Kidnapped, Not the Messiah

              I dreamed that I was two little girls. It was an odd sort of thing, being two separate people, aware of both of them, and aware of being aware of each other, but myself at the same time. The plot of the dream, such as there was, involved being stuffed in the back of an old car. One that was made before emergency releases inside the trunk. It was not, however made so well as to have the whole trunk latching mechanism completely covered. Working together, I/we were able to loosen our bonds and to release the trunk. I/we waited until we were stopped at an intersection with lots of other traffic, then bolted out of the trunk into a nearby restaurant. It was at that point that my view suddenly switched to a third person, but detached from the twins. As the adults in the restaurant came to their rescue, the kids waved goodbye to me. I seemed to be invisible to everyone else.

              In another dream I found myself sitting in the forest, I was with dozens of other people, people who had the look of adoring worshipers about them. They seemed to be listening intently to the inane things I had to say. I found myself trying to convince them that they needed to live their own lives, make their own way, educate themselves. It was very much like the scene from “The Life of Brian.” Only, it didn't seem funny. In fact it was all rather ominous, like some of these folks were true believers who were so mixed up in the head that I was worried that they felt I needed to be sacrificed by the authorities to underline the serious nature of my “teachings.”
              I, on the other hand, had no intention of dying for anyone's sins, unless they were my own. “This is not the second coming, people. The universe is big, it doesn't care about us, we have to care about us.”