Good morning, everybody.
It was an electric grey day, with dark, low hanging clouds in the sky. I was out on a long, straight road in some residential neighborhood, possibly like Far Rockaway. The street was wide, with big, grassy medians running down it. I was heading to a beach at the end of this long street.
I walked along some sidewalk on the left side of the street. The sidewalk had scaffolding maybe seven or eight meters tall built over it like a tunnel. I wasn't quite in the tunnel of scaffolding, I think, even though I could see into it.
Hanging out in the scaffolding tunnel was a tall man with dark brown skin and frizzy, golden-red-brown hair done in small, fro-like spikes. The man wore a white adidas jacket with green stipes running down the sides of the sleeves.
The man had at first been laying in the scaffolding tunnel. But when he saw me he started, like he was going to harass me if I passed him. I decided to get as far away from the tunnel as I could. I crossed over to the right side of the street, on the other side of the grassy medians.
The man followed me. But I had managed to get moved across the street quickly while he was still getting up. So he was a good distance behind me. I thought that if I could just get to the beach I'd be safe.
But now I saw down the street, about two blocks away -- about two hundred meters away -- a man in a wheelchair. He was white, kind of overweight, and he had a bald crown with long, white hair on the sides and a long, white beard. He wore black clothes and black sunglasses. He may also have worn a vest or jacket that somehow indicated he'd been in the Vietnam War. He seemed to be using a motorized wheelchair.
The man at first seemed to be all by himself, just rolling around in his motorized wheelchair in the middle of the street. But then there was another person with him, someone who may have looked like the man who was following me.
I realized that perhaps that the man who was following me from behind was in league with the man in the wheelchair and his friend. Somehow news had been passed along that I was walking down this street. Now there were a bunch of guys out on the street, getting ready to follow me around. I was under suspicion of something by some group. So whenever I passed within range of that group, I would be followed by its members.
I managed to pass the man in the wheelchair easily. But the man in the white jacket was still following me. He seemed to be walking even more quickly now.
But I was much closer to the beach. The street ended in something like a culdesac. A short concrete path ran between the houses at the end of the culdesac. The beach was on the other side of that culdesac.
But the man seemed to be closing in on me. I thought he was planning to attack me on the concrete path, where fewer people could see me. So when I got to the concrete path, I actually ran across it, getting onto the beach as soon as I could.
Out on the beach, the clouds were even heavier. There was also a bit of a breeze. But there were also a decent amount of people out on the beach. It mostly seemed like mothers and their little daughters. They all seemed to be up at the back of the beach, instead of out near the water.
The man hurried out onto the beach. But when he saw the other people out there, he stopped running. He was standing right by a group of a couple of mothers and daughters. He didn't see me for a moment. He looked left and right.
I turned and stared directly at the man. I knew something about my stare would alert the mothers to the fact that I knew this guy was stalking me. The mothers took some sort of unspoken attitude toward the man. The man began to feel that he was in a bad environment for pursuing me. So he acted like he wasn't concerned with me. He turned off to the left and began walking away.
I turned off to the right and began walking in the other direction. It seemed like, in my direction, there were no people at all.
I was walking down a number of sidewalks in a suburban, but really busy, area. There were trees along a lot of curbs. I had the task of spitting on the trees. I had to spit on the trees right at their bases, where the root ground pushes above the ground. Something about my doing this would benefit the trees.
In some instances I got really close to the trees as I spat on them. This was just because the trees were close. But I wondered if spitting on the trees from so close was beneficial. I thought I might have to spit from farther away.
But later I was walking up some kind of slope. There were a lot of cars all around. It seemed to be late afternoon, in cool, grey-blue light, just after the sun had set. I was on the corner of some street with a parking lot for some small office complex.
On the corner of the block was a big tree. But the way the sidewalk and tree were set into the curb and relative to each other, I had no other choice but to spit on the tree from a far distance. I wondered if that would help the tree or be bad for it.
I also may have begun to wonder whether people would think I was being really gross and inappropriate for walking all over town, spitting on trees. I myself may have wondered whether I was really doing something good, or whether I had actually just decided at some point earlier on to be lewd by spitting on every tree I passed.
The face of a woman took up almost my entire field of view. The woman was young, with fair, white skin and brown hair. She had pale, blue eyes, which were open very wide.
Some man out of my view, either myself or some other man, spoke to the woman. I could hear the man's voice, but it was like I was hearing it through plugged up ears, like when I have a really bad head cold.
The man asked the woman if she thought that her getting a lobotomy was a good idea. The woman said, "Yes."