May 1994
I was driving down a two lane highway in the rain. I was concentrating on my driving and the road and the cars in front of me. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a car right on my ass. All I saw was the grill and then nothing else. I sped up to see what kind of car it was and realized it was a cop. He had been trying to pull me over for miles but I did not see him.
The road was packed with cars. I tried to pull over and a car or two got between us and the cop fell back a bit. I saw the opportunity and took it by pulling off the off ramp. At the end of the ramp was Scott G and Dave G house, in the dream they lived together. I entered the house, I was now out of my car, and sat down on the couch in front of the tv. They had a huge picture window as a front wall and we were able to see the highway and the cop who was looking for me. John R was then now as well. We watched the cop drive to the house and walk around the front yard looking for me. He then came in the basement door and walked halfway up the stairs and asked Scott where I was. I was hiding in the attic by this time. Scott said I drove away and got back onto the highway. The cop left, and we saw him running now up the ramp and entering the highway. Apparently, he had forgotten his car.
Scott and I were alone now in the house and decided to go outside. In the backyard, I looked up and noticed the house was at the base of a ski mountain. It was daylight now and there was snow everywhere except where we stood. Just then, helicopters flew into the picture and hovered over the mountain. We were standing in a dried out river bed, among rocks, about a half mile away. wee just stood and took in the scene. There was a lodge on the mountain and soon, there were more helicopters, cop snow mobiles and those grooming machines, all raiding the lodge. At first we thought it was real, but then somehow realized that it was just a show for the skiers. There were shots fired back and forth, explosions, it looked real, but it was just a show.
As the show continued, Al (from the Amuneal lunch truck) came over to us and told us more about the show. He was there to feed the crew. He then took out a strange stick and pointed it at us and trapped us in a force field of some kind. It was invisible. We could not move from where we were standing. Actually, we were both crouching on two large rocks we could not move. A few people now walked over near us to watch the show. Two people stood next to me dressed like pink rabbits. One had a guitar and played some Zeppelin and I was about to comment on it when the other guy turned around and I noticed it was Mr. Bauchamp from the movie Unforgiven. I then noticed a bunch of other people around all dressed real screwy and realized they were in a strange band. They formed a circle around Scott and I and began rehearsing. Mr. Bauchamp went to sit in front of me with his back turned towards me. My feet were stretched out before me and he sat down on them. He did not notice, but he stood up and sat down again right on them. He did not look or anything. He did this
about ten more times until I finally said to everyone, “This guy is sitting on my feet and he doesn’t even realize it!” Everyone laughed.
I then got up,the force field apparently gone, and walked away. I did not know where Scott was, for I did not see him again.
I entered a small building, it looked very much like the new convenience store at Stockton State. Inside, there was a foyer and it was dark as night, lit sparsly by a few random lamps. I went into a small magazine shop and immediately I was in a Saturday Night Live skit. I was supposed to be Richard Pryor and behind the counter was Garret Morris playing Bill Murray. I walked in and started pointing at all the magazine and declaring them racial. I picked on up and it showed a colored person doing something very normal, but I yelled that it was honky bigotry and threw it over my head and got another one. Each cover shot I saw, I said it was slander and racist and portrayed niggers as thieves and lowlifes. I grabbed another one and it turned out to be a Playboy with a hot black woman on the cover. I yelled that not only was this racist, but sexist as well, but I did not throw it over my head, but stuffed it down my pants. I then grabbed Garrit’s cash box and ran out of the store.
I was laughing when I got outside because I knew it was the end of the skit, but no one was there. I realized that I was wrong and it was not a skit but a real store. I went back inside, gave the cash box back, but said I was going to keep the Playboy.
