Dream Diary #6

I had several remarkable and disturbing dreams last night, unfortunately the chief of which involved my personal head canon about my character Striker in Finding Oblivion. Don't get me wrong, it was one of my favorite dreams, but writing about it might spill some potential spoilers about the screen play. With that said, I'm going to write about my other favorite dream from last night.

For whatever reason, my friends and I had decided to cross the Willamette River farther south than the three known bridges in Salem. We'd heard of a recently constructed "living bridge." None of us were sure what that meant.  If the living bridge could handle cars, it would certainly solve a notorious traffic problem Salem has. After all, the city only has two vehicle bridges connecting its east and west sides, with one way traffic on both. They also transformed a railroad bridge into a pedestrian bridge, but my friends and I decided we'd rather try the new living bridge instead.

We also decided to take a canoe downriver instead of trying to find the bridge from the embankment. As my friend rowed for us, we noticed giant cages of animals jutting out over the river from the east side. Apparently Riverfront Park had recently added a zoo to its attractions. Part of me wanted to get out of the canoe and get a closer look, yet at the same time the rest of me knew that those flimsy cages might not hold. And they hadn't keep all of the animals inside.

Something bumped against our canoe, rocking it violently to the left. It rolled over, dumping us in the water. I screamed as I saw a giant green snake wrap itself around one of my friends as its jaws went for his neck. My other friend and I left him to wrestle with the snake, for we saw the vines stretching across the river in a living bridge.

Recently it had fallen into disrepair, so we managed to ascend it in the middle of the river, climbing it to the west bank. It was like one of those rickety bridges you'd find in a jungle movie. At the top of the west bank, we found brush as tall as most one story buildings, and we wondered what we'd find on the other side. My friend pulled out a tourist guide, describing the primal community living within.

On cue, one such person came up the dirt path to greet us at the gate. By greet, I mean he gave me a rather long scrutinizing once over. This was made more awkward by the fact that I recognized him, even in his scanty, plant based clothes. He looked like some replica of Peter Pan, but I could tell this was a former trumpet player from my marching band in high school. I wondered if the other trumpet players would be inside the jungle community, and if they would look as good in nothing but brush and leaves.