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.

Them Bears

Dream Info: Saturday, April 4, 2009
Realism Intensity: 3
Content: PG-13

Up in the hills just outside of the city was a nice resort of sorts. It was set on the foot hills overlooking the valley.

People were strolling about in the warm sunshine. I was walking near the edge of the resort. The bushes moved and out clambered a large grizzly bear. He was several hundred feet up the road so I didn’t feel threatened. I just stopped walking and stared. The bear scratched itself and then started lumbering lazily towards me. I walked slowly backwards and then turned down a side street, into the resort, leaving before anything bad happened.

I saw no more of the bear. I had an urgent message for the owner of the resort, and continued on my way to her house forgetting about the oddity of a bear in this area.

As I drew close to the house, again the bushes shook ahead of me. I froze as the bear jumped out onto the road. It stood and roared. I was being stalked. Behind me, people stopped their morning walks and those at the café lowered the cups of cappuccino.

“Run. Get out of here,” I cried to them, then turned and fled myself. The crowd vanished into buildings. The bear rushed after me.

I was going to die, I knew it. And I ran fueled with fear. I outran a young boy who was wheezing with exertion. I looked over my shoulder as the bear, catching him, crashed and rolled on the ground; the boy clasped in its great claws. I was overjoyed. The boy distracted the bear which was allowing me to escape. What luck; I was going to live.

I stopped running, consumed with guilt. What had I just thought? That was terrible. So I turned and ran back. Against a building was a stack of chopped wood. I grabbed a log and hurled it at the bear. Again and again I threw. The bear drew back, startled by the sudden attack. Confused it retreated to the nearest trees leaving the boy on the ground. I rushed forward, lifted the boy, and together we ran inside a nearby building.

The building had several rooms and large glass windows. In fact, the door was glass. It wouldn’t keep a grizzly bear out long. I locked it as the bear sprinted from the trees towards us.

There were several people inside the store, a gift shop of sorts, who looked at us questioningly. I pulled everyone into the center of the room, away from the windows. The bear slammed into the door. The glass cracked but held. The bear battered angrily. I led everyone through the rooms to another door. But as we reached it, three more bears attacked. That door was glass as well. We were surrounded. I was shocked at how cunningly the bears had apparently planned this.

The first bear crashed through the door. One of the others had worked its way in through a window. The third and fourth worked on the back door. One had its paw through the bottom and was shattering the glass in a widening hole. The sound of roaring, breaking glass, and screaming filled my ears.

Then I woke up.

The Quarry

Dream Info: February 3, 2009
Realism Intensity: 6 (out of 10)
Content: PG

I stepped into the antechamber of a large stone mansion. Light spilled in from the wide doorway. There were no lights…no electricity of any kind, it appeared. The walls were bare stone, cold and solid.

I signaled my friend to follow me as I opened the next thick wooden door and stepped into the black chamber beyond. Cool light spilled into the room from several tall windows. My eyes quickly adjusted and I could see a large table with ornate chairs. Some large, soft, sitting chairs, a couch, and an enormous fireplace, empty but blackened. My friend closed the door behind us.

I walked around the room lifting objects here and there. There was no dust. My foot steps echoed until, in front of the fireplace, I came upon a thick, coarsely woven rug. High upon the walls were paintings. I stood below the nearest and tried to make out it in the dim light. It was a large oil painting and reminded me of something you would see in a catholic church.

Sudden light appeared in the corner. I jumped back. An old woman stood squinting at us with an oil lamp in her hand, raised slightly above her head.

“Eh, Mario, vieni qui. C’abbiamo dei ladri,” the woman croaked.

A tall skinny man promptly appeared in the hall doorway behind her. He had on an undershirt, worn pants, and sad slippers.

“Bah, Maria, non mi sembrano i ladri. Se non c’e di che, stai zitta e lasciami stare,” the man grumbled. He punctuated his sentence with a waved hand, dismissing us. Maria swatted his shoulder. He pushed her away and trundled back into the dark hall.

I assured the woman we were not thieves. We had no idea this mansion was inhabited and had come exploring.

She walked past me casually and mumbled, “Esploratori, son’ peggiore dei ladri.”

We befriended her and stayed for dinner. She and her husband were quite pleasant. I expressed how shocked I was to have found a structure such as their house in the United States. We don’t build with solid stone often. Maria recounted how their families had immigrated to the US and Mario’s father had started carving this house out of the cliff. It was carved from the living stone. No mortar, no seams; just one piece of stone, a sculpture of a house. They operated a quarry that Mario still ran. Maria’s father had come to the states and found work with Mario’s father. The two had met. The rest was history.

As she and her husband talked, I stared at the beautiful paintings in the flickering lamp light. The night grew late. They invited us to stay over.

The next morning, sitting in the back of Mario’s old pickup truck, my friend and I bounced as we pulled out of the mansion’s rocky driveway. We were headed up the canyon to the side of their house. Jolting back and forth I marveled and the large stone house buried deep with in the shadow of the cliff that surrounded it. Over the decades they had removed an impressive amount of stone. The sheer cliff rose for hundreds of feet. You could clearly see where Mario’s father and his brothers had started chiseling inward. They had removed the raw stone leaving their sculptured house.

The mountains pressed in around us. We drove under a high natural archway of stone. Vines dangled down. There were many strange rock formations. The trees were dense. Here and there we spied cracks and openings in the rocks; possible caves beckoning me to come explore.

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!”