Dream of ghosts

[fbhjr]

I dreamed that I was working as a stage magician’s assistant. There were
some things he needed a big guy to do and those were the things for me.

There was this one trick he had me do where the young woman who helped him
would fall off a stand towards me as I held up a big sickle. As she fell
past me her neck would hit the blade and her head would come off. Then,
she’d show up whole again afterwards.

This trick worried me as I didn’t know how it was done. And, every time it
happened, it felt like she was hitting the blade and I was really cutting
her head off. This bothered me a lot.
But, I always saw her up and walking again afterwards, so she seemed OK.

So, I asked the magician how it was done as it did worry me.
“Oh, she’s a ghost,” he said. “She was really killed doing this trick and
haunts the sickle you’re holding. All I do is get her to repeat the event.
You feel it in the sickle as it is linked to the event.”

“That’s horrible!” I said to her as she stood there near us.
“What’s horrible is that because I’m dead he doesn’t even have to pay me!”
she said.
“You’re really a ghost?” I asked her. “You look alive to me.”
“Oh, I know how to put on the show,” she said. “But, I look like a ghost
if I’m not trying to look different.”
Her appearance changed to a pure white version of her. Exactly the same,
just no color only white.

“There are a lot of us around,” she said, and gave a very stage wave of her
arm.
Once she did, I saw the pure white people everywhere. Out in the audience.
Back stage. Walking around outside looking in the windows.
There was an old mirror backstage. As I looked in it I saw a moving figure
sweeping the floor that looked like and old black and white image. When I
looked to see where the reflection came from I saw a ghost doing the
sweeping wearing old fashioned clothes. The reflection looked different
than the ghost did.

“Why do you stay on stage?” I asked the assistant.
“Where else would I go?” she asked.
“If it was me, I’d want to stay in the library,” I said, pointing to the
library across the hall from the stage.
She walked over and lifted the window shade on the door to the library.
“Too crowded,” she said.
Looking in the window all I could see was white figures filling the space,
moving against each other front to back, side to side and top to bottom.
“Yeah, I see what you mean,” I said.

I left the theater and saw lots of the pure white folks around the city.
Dream ends

This was a very strange dream. The folks that were ghosts looked like
cartoons that hadn’t been colored.
I didn’t find them scary at all. Nor did they seem in any way aggressive,
angry or dangerous.

I did sickle fighting in the show Sunday. But, I have no idea where the
rest of this came from.