Nine years ago I had a dream I recounted in my journal. The details are as follows:
I am driving in San Francisco. There is a National Guardsman in the passenger seat. I seem to know him, so he is probably a friend from my unit. Though the sky is clear and bright, for some reason the Guardsman pushes buttons on a dashboard console that turns on the windshield defroster. I slow down the car to a crawl, since I am blinded temporarily by the fog on the windshield. The fog takes on a reddish color that looks toxic and otherworldly. I stop the car completely in the middle of an intersection.
When the fog finally evaporates, I see that I am in the midst of oncoming traffic. I put on the accelerator just in time to avoid a crash, and I cross the intersection. I enter into a vast construction yard. I see a skyscraper up ahead still being built, and I drive into the space that will be the lobby when it is completed.
I look up through the car sunroof. There is an endless reach of steel beams that together form the skeletal infrastructure of the building. The top of this skeleton is lost in the sky far above me.
I creep forward in my car and approach two downward slopes. I know that one of them will lead into a mine shaft, but I do not know which. I know that I must avoid the mine shaft, for if anyone drives down that one he is literally consumed with manure and dies.
I idle my car in front of the two downward slopes. I open a window, and wave over one of the construction workers. He confirms my suspicion about the mine shaft, and as we are talking the manure encrusted corpse of a man who had made the wrong decision is now being pulled up from that slope.