willpower

I walked the streets of an unfamiliar town on dusk. There was a pub on every corner. No traffic, just men, who walked the town and mooched about outside pub doors. I felt uncomfortable, so I willed myself up into the air. Rather than walking through the crowd, I floated above, out of reach.

Later, I walked out of a doorway into the street. Tall men mooned about and violence seemed certain to erupt. This time, I willed myself down under the ground where I swam through earth. I thought of underground creatures, like ants and snakes, but I felt more comfortable in this subterranean world than wading through the throng of men above ground. Once I'd passed under the crowd, I emerged from the earth and went on my way.

Still later, I watched as a woman of around sixty years clutched at her chest. She was in great pain and it seemed she was having a heart attack. Moments later, she shrugged it off, recovering quickly. I realised she was extremely fit –– someone who trained every day. Again, she grabbed at her chest, her heart paining her, and again, she regained her composure quickly. The woman called a friend to ask what was happening to her. Her friend told her her enemy was attempting to kill her by willing her to have a heart attack, but her level of fitness protected her.

winning gold and cult

I was visiting a local shopping centre and decided to enter a competition of some kind. It was not a test of skill; rather, it was much like winning a lottery –– a game of chance. I purchased a digital 'ticket' by swiping my mobile phone, and pressed 'play'. I watched my mobile screen as numbers and symbols spun around on three reels, as they do on a standard poker machine. I pressed 'stop' and my screen lit up and music played. The phone showed gold coins spilling out of a casket and piling higher and higher. A cash amount flashed on the screen –– around $36, 000 (I cannot recall the exact figure). I was very excited and immediately began to budget out my winnings.

Later, I dreamed I was in a huge hall with hundreds of other people. We'd gathered to attend a weekend workshop of some kind. There were various crew members –– both women and men –– walking around, attending to the audience, and a few women on stage, talking to the crowd. All of the crew appeared to be fit and healthy, and I gathered I was there to learn about health. I could see a few family members and close friends also gathered in the hall. As a woman on stage spoke, the man sitting next to me whispered a few asides: 'You know they change an annual fee of $700 dollars, don't you?', 'Just wait until we've all signed in. Everything changes.', 'Once you're in, you're in. Don't say I didn't warn you.' –– that kind of thing. I grew increasingly alarmed. I looked around and noticed the crew were now walking through the audience, taking hair samples from everyone. Each person was to cut a lock of their hair and give it to the crew, who would then place and seal it in a small plastic bag. Some people were readily snipping off samples of their hair, obliging and even proud to follow the directive. Others seemed uncertain. I asked my friend if she intended to give a hair sample and she answered, 'Of course. Why not?' I didn't like it. I wondered why they wanted our hair. I wondered what they were going to do with it and felt worried they'd somehow use our DNA. Follow-up crew were now getting around the crowd, having people sign a form –– a permission form? I knew I had to leave, although I was bound to cause a scene as I was sitting in the middle of a row towards the back of the hall, and would have to walk through the audience up to the very front to make it out the door. I hoped my family and friends would follow.