Dreamed I was visiting a mental asylum, perhaps as part of a journalistic endeavor. The patients were using an indoor track for exercise. I waited at the side. As the patients ran by I started to realize that some looked familiar to me – it was as if I was recognizing them, but I knew not from where. Some gave me a look of recognizing me as well – a slighty heavy-framed blonde woman, a guy, a few others all my age. Also, as they were running and I was waiting, I was playing with the space between my hands – I put my hands near each other, and in the space between, softly at first and then brighter, 3 dimensional geometric shapes were being pulled into existence – 3 dimensional images made of light. I was at once fascinated and terribly nervous because I saw the patients recognition of this skill, and I knew that this meant that I was “crazy” too.
The scene shifted and I was asking my mother how I recognized these folks at the asylum. She told me that she’d produced a medical magazine decades ago and that I must have seen their pictures in the magazine as she was working on it. I asked her when this was, and instead of answering, there was silence – as if this had been a lie and there was no more information available to make the lie more believable. It was not true.
Then I was in a dark room, a large room, with an interior balcony. I, and a few other people, were on the main floor. I was trying to build another geometric shape with my hands, but perhaps because it was dark, or perhaps because I was tired or unfocused, I was not getting a small red geometric shape between my palms like I wanted. Instead, a large blue bubble was made, larger than my hands, extended like a bubblegum bubble to a foot in diameter — still very pale and hard to see, but there. Then it popped, and a flash of light burst out of my left hand like the flash from a camera – stunning a person in the balcony. The person in the balcony was Whitley Strieber! I worried for a moment about startling an older man, but he didn’t have a heart attack, and there were a couple other people next to him – his wife I presume, and someone else – so they were able to make light of it and everything was fine.
There were other moments where I had a chance to talk more to the patients – who I keep wanting to call “students” as I type this – but I do not recall much except being near the blonde woman. I felt like I’d known them since my twenties.