November 12, 2003
Dream 10-26-03
Dream begins at a camp or summer stock theater, where I am part of a larger group. Someone's uncle has amytal (sodium amytal, truth serum) and four of us are going to try it. The uncle is wearing a white suit ala Tom Wolf, and reminds me of some men I knew twenty five years ago, one a psychiatrist, (who in reality used sodium amytal with a patient of mine), the other a charasmatic teacher in an experimental school - both ebollient, medium sized, good humored, forceful personalities with blondish beards.
First we have to elude the extraneous people (a number of dark haired, olive skinned women). We say we have to rehearse. We then decide that we can't take it on the premises. Take a car with another woman and two men, one of whom is the uncle. The men are on the floor of the back seat, hiding. We begin looking for a place where we can take the amytal. It's night and we're driving around Newton. We pass a house on a hill made of luminous stone with a luminous car parked in front. I am driving. I ask the woman where to find the local parks. She says we should go to the town where I live. It's too far away. I think to myself that she's useless. I take a turn, ostensibly onto a bridge, but miss the bridge and fly through the air in the car, eventually righting the car and landing on the bridge.
Scene changes to a park. In preparation for taking the amytal, I am standing over a campfire over which is an enormous frying pan (perhaps five feet in diameter, a good one with teflon lining). In the pan, I am sauteing dozens of pairs of toddler's white shoes in butter and paprika, stirring them. I will have to wash off the shoes when I'm finished with them, and I think that if I left out the paprika they would be less stained and in better condition to give away later.