A Snake in the Grass

I woke up just moments ago as I write this first sentence. It's H03:15:59, as I glance up at the clock display on Ubuntu. (My OS) I just had a dream that left me deeply mystified; which, after a year of deeply lucid dreaming, is saying something.

There was a dream already going on, and I don't remember it until this point;
Apparently, I was sitting in the apartment of a friend I knew in high school; I know his name, and we'll just say his last name is Petersen; and I haven't seen this person or talked to them in, oh, maybe 5 years... maybe less... not quite sure. He was sitting in front of a Macintosh, doing something that looked like schoolwork; and I was just kind of talking to him from a chair behind him.
Apparently, he was a student at a college, and I was visiting... and I asked him,'So, what's new happening around here?'
and he said, looking shocked, 'Haven't you heard about the murders?'
and I gave a sheepish smile and said, 'No... I've been sorta on my own for quite some time.'

The scene transitioned here, astonishingly purposefully... like in a movie;
I exited a vehicle; I was out somewhere that looked very much like Africa; the climate was warm and the plants and trees looked so to suit... and then I approached a scene... where a young African man about my age was standing, viewing two corpses laying on top of each other on the ground. There was no blood. There was a grown man, laying face down in the warm sand; slightly on top of his lower legs, a child lay, also face down... and on top of them both; a snake, lay dead, with it's belly to the noonday sun. I felt very sad as I gazed down at them.

I asked the young man, "What happened here?"
and he replied, "Someone finally understood the poem...

One Dead
First Day
Two Dead
A day past
Three Dead
Third Day
A snake, in the grass"

He said it with a purposeful rhythm, and it sounded very much, now that I think of it, like a riddle.
I then opened the right rear door of the vehicle, and sat down in the seat there... I noticed there was a rather nervous looking Chow Chow, (a Chinese dog breed), who I pet a bit, to try and comfort, (apparently he was waiting for his master...)
The outside scene transitioned here, and I did not notice it very much, as the immediate surroundings stayed exactly the same, as the bodies and the young African man stayed in their same spot, even the tropical bush that was nearby...but then I was sitting in the parked vehicle, facing East, (still a summer feeling, at noonday) in a sandy parking lot of a restaurant in my hometown... (It's called the Rocking V, but that didn't cross my mind...) It was just more of a large sandy shoulder, the restaurant was a ways to the left, which is part of a small boardwalk that faces North.
I rolled down the window of the car, which I recognized as my family's dark green Suburu, only seeing the black interior. I pensively gazed at the tragic scene to my right (South), as did the young African man... I became very lucid at this point in a sense, and realized this was one of the most poetic dreams I've ever had;
I then turned to the young man, and said,
'It's horribly beautiful.' and he said something like,
'I agree, a perfect rendition of that dark poem.'
We pondered a bit, both mystified at the scene before us... and I said to him,
'You know... all this... it feels like this is quietly full of virulent memetics.' (but my meaning behind virulent, merely meant infective, without any negative aspects that usually come with the word.)
'Virulent Memetics?' He asked... and then as I began explaining he got in the drivers seat and I moved up to the passenger side; the dog behind us was whimpering a bit; (I guess neither one of us were his owners)
I spoke as the car was backing out and then driving to the North.
'Yeah,' I said, 'I guess what I mean is... the ideas behind this are very memetic, which means it has a quality of capability to trap and contain that quiet energy and emotion it evokes, and has a capability to reproduce it on an exponential scale...'
'Interesting,' He said. 'What do you mean.'
'Well, I guess I mean is it very subtly evokes an emotion, that evokes emotion, upon emotion, upon emotion...'
'...upon emotion upon emotion...' he chorused with me.
'Yeah, that's it.' I said.
He chuckled, I laughed too... the idea was fun for the both of us.

I became less lucid at this point, I became less aware that it was a dream... yet my freedom of spirit was entirely intact.
I then looked where we were driving... and it was my hometown, yet it was vastly more surreal, chillingly beautiful, as if a great artist had repainted the whole place, in the way it always should have been...
He said, after we both had laughed... 'well, after explaining that to me, you and I both deserve some tea.' I smiled... (I think he understood that beside my wordy explanation, honestly, I really only get my more basic emotion upon emotion grasp of it.)
So we exited and entered a beautiful little cafe, -which does not exist in my hometown... and I grabbed a piece of paper, and we sat down to a table, waiting for tea...
and I asked him what his name was, he said, Phillip Loelier, and wrote it on the page... We both wanted to remain in contact with each other, so I suggested to exchange phone numbers, he agreed.... (and I saw a phone number appear on the page, with only ten digits, no area codes), so I felt like it wouldn't work very well for me... and so I said, 'Well, is it alright if you just gave me your email address? How's that?'
He seemed like he was alright with that...
I looked down at the paper, it showed his email address at a '@coesc.edu' I think, but then it faded as the page became magically full of written email addresses.
I asked him, [not really concerned about this for some reason, only mildly... (haha)]... 'What should I write down?'
'...just write down anything...' He said resignedly,
So I started copying an email address already written... which was very symbolically cryptic, in a mildly creepy way... I brushed it aside, and realized this was in no way his email address... and so I began looking around the restaurant, leaving him at the table... apparently looking for a paper with his email address on it, (the one I had seen before)...

and then I woke up.

O.o
.

Looked at my phone, it was 2:50 a.m. -feeling mystified.
I realized the poem was a riddle in a sense, and a rather clever one at that. I became very astonished at it, as nothing so very coherent has ever come from one of my dreams. Tried going back to sleep, and was afraid I'd forget this dream, as it felt more purposeful in its playing out than others... and so I got up, relieved myself, came downstairs, typed it up...
Tried googling the name... nothing comes up really.... googled 'coesc.edu'... nothing... googled the poem... no match...

Hmmm... as usual, when I try googling things from my dream... haha... but...
I have this eerie feeling I've heard this riddle/poem before...
and I'm disappointed I can't email my dream buddy, he seemed so cool.

2008.Wed.01.02|:02:50:00 ©c.t.carter -well I guess I better slap the ol' copyright on there, just to keep the riddle safe... I must admit, again sheepishly, that I don't feel like I truly can take credit for it, as it came from Phillip, yet he seemed to be quoting it from somewhere else... but legally I suppose it's a good idea, as it came from my subconscious...
again... I honestly don't feel like it was really me that came up with that mysterious and somewhat creepy little riddle.