-troll.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/1970844315991762841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/1970844315991762841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/february-3-2009-orange-troll.html' title='February 3, 2009  (Orange Troll)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/Srl0UA7XANI/AAAAAAAAEHA/R5rg4b4yhoE/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-1273074769175890416</id><published>2009-08-28T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T14:03:45.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>January 1, 2009  (Lucid dream, Repairmen)</title><content type='html'>The dreams take place in a different house in a different place.  The bedroom was still on a north facing wall, but had the door to the East and a window open to the North.  This was the first clue that it might be a dream.  I was in bed  with covers on.  There was something in the bedroom that needed repairs.  Bob had called a repair place to send someone out to make the repairs. It was about 9 am.  Three men showed up in the bedroom while I was still in bed.  They had their tools and set about making the repairs.   I realized it must be a dream!  That meant I could make a decision and change something.  I decided to choose to remember the dream and that it was lucid. I also chose to repeat the dream. Other than that, I would let it play out. As the repair men worked, they needed something they didn’t have—something small, white and elastic-like.  They asked me if I could provide it.  In the first version of the dream, I just reached over to the side of the bed and handed it to them.  In the second version, I got it another way and in the third version, I got up out of bed to go to my “bead” room for supplies.   I asked the men to look the other way while I got out of bed and grabbed a robe.  They kind of laughed and then I laughed too because it was a dream and didn’t matter. I got up, went to the other room and got the needed supplies, brought them back.  I then explained why I slept in so late.  It was because I worked swing shift at the IRS.  I also said that now I was retired, but still slept late because of habit.  One of the men asked what I did now and I told him that I was a Life Coach and made jewelry.  He said he would like to learn how—could I show him?  So, I got some beads and other supplies and brought them to him.  He sat down and made a necklace for his wife.  He brought out a stash of cash and tried to pay me, but I explained that he was doing repairs for us, so we would call it a trade. The two other men didn’t agree with that because they needed the cash, not the jewelry. They finally relented and made a deal among themselves. The necklace he had made, did not look like anything I would have made.  It was very short, so short it didn’t look like it would fit around anyone’s neck. It had different colors and shapes of beads.  One bead was made of jade or aventurine and was shaped like a small house about and inch in diameter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(I had been studying techniques in the book called Lucid Dreaming.  I tried a few upon retiring.  The first was making an intention to realize and remember.  The second was to count and say the words, “I’m dreaming”.  I tried that several times and only got to three.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-1273074769175890416?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1273074769175890416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/08/january-1-2009-lucid-dream-repairmen.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/1273074769175890416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/1273074769175890416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/08/january-1-2009-lucid-dream-repairmen.html' title='January 1, 2009  (Lucid dream, Repairmen)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-3604036825841718818</id><published>2009-06-29T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T13:17:10.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'>December 13, 2008  (switched Kokopelli bags)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SkkhLR6O6ZI/AAAAAAAADrM/OePgY4eXFRM/s1600-h/dp+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352846109776472466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SkkhLR6O6ZI/AAAAAAAADrM/OePgY4eXFRM/s200/dp+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Travelling was the theme. I was with C and kids and sometimes T, sometimes Bob. To the Southwest. Sometimes by plane, sometimes by bus. On the way back we loaded a bus. I got on it somehow by myself and went to get into my bag for something and noticed it was filled with C’s stuff and couldn’t find what I needed. Then, C showed up and said that we had switched our bags somehow and she had mine. I wondered how they could have gotten mixed up, when we noticed that they were both Kokopelli prints on black background, almost identical except mine had Kokopelli on both sides and C’s had a petroglyph style horse on one side. I liked hers better and wanted to trade. However, hers was newer and mine was wearing out. She didn’t want to trade and I couldn’t blame her. Hers had things like baby bottles and cups, and about 4 packages of little powder sugar donuts and some other cookies. We got things switched back and then arrived at the Phoenix Air Terminal where we had to wait for a flight. Bob showed up to come home with us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-3604036825841718818?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3604036825841718818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/december-13-2008-switched-kokopelli.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3604036825841718818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3604036825841718818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/december-13-2008-switched-kokopelli.html' title='December 13, 2008  (switched Kokopelli bags)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SkkhLR6O6ZI/AAAAAAAADrM/OePgY4eXFRM/s72-c/dp+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-2424002821910371367</id><published>2009-06-18T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T17:26:11.387-07:00</updated><title type='text'>July 8, 2008  (Lake Powell base camp)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/Sjra4JI9RxI/AAAAAAAADns/19B2zGYxQVQ/s1600-h/powell_557.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348828165516904210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/Sjra4JI9RxI/AAAAAAAADns/19B2zGYxQVQ/s200/powell_557.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had a base camp somewhere on the shores of Lake Powell. Many of our group decided to go on a “trek”. I stayed behind to look after our campsite. We had a small houseboat we slept on. The water rose about 4 feet overnite and inundated much of our stuff that had been left on the beach. Clothing, camping gear, etc. I could see it under the water and thought I would try to rescue some of it. As I went down, there was a door or opening to a cave/shelter that I found and opened, all with no realization of having been IN any water to get there. The water rushed into this large opening and flooded the floor, but it was big enough and went high enough that the water barely had an effect. I was impressed at this hidden room that was so large and I began exploring it. After I had been there a while, other people began arriving and I asked how they found it and I was told that it was a gathering place for youth groups. I asked how they got through the water to find it and was told there was another entrance. Most people did not have to enter from the water side, because that was frequently under water. I proceeded to look for my family’s belongings. I looked up and recognized two people—Sandy W and Mary D. They recognized me and there was much hugging and greeting. They asked what I was doing there and I told them. They were so glad to find me. I apologized for losing touch. Told them I had lost their e-mail addresses. I wanted to give them a business card so we could keep in contact. I looked through my bags and couldn’t find one. Found all sorts of junk. Then, I began looking for just a card or piece of paper on which I could write my e-mail address. Nothing was suitable. I finally found a piece of paper. Then, I couldn’t find a pen. Finally, a pencil, but the tip kept breaking off. A pen was found, but was out of ink. I had much difficulty trying to write. I kept apologizing for being so unorganized. I explained that I had come through the opening that was underwater and most of my stuff was left on the boat. They just stared at me and made no offering to give me their information. I was frustrated because I couldn’t find the right tools and had come here unprepared. Although I couldn’t have been expected to find this situation. I vowed to always carry cards on me in the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-2424002821910371367?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2424002821910371367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/july-8-2008-lake-powell-base-camp.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/2424002821910371367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/2424002821910371367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/july-8-2008-lake-powell-base-camp.html' title='July 8, 2008  (Lake Powell base camp)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/Sjra4JI9RxI/AAAAAAAADns/19B2zGYxQVQ/s72-c/powell_557.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-175161317009980501</id><published>2009-06-12T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T15:54:22.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>June 12, 2008  (Colorado Horse Round Up)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SjLcXIfv16I/AAAAAAAADm0/PfzkxbqRxcU/s1600-h/Spring+horses+025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346577997617944482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SjLcXIfv16I/AAAAAAAADm0/PfzkxbqRxcU/s200/Spring+horses+025.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; I was given a satellite view of the great plains area, which then focused in on southeast Colorado. The map highlighted the plains areas. Then I was IN Colorado with a group of family members. The area was not familiar and we kept taking wrong turn offs. I had to keep looking at the map, but to do so, I had to go up in the atmosphere and look down at the area that way. We made a stop for food and took it to a rest area. As everyone else ate, I felt a need to scout out the scenery. I noticed Kassidy and possibly Michaela or Quincy had taken their subway type sandwiches and put all the vegetable fixings on plates like a salad and didn’t want their buns. We resumed our travel to the north and saw a freeway exit marked, “Airport A”. I thought that the airport was near Bethany somewhere, so we were getting nearer to Aurora. We intended to take that exit, but were diverted and forced to take another one that was unfamiliar. We sought refuge in a ranch like area and were told we could witness the “wild horse” round-up. We watched the round up, but it appeared to be contained in some sort of “time capsule”. Then, we saw Amberle participating in it. She had trouble trying to run after the horses on foot as she was not riding. I tried to run into the action to tell her to get on a horse. I was too slow. As I approached the area of the round up, there was a small foal who had been left behind. He was a dark golden color all over and was really struggling to keep up with the group. I tried to help him. There was much more to the dream, but that’s what I remember. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-175161317009980501?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/175161317009980501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/june-12-2008-colorado-horse-round-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/175161317009980501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/175161317009980501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/june-12-2008-colorado-horse-round-up.html' title='June 12, 2008  (Colorado Horse Round Up)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/SjLcXIfv16I/AAAAAAAADm0/PfzkxbqRxcU/s72-c/Spring+horses+025.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-3753658209762937130</id><published>2009-06-09T06:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T06:03:28.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>January 18, 2008  (Last Days, Gratitude and generators)</title><content type='html'>There seemed to be a lot of confusion as the area was “attacked”.  Power was out and people were milling around wondering what to do.  Our family seemed to be safe and comfortable in a large building like a convention center. It had high ceilings and many windows that let the light in.  We  gathered around a large screen TV watching images of groups of people.The feeling was of safety and gratitude.  Everyone expressed their gratitude that we were all able to gather in this safe place with a generator so we could watch TV.  Bob had prepared and provided this generator and place of safety.  I seemed to be observing more than being a part of it.  I left the place astrally to go over a “hilly” place, then look down into a valley where a nuclear device had been placed.  It seemed to be smoldering and glowing brightly, but not expanding to where it could do harm. I looked around for other people who I could offer safety to, but no one was around. I came back to the building and reported.  Then, we all used our visualization and psychic abilities to surround and contain the device.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;As I awakened, I had sparkly geometric figures appear in my “vision”.  I took a bath and while in there, the images changed to shapes like large expanded commas that were iridescent blue/black with neon green sparkly edges.  There were also reddish shapes that reminded me of lava that appeared and disappeared.  The shapes morphed and shifted, gradually getting fainter.  They intensified if I shut my eyes against the dark background, but could still be seen with the eyes open.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-3753658209762937130?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3753658209762937130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/january-18-2008-last-days-gratitude-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3753658209762937130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/3753658209762937130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/january-18-2008-last-days-gratitude-and.html' title='January 18, 2008  (Last Days, Gratitude and generators)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-8729849112247717710</id><published>2009-06-03T04:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T04:44:29.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>December 12, 2007  Dance Instructor—Private Detective</title><content type='html'>I was an instructor at a home/dance studio. The students were many that I knew from work, including other instructors.  I was dressed in a flowy black dress, black stockings with a garter belt and black high heels.  I tried to begin the class, but the students kept on visiting.  I got at the front of the class and started with some flexibility exercises, which I was pitiful at and everyone knew it.  The students kept visiting with each other, not paying attention to me and I got right in their face.  That only made them get up and leave the room.  I said something like, “Don’t you all want to learn?”  They answered with “We don’t want to learn to dance, we know how to dance—we want you to tell us your adventures in your detective business.  We heard you have had some amazing breakthroughs and cases”  I wasn’t sure how they knew about my other business, it was supposed to be a &lt;strong&gt;Private &lt;/strong&gt;Detective.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-8729849112247717710?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8729849112247717710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/december-12-2007-dance.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8729849112247717710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8729849112247717710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/december-12-2007-dance.html' title='December 12, 2007  Dance Instructor—Private Detective'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-8436775854995462757</id><published>2009-05-28T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T19:17:20.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>December 5, 2007 (Captive Teenage Slumber Party)</title><content type='html'>Somehow I was taken captive by a teenage girl who I had never seen before.  It seems ridiculous that I could not just over power her and escape, but there was some reason I had to take great care not to harm her and she was bigger physically than I was.  We eventually ended up at a house that she was able to secure so I wouldn’t escape. She tried to find ways to entertain me while she explained the reasons I had to stay there.  She took my cell phone and my purse.  We spent most of the time in the 3rd level basement of the split level home.  She eventually pulled out my phone and turned it on and set it on a counter.  I was delighted because I knew it had GPS tracking and those who were looking for me could trace it.  I began trying to distract her from realizing what she had done.  After a time, the doorbell starting ringing and a steady stream of other teenaged girls arrived carrying their pillows and saying they were coming to her “slumber” party that they had been invited to.  They came in and situated themselves upstairs.  I came up and asked what was going on and she ignored me, not even introducing me to her friends.  Eventually, she was upstairs distracted with entertaining the friends.  I made sure my phone was still on.  Then, instead of opening the door and escaping, I just opened the front door and left it ajar.  Within a few minutes, Tristan and another guy arrived, came in the door and rescued me.  Tris said he had been called in because he was good at tracking GPS coordinates. The girl was surprised that I had been tracked, but said she should have known better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-8436775854995462757?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8436775854995462757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/december-5-2007-captive-teenage-slumber.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8436775854995462757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8436775854995462757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/december-5-2007-captive-teenage-slumber.html' title='December 5, 2007 (Captive Teenage Slumber Party)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-879146598363029557</id><published>2009-05-24T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T18:56:06.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>October 24, 2007  (Glendale, Nevada)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The scene was a recreation complex in a Utah town, bordering Nevada.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I was told the town on the Nevada side was named Glendale. I thought that was strange because I knew there was a Glendale Arizona, California and Utah, but not one in NV. The NV side was run down, looked like a junk yard.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There were gray and black hoodoos all over.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Medium sized mountains, covered in sage and juniper surrounded the area.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The complex was wood lined roads kind of like a pinewood derby track, except they allowed full sized cars, smaller individual sized pinewood derby cars and skate board type things.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was covered on top, shaded from the outside elements, but both sides were open to the outside.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There was a family there that allowed their kids to run rampant.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One small blond boy about 5 yrs old, had his own miniature pinewood derby racer that he was racing.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;However, he was wildly irresponsible and nearly got killed.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He was coming down the track in his little vehicle and a large full size car crossed over his lane.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He was able to slide under the larger car, but still got hit by one wheel, which knocked him off the track.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I sought out his parents and explained how dangerous that was even if he was not hurt.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;They shrugged off the warning.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I remember going down the course several times in a small vehicle that was fun.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I &lt;b&gt;enjoyed &lt;/b&gt;the ride until I had to warn the parents.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There seemed to be a contingency from my work.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We discussed the relative merits of this complex and the gambling tables it had in another building across the border. Bryan was there as a high level supervisor.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Bonnie was dressed up as a Las Vegas type show girl and caused quite a stir.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I whispered to someone that she was Bryan’s mother and they were mortified!&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I explained that she was incognito for a special assignment.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then, I realized I probably shouldn’t have compromised her identity.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Note: &lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;the next day I googled Glendale, NV and it does exist halfway between Mesquite and Las Vegas)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-879146598363029557?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/879146598363029557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/october-24-2007-glendale-nevada.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/879146598363029557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/879146598363029557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/october-24-2007-glendale-nevada.html' title='October 24, 2007  (Glendale, Nevada)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-6124007805968254235</id><published>2009-05-22T05:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T05:45:20.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>July 5, 2007  (Buffalo on the Loose)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/ShaeSRlLIcI/AAAAAAAADeY/RqrVIPJzHHU/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338628445088457154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/ShaeSRlLIcI/AAAAAAAADeY/RqrVIPJzHHU/s200/images.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The scene was our house in Morgan, except updated and the pasture area was more a combination of Enterprise and North Ogden. We had an animal in the backyard. It was not a horse, might have been an elk or deer or cow. It was not well defined. There was a buffalo on the loose and it had gotten into our back pasture. It was trying to get over the gate and was butting heads with our animal. We were watching from a higher vantage point and kept encouraging our animal to stop fighting. The buffalo had nearly broken the gate down. We had called animal control. Meanwhile, the buffalo stopped fighting with our animal and began running around our pasture. It had gathered some friends, not other bison, but smaller animals including a coyote. The animal control people communicated with us that they were going to destroy these animals, rather than tranquilize and move them because they were now bothering people in their yards. We watched them run all over our pasture, which was huge and had rolling hills, some sagebrush, grass, looked like Colorado prairie. While we were watching, the doorbell rang and it was the visiting teachers. We told them we were busy with wild animals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-6124007805968254235?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/6124007805968254235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/july-5-2007-buffalo-on-loose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/6124007805968254235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/6124007805968254235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/july-5-2007-buffalo-on-loose.html' title='July 5, 2007  (Buffalo on the Loose)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/ShaeSRlLIcI/AAAAAAAADeY/RqrVIPJzHHU/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-7640447495178625249</id><published>2009-05-19T15:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T15:51:53.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May 7, 2007  (Ninja’s Babies and Trip to Europe)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/ShM3uUAL4AI/AAAAAAAADc4/i17brwBr3Mw/s1600-h/PICT0045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337671252147167234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/ShM3uUAL4AI/AAAAAAAADc4/i17brwBr3Mw/s200/PICT0045.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The first scene was Ninja looking for a place to have her babies. Her choice was an old fashioned carpet in a house, which appeared to be the house on McClelland St. in SL, in which I lived until I was about 2. She scratched around on the carpet and finally began having the babies as I watched. The first two were born dead or appeared to be dead. Two or three were beautiful white spotted with various shades of grey and tiger markings. Within a few minutes the kittens were running around with their eyes open, which was unusual. (&lt;em&gt;This dream happened before Ninja’s first batch of babies was born—2 black and 2 tiger. The next batch of babies born in August included the beautifully marked kittens, one of which was Muggle)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(postscript, Dec. 2008. I just watched movies of me when I was 1 year old living on McClelland St. I had a cat that looked almost identical to Muggle, black &amp;amp; white)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The next set of dreaming involved a trip to Europe for me and Bob. I never really wanted to go to Europe. I would rather go to Fiji or Turkey. But, we finally made arrangements that would include the places I wanted to visit. It was expensive, but not too bad. I think the whole trip was $3,000 total. We got on the plane and slept most of the way. We arrived in Germany and got on some sort of open air train, on which we sat facing the middle, so we couldn’t see the scenery. At this point, Bob decided to go home instead of finish the trip. I was very upset because we had spent so much money getting to his life long dream and he was choosing to end it. We got back home and were looking at catalogs. There was one of the ginger cookie factories that we were supposed to visit. Bob expressed disappointment that we didn’t go there and get the cookies. I said, maybe we could order some. He said no, don’t do that, just go down to Dillard’s and buy a bucket of them. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The third set involved my work situation at a location that looked like a school. We had a week that we all came to work in costume. I got mixed up on the days and came to work dressed as a wizard, when everyone else was in Marie Antoinette costumes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-7640447495178625249?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7640447495178625249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/may-7-2007-ninjas-babies-and-trip-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/7640447495178625249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/7640447495178625249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/may-7-2007-ninjas-babies-and-trip-to.html' title='May 7, 2007  (Ninja’s Babies and Trip to Europe)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BwasnBaSmVM/ShM3uUAL4AI/AAAAAAAADc4/i17brwBr3Mw/s72-c/PICT0045.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-7758008834957452314</id><published>2009-05-17T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T16:48:57.614-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March 22, 2007 (Gods Must Be Crazy Guest Lecturer)</title><content type='html'>The scene was a school, again one I am not familiar with.  I seemed to be a guest lecturer and walked thru the halls trying to find my place.  I was carrying a large, heavy scrapbook,  the one my kids had compiled.  I also had a small backpack and was dressed up.  I came to a  blockade.  I indicated at the security gate that I was a “teacher” and she let me thru.  I reached a place where they were having an assembly.  I went to where all the other teachers were gathered and sat on a chair (big, gold stuffed) and watched the proceedings. They were all women and were dressed in various pant suits.  One teacher tried to lead the group in a song, but no one seemed to know it at first, then all started singing except me because it was a school hymn and I didn’t know it.  Then, we were asked to all move over to an adjoining area, to make room for the rest of the program.  I moved, but left my large chair where I had been sitting.  I also left my scrapbook because it was so heavy.  At this point I became disinterested because they weren’t asking me to participate like I had anticipated. I left that area and began walking away out into the area where the students were gathered.  There was a large amphitheatre area that was filled with students who were mostly black, and were trying to hear their guest lecturer, but the whole area was very noisy due to the meeting, I had just left. They seemed to belong to a different school that was kind of having “split sessions” with the other one. I left that meeting and began walking away from the gatherings down a pathway to another building.  I arrived at the building, but didn’t feel it was the right one, so turned around to walk up another path.  There was a group of students going in the same direction, to a still different building.  I began walking with them and they were discussing good movies. I don’t remember how many there were or what they looked like. I asked if they had ever seen “The Gods Must Be Crazy”.  They said no.  I said it was a really old movie that took place in Africa about the natives and a journey and a coke bottle falling from the sky.  That’s all I could remember.  They looked at me. Not actually saying anything, but I could understand what they were thinking.  “Why is this old lady, telling us about a dumb movie, that she can’t even remember very well” I said something like, oh well, I guess I need to watch it again.  Then still kept walking with them.  We followed paths that seemed to lead into the building.  It was old and multi storied like the buildings on the U. campus.  We kept being blocked off by new construction that had covered the old pathways and had to find a different path.  I jumped over terraces and plants, going down off of a hillside area and finally found a pathway of bricks that adjoined a highway.  Now, the school was no where in sight.  Then, I began jogging on the brick path, but had to throw off my skirt so I could run.  I seemed to have jogging shorts underneath.  The students that had been with me, were left far behind and were no longer in the picture.  They had finally found a way into the school or stopped trying.  I felt like I had a lot of energy in jogging that I had never felt before.  I still didn’t know it was a dream until I woke up at that point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-7758008834957452314?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7758008834957452314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/march-22-2007-gods-must-be-crazy-guest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/7758008834957452314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/7758008834957452314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/march-22-2007-gods-must-be-crazy-guest.html' title='March 22, 2007 (Gods Must Be Crazy Guest Lecturer)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-8599955746087305326</id><published>2009-05-15T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T08:49:07.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jan. 18, 2006  (50s theme for dress up)</title><content type='html'>The setting was a church. I was on the front row.  It was ward conference and Brian was conducting (as a bishop) dressed in old fashioned clothes.  Bob was the chorister, dressed in 50s outfits.  He said the theme for the conference was the Fifties and all the officers were supposed to dress that way.  Brian was really in old clothes, like 1850s instead.  I was very upset because I hadn’t been told the theme.  After the opening exercises, a play stage was quickly set up.  Shematite and two of her friends were on the set, dressed in 50s.  They sang and Shema did a reading that was very dramatic.  Then, it was over and a stage crew came in and moved the set VERY QUICKLY.  I even commented, man that was fast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-8599955746087305326?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8599955746087305326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/jan-18-2006-50s-theme-for-dress-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8599955746087305326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8599955746087305326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/jan-18-2006-50s-theme-for-dress-up.html' title='Jan. 18, 2006  (50s theme for dress up)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-4760769497499783960</id><published>2009-05-14T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T13:29:19.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>November 18, 2005  (Baby Scooper)</title><content type='html'>A baby was crawling around the floor, kept eating stuff on the floor like a vacuum. Then baby threw up all that he had been eating, coins, shampoo bottles, so much kept coming back up. Poor baby all empty now.&lt;br /&gt;I was concerned that all that stuff had damaged him and went to Sally’s. There was a lot of turmoil there. Unfamiliar house for the meeting. She was very distracted with her daughter. Carrie S. showed up and a lot of people I didn’t know. I called home, Bob answered. I asked if the pile of stuff was still on the floor where the baby had thrown up. Bob wouldn’t answer me. I got SO angry because he wouldn’t answer me. I kept asking Why is it so hard? Tris asked me about a store where he got shoes. I asked him why Bob wouldn’t answer me. I wanted that pile of stuff so I could document what the baby had actually swallowed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Analysis by Lynn: I am the baby, going around scooping up bits of information from all different sources, wanting nourishment. I finally have to upchuck it all, so it can be recognized and used. When I left to seek more help, I wanted to make sure it was all validated and recognized so I could retrieve it again when needed. Didn’t want someone thinking it was junk and throwing it away. It is not personal about Bob, just a vehicle because I didn’t see him directly but called on phone. Represented “mankind” in general, all family, etc. not recognizing my worth &amp;amp; valuable contributions. Sally represented another facet of mankind, too busy with their own lives. Tris represents family that I perceive--occupied with material things. Shoes. Choice of career, he needs wants guidance on taking care of his shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-4760769497499783960?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4760769497499783960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/november-18-2005-baby-scooper.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/4760769497499783960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/4760769497499783960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/november-18-2005-baby-scooper.html' title='November 18, 2005  (Baby Scooper)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-5587786789583614377</id><published>2009-05-14T13:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T13:10:29.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>April 10, 2005  (Hallelujah Trail and Nursing Baby)</title><content type='html'>I am teaching in a school that I have never seen before.  There is another teacher, a guest lecturer from out of state. She is young, pretty, long blond hair.  We are discussing historical movies.  She mentioned &lt;em&gt;Hallelujah Trail.&lt;/em&gt;  I said I had a copy.  She wanted to borrow it.  I said sure, then I had to leave quickly.  Drove south to “home”, realized I forgot she was going to follow me home because she didn’t know the area.&lt;br /&gt;Once I realized that, I went back, parked my red car on the main road &amp;amp; walked back to the school.  It was mentioned as “Green Acres”, but it didn’t look like the Green Acres I knew.  It was gray stone, modern red accents, several stories.  I got back in the school, then was told the girl had left trying to find me, had gone to the other school to the north.  I decided to walk to look for her because she could give me a ride back to my car.  I walked north looking for the school, wandered around, finally found it.  She was with her boyfriend, who seemed very strange.  He had long hair, pierced ears and tattoos.  We all got in her car and I told her that my car was parked right on the main road.  They needed to make a few stops in some weird places, so I said I would just walk back to my car, but I told them where it was parked on the main road to the south.&lt;br /&gt;Again I wandered, passed through a large house, done in logs, lots of windows, plants, displays of crafts.  As I walked back thru the house, told the owner,  that she had a really nice house.  She told me I could display my craft items here for sale, because she had a store front on the main road.  I left the house trying to find my way to my car.  I finally found it, but there was a baby (toddler) in the back seat who had rolled down the window and was crying.  I was mortified to think I had left my baby in the car and glad she was ok. She had a snotty nose from crying.  I was worried someone would have seen her in the car and reported my license number to the police.  Meanwhile, the couple in the other car showed up and parked a few feet behind me.  I waved at them, saying, yes, this is it, but I had to nurse my baby because she was hungry and needed to have her nose wiped.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-5587786789583614377?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5587786789583614377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/april-10-2005-hallelujah-trail-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/5587786789583614377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/5587786789583614377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/april-10-2005-hallelujah-trail-and.html' title='April 10, 2005  (Hallelujah Trail and Nursing Baby)'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167220079193267293.post-8567670994191194738</id><published>2009-05-14T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T13:08:21.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>February 1, 2004, Cooking Hamburgers in the church</title><content type='html'>There was a church with Hispanics visiting.  They were putting on the program in colorful dresses.  A little girl gave a talk with the theme of “Remember Isaiah”. A “Black sheep” guy, not Hispanic, claims to be a visitor, goes outside, gets a horse (Paint) and rides through the foyer in back of the congregation.  The horse has muddy feet.  It is very muddy outside.  He tramps through the back of the chapel twice, leaving muddy hoofprints.  Some people immediately run for brooms and clean it up during the rest of the meeting.  The Hispanics go to the kitchen in back and start cooking hamburgers and salad for everyone, while the meeting is still going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167220079193267293-8567670994191194738?l=dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8567670994191194738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/february-1-2004-cooking-hamburgers-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8567670994191194738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167220079193267293/posts/default/8567670994191194738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreampackerdreams.blogspot.com/2009/05/february-1-2004-cooking-hamburgers-in.html' title='February 1, 2004, Cooking Hamburgers in the church'/><author><name>DreamPacker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05968431696552910903</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DI8WtUIVAg4/Txv2dbqXqsI/AAAAAAAAHfk/7c6Hq6ORzPw/s220/DSCN1726.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
