seanspecht

My dream comes so close to ending on so many occasions.  I have never seen the final outcome of what happens to me, or the Indian, or the truck or anything?! Although there are clues left for me that flash in my head only showing me glimpses of what possibilities have lead up to this point. Have I gone mad? Is my body rejecting reality or is my conscious really trying to alert me for sudden death. I am still unsure but maybe these images will explain the truth.

One of the cruelest characters came to me in a nightmare one morning.  This dream had an empty landscape, no other human contact, and resulted in a painful death.

The Dream:

I traverse down a two lane county road at speeds excess of 90 miles an hour, staring forward into the wasteland.  Things seem to blur as I fly past them but one image appears in the sunset. A man, a figure, something that resembles some form of the human body past.  I refuse to yield for the figure as I assume it is merely my thoughts attacking me from lack of sleep.  As I progress towards the figure imagery starts assaulting my thoughts.  A cold soul reaches my neck and whispers in my ear. A repetitive chant evolves from whispers no louder than the wind into roars of thousands of voices.  This man is controlling me, and I cannot brake.  The figure is now near and I am frozen.  Imagery flashes of this mans life and memories. He is Native American and the road, decades past, was his land.  Anger is overwhelming me and I begin to feel tears drip down my cheek.  He was a warrior, dancing for his lost life, his life stolen for money and revenue.  He feels cheated.  As the imagery quickly resides I flash into the course of the dream. Barreling down this road into this figure, he is so close.  He hs no fear of me, I know this because he dances and chant in the middle of the road.  But I am compassionate and cannot bear to hurt him more.  Time begins to slow.  I feel my arms jerk to the right, I feel the car begin to shift its weight, and I narrowly pass the man.  He stares at my eyes piercing my past seeing every wrong action Ive done.  Lightening strikes the man as he exhausts in victory, victory over what is unseen.   He has no guilt nor sympathy for me.  The only thing that breaks the stare is the side of the door slowly breaking our stare. Time still slow, slower, slower.  I look forward again.  The car is airborne,  and not level,  I cannot fix this,  90 miles an hour into solid ground is the fate given to me through the eyes of this man, this monster.  I don’t wonder why, only accept my death and I loosen my grip on the wheel.  Then the storm is black.  And I inch towards the ground.  Time slow.  But the end of the car hits, and time resumes at a normal speed.  I close my eyes and try not to scream…  Then I wake up

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http://seanspecht.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/contactsheet.pdf

I mean honestly… Norris has more belts than Pac-Sun and has round housed more chins than fish in the sea. But even Norris looks small next to Liddell. I think the only way Old Chuck could pull it off is with a gun and a getaway car!

So I’m going through this wordpress deal and trying to strategically fit as much info as I can in here. But with as much work as I want to put out for show 3 G’s will not suffice. I’m sure I’ll have some really compressed images on here in no time! Until then… ^^^