Morning of April 29, 2014. Tuesday.

I am in an unknown region of what may be Waukon, Iowa (this is loosely connected to the other dream about clearing the yard, but not a direct extension, I do not think). It is mostly farmland and I seem to be going north, though it is not certain due to the somewhat unfamiliar nature of the landscapes. This, though, seems to have a vague link to the “Muffler Man and Long Horn Steer” attraction. (See Link) It was supposedly manufactured where my father was born, which I did not know until today. (My dreams do this all the time, that is, reveal completely unknown, even otherwise “unknowable”, information, which I usually leave out of my entries to keep them a little less convoluted, as they are usually convoluted enough already.)

I eventually go into a recurring type of dream state where I am wandering down old back roads; this time in my “orb” form and sometimes in my physical form, depending on the steepness of the hill. I end up at an old farm, which would otherwise be an urban area in reality, I believe. The “long horn steer statue” is actually a living minotaur. The imposing creature is about two feet taller than me, at least, and has a muscular body and a huge head. At least three farmers (who are dressed more as 1940s radio cowboys than farmers) have a hold of him with ropes connected to a large collar as they lead him out of an enclosed area that looks like a composite of an open or half-built barn and a covered picnic area of a park. Other farmers stand around. There is a cow pasture and an area where horses are kept, as well as a cornfield. It is a fairly large area all connected to the same people who seem to share the work and profits.

It seems the farmers are suspicious of me and my visible ethnicity (as was often the case in real life). And of course, they think I am part Asian. However, I tell them that I am American and that I can help them with some sort of magic power that I seem to have at this stage. The minotaur huffs and puffs dramatically, and moves it legs up and down in a sort of “ready to charge” manner, looking a bit silly, like jogging in place. I boldly pet it and move my hand over its huge nose and face in a loving way. It is almost like petting a giant dog’s head and it is right down close to my face as it bends down. It seems to calm down a bit and the men are surprised. It seems the men keep the minotaur as a “pet” to bring “good luck” to their farm and to keep the livestock and crops healthy.

I tell them that I will do all I can to keep the farm in its best state. When I go towards another area where there are horses, I actually hear the minotaur talking to the men in a gruff human voice in a nearly poetic rhythm, “when the crops and livestock are healthiest and the farm is whole again, I will kill the witch" (meaning he, the minotaur, intends to kill me). I am not sure if this is solely out of some sort of jealously on the part of the minotaur (though you would think he would be annoyed at being treated and kept as just a pet and “good luck charm”) or because they (the farmers) do not want to pay me for my “work” (I do not remember what payment was agreed upon).

Instead of doing an in-dream augmented focus and routine of sorts to bring a blessing over the farm, I move my hands in a manner that lifts the group (including the minotaur) into a whirlwind that results in crashing them down into the ground and destroying them. I then lift the horses into the air from a distance and release them into a different farm’s field, although the cows are let out into the road and race along, mooing over their new-found freedom. One man riding a horse (not with the other group) ends up “sitting in mid-air” in a comical manner (appearing as one would on a bucking bronco, but with nothing underneath him) when the horse is instantly shifted out from under him to join the others.

The cornfield seems to remain healthy and will feed or help the other local farmers who had lost money to some sort of government scandal.

I then somehow make large embossed-like indentations in a barn’s roof (almost like footprints made by an invisible foot and rather nosily) of various symbolic forms of master number twenty-two (including the fleur-de-lys, the “kissing swans”, the “medicine bag”, and the “heart on the horizon”).