Morning of October 1, 1988. Saturday.

In my dream, I am soon a witness to a sudden event that relates to a factory where my brother-in-law Bob works (though I am not directly involved in my dream’s situation even though I am “physically in it” with a normal perspective). There is a brisk sense of urgency. (I remain outside the factory at all times though am still able to sense that an accident had just happened inside the building). I remain standing outside the factory (which may or may not be a distortion of the one he works at in real life) near the street, and it does seem to be in La Crosse (possibly farther south of where he works in real life).

There is no fear but there is a well-defined sense of awe. At least two interns or ambulance personnel rush into the factory. Soon, I see my brother-in-law lying in a cloth stretcher, being quickly carried away down the street (I assume to the ambulance) by the young males in mostly white - once they approach to near where I am standing they run from my right and past my left, seemingly in a southern direction. The stretcher is almost bag-like (there being no wheels or support underneath or anything). He is on his back. I notice that only the right side of his body is visible as if the left side was somehow removed. There is no blood or gore; I see only half of his body on the stretcher. However, he (at least the one-half) is somehow still alive. The stride of the young males (who are still running) is somewhat exaggerated but not quite cartoon-like. It does not occur to me or give concern as to where his other half is.

My dream, or perhaps a section of a forgotten longer dream, only seems to last a few seconds but is very vivid.

This dream is probably an augmented exaggeration of my brother-in-law’s illiteracy and very low IQ (in being only “half there”). However, it may also be a play on “cutting him down to size” due to his being very large and somewhat bullying at times (not in a serious or problematic sense - just with a somewhat odd and highly annoying patronizing attitude for the most part, as if not being able to read was somehow better than being “distracted” by the ability to read).