January 11, 1991.

I live in a big house with my parents, who are not my adoptive
parents, Reg and Marcelle. It is a house like a museum or a
department store. I wear three emeralds on my face, one on my
chin. We live high on a hill.

Suddenly, a crowd of poor people are rushing to the door. My
mother fears they will steal everything in the house. I don't
really care nor am I afraid of them.

We have to leave. We have to take a plane in an hour. A
lecherous old priest keeps making passes at me. He kisses me on
the mouth. At one point, hi is reprimanded by his superior. He
gets angry and knocks the superior down, dons his red robe, a
hooded cloak, and runs away in a city filled with incredible
traffic. He nearly gets hit several times. I follow him,
carefully, to see where he is going. Also, I want to retrun to
the house before we take the pplane to go get my things. I am
conscious I only have an hour. I have to climb the hill. It is
just one big flat, steep surface, made out of cobblestone. I
have to crawl up, flat on my stomach at times. I realize there
is a design made with the cobblestone. I feel the stones, which
are different colours, all dark, earthy colours. I realize it is
the snake goddess. A snake goddess with more than one head, or
two snakes entertwined. I am ecstatic. I have found her. I
crawl up, faster and faster, higher and higher. At the top,
there are two plastic tombs standing straight up, one on each
side of the hill. I am sure the tombs are not locked. I succeed
in opening them but they are empty.

I am in my house with Nicolas, (my youngest son). It is the
house I saw earlier in the dream. I am picking thingsup for my
suitcase. The plane is in less than an hour. Suddenly, hot
grease jumps out of the pan and starts a fire in the room.
Nicolas and I blow and blow and put it out.

I am descending the hill, sliding down on my stomach. There are
people here, there, all over, like people in there pews at
church. Oddly enough, they can kneel or stand. Suddenly, white
balloons come flowing down the hill; thousands of them, from the
house. I wonder if it is magic or my parents who are letting the
balloons out of our house.


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