fragment 1

I am rooting through my locker, looking for a pair of socks I can wear. Most pairs--there are several--are rather damp, and generally unwearable. They seem, some of them, to be hanging up to dry. Finally, I find one pair I can wear.

I seem to make the point in my mind that I am leaving my weapon in the locker. None of us now have our weapons.

Next scene seems to be another part of the locker room. A group of us off-duty police officers, I think, men and women, are siting around shooting the breeze after shift.

In comes a man with some kind of automatic weapon. He says, "My father came before me, and now I am here."

We are understandable surprised, and unable to do anything, caught offguard, and unarmed.

He makes a reference to the women, saying, "They will be the last to survive."

fragment 2

I am talking about something horrible. I am saying, "I was in the hospital in Maryland before they turned the lights on."

fragment 3

I am looking out a large window at veterans of some kind of war. My feeling is that I was one of those people in a fragment I have lost. I am inside this window feeling ashamed I did not fight.

They are a motley crew, riding horses, walking, men, women, carrying things they might have used in the fight.

fragment 4

The same window is prominent in this fragment. This time, I am a youth in service to some ganglord in ths post-war world. I am sent off to some kind of unpleasant duty.

A Note on my dreaming:

I am entering a period when I am dreaming again. When I dream, and can remember, I have always dreamt in what I call tetrologies--longer and more complex than trilogies. This log just happens to be in 4 fragments.

The last three seem to be part of the same world, after some war, or catastrophe. The first one, is some cop television show. And that is the way I feel about most of my dreaming. I experience the dream as a program: shots, characters, action, dialogue. But to remember it, I must tell it to myself as a story--the way I tell it to you. That is why the first fragment is the most complete. Trying to remember it--repeatedly telling it to myself all night--interfered with remember the others.

At various times in my life, I have tried to keep logs, with varying success. I don’t know how long I can sustain it this time. But I will try.