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THE DREAM JOURNAL
OF L. CARUANA


BREAKING THE FLOODGATES OF REASON
Paris, March 12, 1997


      I have been haunted by dreams of derelicts or 'clochards' for years. Usually, he is a dark, nightmarish figure. This dream reveals a more positive aspect.

      Towards the end of a long complicated dream, I find myself with my wife in a cafe. In fact, we are sitting on the patio or terrace, and I can see that the cafe is in America. (Meanwhile, the architecture and lay-out of the cafe had many similarities to Cafe an der Uni in Munich, where I used to drink sometimes...)
      There is a
derelict, half crazy, walking between tables and muttering to himself. It is clear to me that, due to his dementia, he has been searching for years for'the door that will release the great stream of water'. He gets on my nerves (and indeed, in the dream, I feel the same strong repulsion that I feel for clochards here on the streets of Paris - though I don't really know why I have such a strong and extremely negative reaction).
      Since the derelict is in the habit of trying every door that will open, he tries a door made of wood and iron that is set into the stone wall of the garden. The door is old and hasn't been used for years. The entire wall is overrun with vines.
      But the door creaks open, and we suddenly hear
a tremendous flow of water. Everyone in the cafe goes through the door to see what is happening. On the other side, there is a large forest with a path cut through it. The released flood of water is now flowing along this path, and the derelict can be seen further ahead, running through the stream towards the sunset.
      My wife and I decide to investigate the source of the stream of water. We can see that there is a massive house with many labyrinthine walls and shrubs around it. In fact, we are at the back of the house. And, because of the stream of water, we are able to trace a path through the labyrinth, and easily wend our way in.
      Inside the house, it is dark, but we can still make out the traditional American furnishings. We have the impression that a person of great power lives in this house.
      Suddenly, I recognize where we are. I turn to my wife and say enigmatically
'we are in the white house'.

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