I have a story.
Sitting in the front, inside a public school bus, an elderly came and approached me. She pointed to another lady in the back who appeared dark and wore a sundress. She was looking straight at me. A few seconds passed and I realized that I have bumped into her before. “She wants you to go there so she can tell you something,” the elderly said to me. I told her “Ah, yes, I recognize her from sometime before, she goes around and lectures about everything … telling people they will go to hell.” I continued looking at the back and said “Let her know that I am not interested.”
The bus stopped and everyone got off. Not knowing where I was going I followed the crowd. I was still thinking of what the lady with the sundress wanted to tell me. I stopped and looked back to see if she was still nearby. She saw me looking for her and came toward my direction. She then pulled out a map drawn in charcoal or a really dark soft lead. The map appeared to be an aerial view of a city. The first thing I thought was “My God! How Monolithic—it’s Gotham City under construction.” I sensed the mayhem and exhilaration that was projecting from the map she was holding. I was full of excitement when I realized I was standing on the site of this construction. I tried to see the details on the map as if recording all that I can so that I would remember, but I was only able to see the profile which appeared as if drawn in an inverse fashion—a sort of M.C. Esher style. The streets appeared black and the rooftops of the skyscrapers were lighter. The map was dense and dark and there was no right up direction. I then looked and at her with questioning eyes. She leaned forward and started to whisper. She said something along the lines of “This is inhumane … according to our history books the men who sweated over building the very first roads in this country …” Her voice started to fade as I noticed several men gathered around another man, all helping to trim his beard. I looked closer and the man with the beard was an old professor of mine name Kipp Dickson.
Back to the lady in the sundress. I was annoyed by her lecture at that point and could not understand why she is condemning this Monolithic Gothic City concept to me. I then told her, “Listen, if you are so proud about your thoughts on this then why don’t you say it OUT LOUD for everyone here to hear? Go on say it out loud … LOUD.” She got uncomfortable and completely stopped talking and I continued forward passing the men trimming my former architecture professor’s beard.
I found myself in a wide long hallway with a similar ambience of an underground train station. Up ahead was Zoila, a friend from childhood. Her body appeared taller as an adult but her face was just as I last recall. I debated if I should say hello as we passed each other and before I could come to a decision she hollered “Rhonna! That is you … are you new here? Do you know where you’re going?” I didn’t look her way, but instead I found myself on an escalator going up and suddenly I replied saying to myself, “Oh wait, yes, I knooow this place, I know this place … I know exactly where to go. I was in this building before. I’ve seen it in my other dream.”
When I awoke from my dream, I drew on my journal the image that was so vivid in my head.
That was the night of August 30, 2005.
I have a story.