Michael Jackson, anger for a black woman, Bush in a hill of snow and ice, & eigheenth century state troopers in an enchanted land -- dream

I was in front of the apartment I lived in when attending high school in Hyde Park in Chicago. It was dark, but not as dark as night. The famous singer Michael Jackson was going to show up, and enter the building immediately to the south of the one containing the apartment I had lived in, the building where the Lautmans lived when I was living there. I trained this gray digital camera I had on the building next door, hoping to capture a shot of Michael Jackson entering it...the camera I was holding began to fall apart, and I asked someone who was near me to help me to put it back together. Then I was in this narrow, about four feet wide, about twenty yards long hallway indoors. At the opposite end of the hallway I saw someone, there was something aggressive about him, he was wearing white, I could not see him clearly. Looking at him I was thinking to myself, that the sense of invulnerability that I have had, has been just a delusion after all. He hurled a javelin at me. It just missed me, wedging itself between me and the wall. The aggressor came at me, We ended up fighting, I killed him with the javelin; while I was stabbing him, I felt as if he was my brother...Then I was in this building, which was shaped like a rectangle, about the size of a basketball court, with inner balconies facing into an indoor courtyard about the size of a basketball court. The balconies were three or four stories above the ground, the light was again like the light when evening turns to night, not quite as dark as night. Looking at the courtyard and surrounding balconies from the point of view of them being in front of me, I was on the balcony to my left. There was a slim young black woman, with somewhat wave black hair near me. I think she was wearing a crimson shirt. I told her that she should be guarding me, the way linemen guard a quarterback. I was angry with her. I grabbed her, and acted as if I was about to throw her over the balcony to the ground below. But instead I threw her over the balcony on to this large bed, that was only about five feet below the balcony, and that took up about half the space of the inner basketball court shaped and sized courtyard, at the far end of the courtyard, looking at the courtyard from the perspective of it being in front of me...Then, I was outdoors at night, and I began to feel as if I was in some kind of magical, enchanted land. I saw a small hill of snow and ice, about thirty feet high, and about twenty yards wide. I saw myself in front of this hill of snow and ice. Inside of the hill made of snow and ice, I could through the snow and ice, see a dim yellowish light. I heard voices coming from the inside of the hill made of snow and ice. The voices sounded rough and raspy, they sounded like voices of pirates in a Disney movie about pirates made for children, more than voices of demons in a horror movie. One of the voices was the voice of President Bush. I turned and faced the hill of snow and ice, wnich was about five yards away from me, and saluted, because I did not want to get into trouble with President Bush. Then I saw a humvee about fifteen yards away, driving in my direction. It was wider and lower than the real life humvees, and colored a dark gray. A white man with a brown mustache was driving it. He was wearing a dark gray cowboy type hat, and a dark gray cloak. He looked human, but at the same time, there was something about him that made him seem cartoon character-like. Just as places can have an atmosphere, there was an atmosphere to him, again sort of like a character in an action-filled Disney movie for children, he seemed bold but not thoughtful. Then I saw a tall white pretty woman, over six feet tall, who was not wearing a hat, dressed the same way as the guy driving a humvee, wearing a dark gray coat. It seemed to me that she was wearing the uniform of a state trooper from eighteenth century America; she and the guy driving the humvee both seemed like state troopers from eighteenth century America. Her straight brown hair was in that style where it is parted in the middle and falls over at least the top of the ears, and is somehow tied up so that it does not fall below the shoulders. Her face was more squarish looking than faces of similar women I know from real life, which somehow reminded me that my face is more squarish looking than these similar women I have seen in real life. The dream ended. When I awoke, I felt a pleasant sort of buzzing, tingling sensation in my head and brain, which I sometimes feel when I awake during a pleasant dream--I felt the same pleasant tingling sensation in my head when I awoke from the dream a couple of days ago about Erin wanting to "make it with me".

This dream sort of reminds me of the Kublai Khan poem by Coleridge. Maybe if I simply broke it up into little short lines, and was a black female, I could be considered a great poet like Maya Angelou. Some of the lines in the above paragraph have a natural rhythm and rhyme to them already.