Dream of: 05 February2006 "Injured Spider"
A couple women (like me, both about 20 years old) had come from out of town to visit me in the House in New Boston. They stayed for a while, then left. After they had gone, I began thinking about the House and how I sometimes wrote about it and how I described it to people. The House had been new when I had first moved there, and it was still in good shape, even though it had been left empty so long. I thought about how I used to come up to the empty House and drink alcohol. I had even tripped on acid in the House. I recalled how Steve Buckner had sometimes come with me to the House, and I even remembered talking with Steve one day about the House and how he had stated that the only reason we went there was to get drunk or get high.
As I thought about Steve, I wondered if he might be coming to Portsmouth anytime soon. I thought I could give him a call in Columbus, where I thought he lived - but I needed his phone number. So I picked up the phone in the bedroom and called Steve's mother, Helen Buckner, in Portsmouth.
Helen answered the phone and started talking. She talked for 10-15 minutes, mostly about Steve, until she finally mentioned that Steve was out in the back yard. I could hardly believe she had talked to me so long without mentioning that Steve was there. I asked her if I could speak with him, and she said, Yea.
While she went to fetch Steve, I noticed a very pretty spider crawling on something in the bedroom. The spider was larger than average - almost five centimeters across, counting its legs. It had a white body and long dark-reddish legs. I thought to myself that I would like to start collecting some kind of insect such as spiders. It would be nice if I had a friend with whom I could share such a hobby - but I didn't know anyone who liked to collect spiders.
I wondered how the spiders would be caught. I would hate to kill them, but I knew a pin would have to be stuck in them to mount them. I wondered if a spray could be used to kill the spiders.
As I watched, the spider jumped into the air, floated for an instant, then landed on me. It crawled all over me, on my back and in my hair. I tried to keep my eye on it, wondering if it were poisonous. I knew most spiders weren't poisonous, but I didn't know about this one. I stood up in front of a mirror so I could see the spider on my back. It climbed onto my arm and I tried to blow it off. Every time I would blow, the spider would crouch down and hold tight. It crawled all over me. I wanted it off, but I didn't want to kill it.
Finally it crawled onto the tip of my finger. I tried to blow it off, but it grabbed tight. It was holding so tightly, I thought it was going to bite me, so I brushed it off onto the bed. I was afraid I had killed it. I couldn't see it, but at least it was no longer on me. I looked around trying to find it. I hoped I hadn't injured it, but I feared I had.
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