Flight of the Argonauts: Part 3 of 3

Dream Info: November 18, 1998
Realism Intensity: 3
Content: R

The third dream in this Sequence: While not required, reading the first part will help explain some of the significances of this dream.

Part III:

Three large wood frigates floated out bay doors in the side of a giant rust colored building. This building sat perched on the top of a stony mountain. These ships unfurled their sails, turned south, and soared through the air heading over the jagged mountain range. After the ships crossed the last peaks they slowly sank through the air towards the meandering river lying thousands of feet below in the fertile valley. The huge ships plunged into the wide river, causing their hulls to shake and groan; the bow dipped and then leveled. Water splashed over the sides. The frigates continued down the river and into the ocean.

I stood on the bow of the lead ship as we sailed towards the horizon. I watched the jagged mountains that had filled the sky slowly shrink and eventually vanish.

I was on my way. I was one step closer to finding her. I was running out of places to search.

The passengers were all gathering to one side of the boat. Curious, I thrust my way through the crowd. A large rock formation, barely breaking the surface of the water, lay off our portside. On the rocks lay a large mass of walruses. All the tourists were snapping pictures hurriedly. I laughed to myself.

Let them get excited about the walruses I thought. I just wanted to sleep. To this point it had already been a long voyage.

I woke to a crewmember shaking me urgently. He told me to abandon ship, that we had been attacked. How was that possible when I had not heard a thing? I dressed and rushed topside; my mind still in a sleepy daze. All was a blur. I found myself, when my mind finally cleared its fog, hanging onto the bottom of a giant blimp. I was at the back and near the large propellers that lifted the craft into the sky. Behind us, the top of our ships masts struck out of the sea at an odd angle. The ship was sinking. Of the other two, there was no sign.

As I looked around I noticed the captain was next to me and looked none too happy. Hundreds of people from our ship were dangling from the bottom of the craft’s thin metal frame. But something was wrong. The front of the blimp had ripped free from the frame and had just caught fire. The wind, hitting in gusts, blew the flaming fabric wildly about. In this turbulence many people fell to the frothy water, which I just noticed was not very far below.

Quickly enough the fire was extinguished. Too much of the crafts’ balloon had burned and we were losing altitude. We were only about hundred feet in the air and slowly going down. The pilot knew we were in trouble and was steering the airship back in a direction that must have been towards land. We passed over the rock outcropping covered with walruses, but this time the tourists were too panicked to notice. I swung around the craft trying to comfort people as the captain yelled orders above to the pilot who struggled to keep the craft in the air. Now and then someone’s arms gave out and they fell to the water below. Some resurfaced and could be seen swimming weakly. Some hit the water and were never seen again.

Time dragged along and the water drew closer. There: we saw the shore and the jagged mountains farther in with the sun lighting their tops. Not a moment too soon, either. Our feet we skimming the tops of the waves. The craft was still a good way out. A large wave rose high enough to grab the legs of the people in the front, dragging the whole airship suddenly down. It crashed into the rolling waves dangerously trapping many people under it.

I swam under the sinking craft, pulling people out to safety as the water pushed us towards the inlet of a narrow bay, almost a fjord.

The current swept survivors to an island pressed up against the base of some cliffs. Sea lions lined the beach and up on the grassy center stood a group of large buffalo. Many of the survivors tried to climb onto the island, but the inhabitant sea lions rushed anyone attempting to crawl to safety. Many of the passengers tried to swim across the main part of the fjord, but the current was far too strong and swept them away. This island was our only chance for rest.

One of the sea lions stood up and addressed us.

“This is our beach. There is no room for you.” It said in a gruff voice.

“Please, let us on your island temporarily.” I said to it. “We have swum from out in the ocean and are extremely tired. We’ll only use the very northern tip of the island.”

It thought about this.

“Only the tip,” Growled the sea lion in acceptance.

All of the survivors crawled onto the beach of this island and lay on the rocky shore. Everything went well until some teenagers, who had recovered from the ordeal, wanted more room to sprawl out. More room: like the sandy beach the sea lions were sleeping on. A group started throwing rocks at the sea lions. More and more people joined the group trying to move the creatures off the sandy beach. The people yelled, “off dumb animals,” and threw rocks. One rock flew wide and hit a grazing buffalo. It grunted, then turned and kicked a large rock off the ground. The rock shot through the air like a cannon ball and hit one of the members of the crowd square in the chest. The person dropped to the ground dead. This only made the people angrier. They threw more rocks and started moving forward, aggressively herding the sea lions and buffaloes to one corner of the island.

The captain and I looked at each other. We knew we had just worn out our welcome. The captain ran to gather the crew together and left me to attempt to herd the passengers back.

One young man had rushed ahead of the mob and was waving a large stick at the animals, yelling “This island is for us now. You can swim, you stupid animals.” A large buffalo was slowly meandering away and the man whacked it in the rear angrily. The buffalo swung around and rammed the man in the chest. The man dropped the stick and held on to the buffalo’s head as it swung him around wildly. Luckily the man had fit in-between the horns nicely and no matter how hard the buffalo shook or jerked its’ head the man was able to keep its horns from spearing him.

After a few seconds of vain thrashing, the buffalo also realized this. It stopped shaking the man around and stood up on its hind legs. With its massive front legs it grabbed the man. The buffalo thrust him through his horns, impaling and killing him instantly. It then pulled off the limp and bleeding body and threw it at the mob of people, which knocked many over. The crowd stood in shock. Then, the large buffalo charged.

All was lost. No one heeded my cries. I surrender hope and worried about saving myself. I dove into the water, swam the twenty feet or so across to the base of the cliff and pulled myself onto a ledge slightly above the water. Surprisingly I found the ledge I was on was made of rusty metal and had a dirty hatch in it. I tried to open it but couldn’t. I then realized that it was a bathroom drain for the complex we had launched from on the other side of the mountains. If someone would just flush a toilet the hatch would open, the refuse would gush out, and I could crawl in. That hatch was safety.

I turned back to the island and saw that the animals were rampaging everywhere. Many of the passengers were diving into the main part of the fjord where the fast flowing swept them away.

A large buffalo strolled to the edge of the island and glared at me. It stood up on its hind legs and inched into the water. It was coming for me. As it approached, I pried at the hatch frantically.



A woman lay dead. Her blood ran through her beautiful blonde hair dying it red. Her shapely figure lay crumpled in one of the bathroom stalls in the rusty complex on the other side of the mountains. Her purse had fallen open in the struggle and its contents were scattered all over the bathroom floor. A man with black gloves bent over the body, shifting though documents and wallet eagerly. All gold and jewels he collected he slipped into his pocket. Documents he slid into a small black bag.

The woman had not had time to flush the toilet.

Flight of the Argonauts: Part 1 of 3

Dream Info: November 18, 1998
Realism Intensity: 3
Content: PG-13

We stood to the side of the door as we rang the bell and cocked our guns. We raised and readied them. My partner, a blond with a serious face and an incredible figure, and I had been sent with one objective. She nodded to me. I jumped to the door, kicked it down, and dove in rolling on my back and shooting. The man at the table was killed instantly; my partner was at my side and had taken out the other man coming from the bathroom. No attempts at negotiating. No chance for our targets to escape. Our objective had been achieved easily; this time.

A few hours later we found ourselves being drawn into a small café at the mall. We were both exhausted from the day’s mission. It was my partner’s treat this time, and as she paid for the coffee I grabbed a small table.

We sat sipping our coffee and discussing the latest news. She was commenting on how ugly the new bell bottom pants, the current fashion, were when I spilled coffee in my lap; she laughed. I jumped up in pain—

There were loud shouts and a few shots from the lower mall floor out in the hall. We looked at each other and darted out the café door. I looked over the railing as two men sprinted by below. My gun was in my hand in a flash and I squeezed the trigger gently. Nothing happened. My partner pulled out her gun and took out both of them cleanly, just as they were entering the parking garage. I jerked the trigger several times extremely hard and my pistol finally shot.

“It wasn’t my fault! I fired! Nothing happened! My gun has a malfunction.” She glared at me disbelievingly as I sputter this out. We both knew we had state-of-the-art weapons, the best the government could make, and they did not just ‘malfunction.’

The next day at the mall again.

Three men in pinstriped suits calmly stepped into a large see-through elevator and rode to the next floor as I dashed around the corner. I frantically hit at the doors as they exited on the floor above. The elevator zoomed down, and the giant light-blue doors finally allowed me access. I pushed the button and the elevator shot upward and as it came to the next floor and stopped I jumped to get that flying feeling (As I always do in an elevator), only then did I realize that this was one of the new low-grav lifts. I jumped and didn’t come down. I kicked wildly as the door opened revealing the three men breaking into a shop at the side of the to the side of the elevator. My foot finally found the wall of the elevator and I propelled myself out the door, only I was ten feet up in the air. I crashed to the ground, rolled, flipped, rolled again— dodging their fire. All the while I was aiming at them and pulling my trigger. It would click but nothing would come out.

I had crossed the hall, rolling and jumping, and was now opposite the mobsters. As I jumped backwards my gun started working and I shot the three mobsters as I crashed through a large glass window. I had not been shot once. As I got to my feet and climbed back out the window, I noticed my partner with her arms folded leaning against the opposite wall glaring at me.

She suddenly grabbed and shook me. The elevator had just passed carrying more gangsters.

“The other group,” She yelled.

I rushed down the stairs to try to head them off. She ran to the other elevator and sat impatiently waiting for it to come down.

I ran to the bottom floor just as the elevator reached it. I quickly jumped onto the railing at the bottom of the stairs right next to the elevator so the gangsters would not see me as quickly.

The door opened and the men exited, stopped, and all stared at me on the railing frantically pulling the trigger on my gun. Their bald leader walked up to me; I kept my gun pointed at his head as I continued to pull the trigger, but nothing happened.

“Well well, Mr. Parker. It is so nice to see you again.” The lead gangster laughed, signaling his henchmen to kill me. They raised their guns, aimed, and dropped dead. The leader turned as my trusty partner shot him; he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Once again she gave me a glare that could freeze boiling water. I attempted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. I stood there opening and closing my mouth with a stupid frown on my face.

Suddenly the elevator started upward. Four more gangsters could be seen through the glass on the upper floor. We darted down the stairs to the lower floors; the stairs jackknifed every ten steps.

We passed through the lower floor, which happened to be a library, and my partner continued her descent, however I stopped on the library level and looked up the stairs to see where the gangsters were. The goons were catching up quickly. I knew I had to descend faster so I hopped over the railing to fall to the jackknife below. But as I landed with a thud, I realized that somehow I was still on the library floor. I’d jumped over the railing, fallen, and landed right where I had just jumped from. What?

I darted away from the stairs to hide behind one of the chest high bookcases that were scattered across the giant room, as I did so I noticed another staircase on the opposite side of the library.

I heard a shout and turned to see my partner at the stairs yelling, “Trevor! Come on!”

“Get outta here. They’re on top of us!” I shouted, but instead of going down the stairs, she started towards me. “No,” I continued. “Get down the stairs! Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. You just get back to HQ… NOW!”

With that, she darted down the stairs with one last worried glance at me. The gangsters reached the floor and split into two groups, two after me, two continuing down the stairs after her.

I dove behind a bookcase further to the back of the room. All the bystanders continued looking at their books as if nothing was going on. I scanned for the two men hunting me, but couldn’t find them. I was in a bad situation.

I ran, crouched, to another bookcase somewhat closer to the stairs. I peeked around the side of the case, nothing. Instinct told me that the men were behind me, so with a smile on my face, I stood up and turned. Sure enough, a gangster was three feet away with his gun pointed at my head. His friend was a bookcase away smiling at me.

I struck the gun out of the first goons’ hand with lightening speed. It clattered to the ground a few feet away, but he didn’t even attempt to go after it. He lowered his hand and just stood there, a smile cracked his lips.

It suddenly came to mind that I had not been watching the back staircase at the opposite side of the library. Instinct told me again what to expect as I turned. Once again, I found myself staring guns aiming at my face. Four gangsters had entered. A person pushed by one of them and walked up to me.

Smiling, she said, “Hello Mr. Parker. You’ve been a thorn in my side for far to long. You’ve killed some of my best men, and I’m just glad that I’ll be the one who gets the honor of killing you. Lord knows how many of my mob bosses would pay for this honor.”

Susan Packer turned and coughed before finishing. “Yes, and don’t worry, your little friend will not escape either. What was her name?”

Just as Susan said that last line, a violent but quick barrage of gun shots echoed into the room from the floors below. Then there was silence.

“Oh well, I guess her name’s not important now,” Susan laughed.

I screamed and collapsed to the floor. Everything went black. The goons moved closer to get a better look at my anguish.

The Mine

Dream Info: June, 2009
Realism Intensity: 8
Content: R

Accompanied by two friends, one male and one female, I climbed through the collapsed entrance and into the wide tunnel of an abandoned mine. Everything was ordinary enough until several hundred feet in. There, hewn rock walls were replaced by dingy metal. The rock ground descended into wide stairs. The mine suddenly felt like an old underground installation of some kind. Rooms lined the stairs as we proceeded. They were all rather small. Some had doors, some curtains, some nothing. Occasional there were chairs but usually the rooms were empty.

I ducked into a room and stopped. My heart leapt to my throat. The room had a table, a couple of tipped boxes whose contents had spilled out, and several chairs. One of the chairs was occupied.

The person was facing the wall. I could only see his back. He was slouching. His dark hair was matted and unkempt. His headed rested at an awkward angle and both arms hung down. Their flesh was dusty and a sickly gray. The fingers were black and curled.

He was dead.

I must have made a noise for my two friends appeared at my sides. The girl screamed. The guy grunted.

It was as if I was frozen. I couldn’t move. It was incredibly eerie to come across a dead body. I had never seen one before. And here I was deep underground in the dark, in a small room, with a corpse. My mind wasn’t sure how to respond and my heart was pounding.

Somehow I approached the man. I moved the opposite direction his head was titled so as to avoid his face for as long as possible. I was not sure I wanted to see his expression. His chest distracted me from thoughts of his face. The man’s ribcage had been burned and was sunken in which allowed a perfect view of the insides of his lower abdomen. There was nothing identifiable: no organs, or bone structure. Just a yellowish orange liquid pooled down inside the black opening. The smell hit me. It was of orange juice, alcohol, and the bitter twang of throw-up.

I covered my mouth and nose, jerked erect, and discovered the man staring eyelessly at me. The face was gray and still bloated. Stains had dried where fluid had run from his now empty eye sockets. The hair on my neck stood up. I realized his body was too well preserved. Too much of his soft tissue was still on him: his bloated and streaked face, his hanging arms…he appeared to have died rather recently. This was an exceedingly uncomfortable realization.

Clarity came to my mind as I realized we were deep underground in the dark, in a small room, with a fresh corpse; a corpse that had died in a gruesome and undoubtedly unnatural way.

My skin was crawling and I was terrified. And I woke up.

The Griffin

Dream Info: 1997
Realism Intensity: 5 (out of 10)
Content: PG-13

A small group of my friends and I were hiking along the ridge of a small canyon with a creek trickling at the bottom (Like Gold Creek / Webb Canyon). The trees were tropical: palm Trees, large ferns, and such. There was the peak of a red tiled roof stabbing out above the trees some distance away.

My friends and I were moseying down the ridge when one of them noticed a parasailer gliding over head. The man had a large lime green parachute and was wearing a dark green jump suit and a yellow helmet. He careened over the canyon and plummeted into the foliage on the other side with a large crash. We stood there waiting to see any sign if he was OK, but he was completely hidden. Seconds later there was a quiet rumbling; a few of the trees started to shake. The rumbling grew louder. The trees ripped from the ground and fell over. Some flew into the air along with chunks of dirt and roots. An enormous head poked up. As the rubble and dust cleared, we could see a great green body under it. It was the yellow head of an eagle with the green body of a lion.

We stood in awe as the griffin spread its wings and screeched angrily. It lifted into the air with a leap.

My friends and I took off into the forest in the direction of the red roofed house. A large group of hikers had been in the canyon and had seen the griffin emerge. They too were running to that house. I stumbled through the forest to the dull roar of the griffin’s wings. A log caught my foot and I fell. In every direction around me people scurried through the woods. Without warning the constant roar stopped. In a heart beat the canopy above one of the stragglers erupted. Trees around him splintered and the ground shook with an awful force. In a flash the griffin was back in the air. One less hiker ran on to the safety of the house.

I jumped to my feet and ran with a renewed fear.

Many of the runners were dashing through a clearing as quickly as they could manage. Right when I made it to the middle the griffin plunged into the ground just to my left. The force of the impact knocked me off my feet. I looked over and saw the griffin pounce on a few more unlucky hikers, a body or two hung out of its snapping beak. Five people (a group of friends probably) lay mangled and dead where the griffin first landed. I jumped under some dead fallen logs, hoping to hide. The logs over me shuddered and cracked. Large talons probed all around under the logs to find me. Some one screamed, saving me. The griffin leapt away at once in pursuit. Taking a risk, I sprung out from under the logs and ran hard.

I rounded a hill and the forest ended. A giant mansion (Like a giant hotel) lay in front of me. I rushed inside; the people who had already made it were running around crying and hugging everyone else. The roar of the griffin could be heard outside.



- 2 -

I found my friends in a large theater room. It was at least four stories high, and three hundred feet in length. A crash sounded from one of the higher rooms. Someone had foolishly walked in front of a window. The griffin had rammed through the wall to get at them. It must have started an electrical fire for soon, flames appeared on the ceiling. The outer wall collapsed in on itself suddenly. By the time the dust cleared, the griffin had already killed six people. I grabbed my friends and pointed to a staircase we had not previously noticed that went to the basement. We rushed down and into darkness— safety.

The basement was huge but had no lights. In the dim light from cracks in the ceiling we could see the walls had only been framed. The middle had shelves through it like those in a grocery store. Other areas had boxes stacked high, but most of the basement was empty.

I could no longer hear anything from the room above, so I walked to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. The griffin was running past the top of the stairs and my movement attracted its attention. There was a coat rack full of coats at the bottom of the stairs, and I jumped into them right as the griffin rushed back to the top of the stairs. It squeezed down the stairs but couldn’t fit through the door. Never once did it even acknowledge me hiding in the coats. It could not smell well.

I ran to one of the corners in the basement, far from the door we had come down, and stopped below a crack. I climbed on some boxes and pushed one of the floorboards up. It broke. Some people cowering in the room above saw me and came down into the basement with my help. Others to follow. After the last person, I jumped from the box and ran. I felt the now familiar thud. I turned to see the griffin pounce through three wall frames and snap someone in half. My crack in the ceiling was now a gaping hole.

I ran, and ran, and ran; the griffin was careening out of control behind me. Its huge outline could be seen attacking boxes and anything else that attracted its attention. I ducked behind an object, stopped to catch my breath, and tied my shoes. Someone hunched over next to me in the darkness. It was one of my friends. We patted each other on the back, afraid to talk, but we did let out a little laugh. A piercing screech came from behind us and a talon scraped around the object we were against, catching my friend in the chest. I panicked and ran. The griffin jumped through the ceiling. The clatter of broken boards falling to the ground echoed behind me.

In the sudden light from the griffin’s hole I found a semi with a giant parade float on the flatbed. Someone was already starting the rig so I jumped onto the float trailer as he took off. The truck flew through a garage door and we were bathed in sunlight.

Two others were on the float, which was a giant bed with posts at each corner with a thin canopy. It had many decorative pillows strewn about it and small flags were attached to the top of each post.



- 3 -

We were on a two-lane road in the middle of nowhere doing about eighty. Behind us rose the mountain and mansion. In front and all around were small rolling hills. No fences, no trees— just luscious green grass, the sun, and no sign of pursuit.

I was standing on the head board when the roaring sound or wings caught my attention. I looked behind me as a gigantic green dragon flew over the semi. Its yellow head pointed down, looking at us as it cruised over the float. I quickly hid under the pillows and urged the others to do the same, but they said that there was no reason. The dragon had passed us by. I snuggled deeper into my pillow nest with a growing sense of anticipation. The dragon suddenly flipped back at the rig. It smashed head-on into the bed, crushing it and killing the two boys on the float. The dragon roared back into flight, blood dripping from its mouth. It circled the semi. I lay under the pillows in pain from the impact.

For hours the dragon circled, occasionally diving against the truck, almost knocking it from the road. I stayed hidden under the pillows waiting to die. The dragon became more aggressive. I mustered my strength and dove off the float and into a ditch. The dragon kept its attack on the truck.

Later: my family was in our family room watching TV. I was on the couch, tired and sore. The News was reporting on an accident where a semi had somehow been tipped over in a river with the roof ripped off. The entire steering column and driver’s seat were missing. The driver had still not been found. A shadow passed in front of the side windows. I looked nervously at my sisters. Suddenly Lulu, our green and yellow parakeet, flew in through the spa room and landed in his cage.

Mom yelled, “Quick, he’s in! Shut the cage door. Make sure you never let him out again.” Looking at Janean and Kristin she added, “and you had better obey this time!”