Dream: Guarding David Carradine's son...

I was watching David Carradine and his female partner live their lives together. They had lots of children together in a short period, like four kids in just as many years. I only remember two of the children though, one a boy between three and four with pale blond hair and a little girl maybe a year younger with ringlets in her hair. It seemed as though the kids could sometimes see me, but Carradine and his lady did not

I watched the kids play a lot, and the little boy seemed to get into an awful lot of accidents. I remember seeing them playing in the shallow water at the edge of a rock shore, like at Presque Isle or something. The little boy was laying in the water, and the kids were running around nude, getting that warm sunned-brown hue. I think the boy got up then, but I knew that there were guardian spirits trying to protect him from ending his sojourn here.

The son died somehow—I am not sure if I was there or not. It seems as though I was never seen by Carradine, though I spoke to him and he somehow heard me. I sat beside him, watching him look through a photo album of those days, all the smiles on everyone’s faces, the kids laughing, etc… and I said to him “He only lived at birth because guardian spirits protected him. They always protected him to the best of their abilities, and he could see them, he played with them. Then… be grateful for the time you got to share with him.” He heard me, and nodded as if they were just pretty words I was saying to comfort him rather than truthful.

I left him then, and came across a young Michael J. Fox type person who was like… Carradine’s biggest fan, and was giving him some kind of award for changing so many people’s lives in the Kung Fu series. Fans from around the world had come, and the Fox character had everyone write the name of the city they came from on pieces of paper and stick them to the map. The map was covered with tiny bits of paper.

Carradine wandered in, distracted and melancholy, and saw the map. The Fox character explained what the papers were and gave Carradine a piece of paper. He wrote on it slowly “Creek Bridge” or “Owl Creek” (which was a signal to me that I was dreaming, one that I didn’t get until I woke up because “Owl Creek Bridge” was a reference to an Ambrose Bierce story about a man who dreams wonderful dreams just before he is hanged). It was a moment of realization to him, and he seemed somehow as if he had somehow gotten some peace after the death of his son. He set the paper on the map, then leaned over it again and wrote “home” under it. He smiled at the fans and thanked them.

This is the same sleeping sequence but this part seems to deviate from the previous story.

It was winter outside, and there were kids playing in the snow. It wasn’t a well plowed road, so it was somewhat difficult to see where the road was and where the yard was. I was in the DARPster’s car, and this guy got in—a guy who was not at all my roommate. I asked him if he even knew how to drive a stick, and he said yes, but he didn’t drive it that well. We drove down this snowy unplowed road and this girl ran right next to the car as it was turning, and I had to look down out the window to see if she was hit. She seemed fine and oblivious to the fact that she was very nearly run over. I pounded on the window and waved at her to go back to the yard, and she just looked at me with great surprise as if she just realized the car was there.

Then I was in the cafeteria on campus, sitting at a table with a sandwich. I was eyeing cookies and thinking about eating them with some ice cream since it was a rare occurrence to eat on campus and I might as well splurge a little. Someone asked me to go somewhere, so I went.

Then I was in a store. I don’t know what I was buying or if I was buying anything, but I was in the checkout lane and this lady with three kids hanging off the side of her overflowing cart got in the lane behind me. My aunt and cousin came up with a cart just as full and told the lady they were with me, effectively cutting in line. I helped my aunt unload the cart—it took a while, and my 16 year old cousin was wearing a skirt so short when she bent over I could see her thick black thong. I was looking at her bum like “what the hell are you wearing” in my head, though I didn’t say anything, I just motioned with my head to her mother, who either didn’t notice or say anything about it. At the end of the unloading, there were four Hershey bars. I took another one from the display and set it with them, still wanting something sweet from the interruption in the cafeteria earlier.