I was very close friend a with Michael Jackson. I spent a weekend with him indulging in the finer things. While I was at his house I had learned about some secret documents he had. Two papers in particular. I was prompted by some press to give them the in to these documents. He was Living in very gross hoarder-like conditions. His never land ranch had already been take away from him, and he was living in a small and modest home in North Louisiana.
I would be leaving soon, and I met with a woman who would have me expose him. He was getting ready to go on tour or something along those lines. He didn't realize that he had left these two documents out. He left. Then me and another gentleman went back into his house found the paper, and I took pictures of them with my cell phone. As we were sneaking in there was a police car out side of the house with its blue and red light on spinning in the front yard, as it pulled in from the street, but it didn't see us.
It seemed like Michael and I were sexually involved to some degree, and that these paper would expose him in that way somehow. After I obtained the files this woman who was thin pretty and dark headed picked me up. I knew she worked for some type of government entity. I was afraid for myself because I had been using drugs, and she knew that. Either way, she was friendly, and thanked me for my help in the case.
I went back to Michael's house the next time he was there, and the media had already taken their toll on him. I remember that I couldn't look him in the eye, but I wasn't sure if he knew that I had anything to do with leaked information. The man who was with me the night that I copied the documents was there before I got there. We had betrayed him.
My time with him was over and I was on my way home with my Mother. I wasn't sure if she had known what I'd done.
Traveling home we came to a fork in the road, she told me that I was headed the wrong direction, and unless I turned around I would be headed to Arkansas. I was driving a vehicle with a trailer on the back of it. There were other people in the street at the fork: people bringing there kids to college for the first time. This led me to believe I was in Ruston.
My mom began to tell me a story that resembled much of what had just happened with Michael Jackson. She told me this as the dream changed scenes. Her narration became what I saw. She explained to me that back in the 80's something pretty nasty went down between my family, intermediate and extended, were audited along with a big oil mogul and the Haynes family for some pretty shady activity. The details were never divulged.
She handed me a maroon folder with gold embossed lettering on it that contained all of the secret that she spoke of.
I could see a curio cabinet or shadow box in the vision of the narration that belonged to my grandmother. It had many memorable items of real life. It was on a lazy Suzanne type of turn style, and could be kept behind glass. At this point of the dream the two narratives of what happened with Michael Jackson and the latter with my family seem to become blended and confused .
Towards the end of the dream my mother and I are talking, and she is ending this epic tale and secret. She goes on to say that I should read the information for myself, and that since I held nothing against the family in ignorance that I shouldn't let what I'm about to find out change my perspective.
I woke to the following on the radio: Novelletta Composer: Giuseppe Martucci, Conductor: Francesco d'Avalos
I feel as though many of the details have been removed from my mind upon waking and writing.
