I dreamed ...
Over all of the dream was the sense that I was going to be late for high school, and that 8 AM was looming.
I decided to run away to a small wooden cabin in the woods. In the dream the cabin was somewhere in the woods on the hill where my folks live. An angel had lived in the cabin, but he had left many years ago. He had been a seven foot tall dark man -- I'm not sure if he was African or not, because he spoke with an Irish accent. All he left behind was his large dark cloak. It was of some thin black material, and it was more like a duster or a cassock with a hood.
I got into his cabin. At one point Mark might have been there with me, but I"m not sure. The cabin was cold. I had brought some supplies, but I was still kind of cold, so I wrapped myself up in the angel's large dark cloak. My dream point of view shifted and I watched myself from above looking down at myself, my white hands drawing the dark material around myself like a pea pod.
I dreamed in the angel's cloak, and I was reliving his life. I was eating a soup or thin stew. All I saw was a white porcelain bowl, a large spoon, and the broth. I was in the point of view of an angry, slightly drunk father; I saw the meal through his eyes and heard the conversation through his ears. I was eating with my sons, thirteen and fifteen.
We had a dysfunctional conversation, (in an Irish or Scottish accent) which involved the father (me) warning the sons about slutty girls, the older son weaselly not-accusing the younger son of hanging out with one, and the younger son (who would become the angel) whining that his friend wasn't like that at all. The father (me) was getting angrier and angrier, and the part of me having the dream in the angel's cloak saw that the older son was baiting the younger son into a beating from their father. During all of this, I was eating the broth and hearing the conversation like a radio play.
I think I woke up in the angel's cabin and the dream went on to other things...