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Another long night of dreams that drained me both physically and mentally.

In this one there were white vans, of course. As the dream went on, the vans became bigger and bigger until they were the size of department stores, rolling down the street with their headlights like menancing eyes.

There were twins, football players in green jerseys, one twin black and the other white, who went to take a college entrance exam and had an accident on their way there.

There was the fight with my sister over drunk driving. I said it didn't matter who was drunk or not to the relatives, they still had a dead loved one to deal with. My sister claimed that we didn't have to feel compassion for someone who was drunk.

There was the church, it's doors flung wide open like an animal stretching it's mouth in preparation for prey. I wouldn't go in, but several people behind me kept pushing and shoving until they had forced me into the church. I laid down on the plastic runner that covered the aisle to the altar and was immediately trampled by people carrying protest signs that I couldn't read. I heard my bones cracking, I felt the air being pushed out of my lungs as boots and sneakers and stilleto heels pounded my body.

There was the glass, cone shaped mountain that appeared out of nowhere, after the throng had finished stomping me. I ran with uneven breath, clutching my side in pain, feeling the blood seep through my clothing, towards the mountain. What I thought was glass turned out to be ice, and it felt so good against my bruised body.

There was the space shuttle soaring above the mountain, and I watched it explode in mid-air, sending a shower of flames and sparks that melted my ice mountain, turning it into a river of blood, flames and oil. I watched from the shoulders of a giant as the river grew to proportions that the earth could not sustain and soon it was washing away trees and houses and whole apartment complexes. I was looking down at the earth as if it were a map and I pointed to the giant where I wanted to be set down. He put me in Philadelphia and I started to walk home to Long Island.

There was the van that pulled up next to me as I walked down a dirt road. The driver, whose face I could not see but who had eyes of amber that glowed from within the darkness of the vehicle, did not offer me a ride or attempt to shoot me like I imagined he would. Instead, he just looked at me, just those two glowing eyes staring at me and then he sped away, the van's enormous tires spitting pebbles and dirt at me. I could hear his deep throated laughter over the roar of helicopters that were flying overhead.

I woke myself up, knowing that this part of the dream would probably delve into areas I had been before. The helicopters always preclude that recurring dream.

I laid in the early morning darkness for a bit as a line from Apocalypse Now mysteriously popped into my head.

I love the smell of napalm in the morning.