When I was a Senior Photo Editor a major publisher I worked at in the early 90’s, I was working on a book about evolutionary anthropology. One of the chapters in that book was about forensic anthropology. I was responsible for putting all the photos in the book. One of the authors had called me and told me that I was to be getting a photo from a friend of his that was in that field. (Those photos are rare, so we were glad to get a shot of a Doctor doing a forensic autopsy.) About a week later, I had a dream that I was a young teenage girl in the 70’s. Not me, I wasn't myself in this dream, but another girl. This girl looked like Marsha Brady sorta’. In my dream, I dreamed that I was this girl, and it was about 1971. I was very angry in the dream, as my stepfather in this dream had raped me. (THIS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME IN REAL LIFE, p.s. I've never even had a stepfather, my Dad was a great guy, and I have never been to Arizona.) In this dream, I just came into this girl’s life at the moment, when she was trashing their house. In my dream, as this girl, I like…just took a fire iron to the whole house, smashing lamps, windows, over turning furniture. (I had never seen this house before in my life, but in this dream, it was my "home".) At the end of this trashing, I took green spray paint, and spray-painted, “DAD RAPED ME” right across the brown plaid couch and across the painting and the wall above in huge letters. Then I, as the girl, took three large shards of glass from the the windows I had broken, and jammed them into the wall through the lettering. Then my dream “Popped” to me driving across the desert in my flower power VW bug, (I'm a rabid Opel GT driver, never have had a VW bug), smoking a cigarette out of the open car window, (I've never smoked), long straight blonde 1970's hair waving in the breeze. In the desert, there was nothing around me but…the desert. The desert and me. And the car. All of a sudden, I stopped the car. In the middle of the road, there was a body of a dead man, who was nude, and missing his right hand. He was fat, bald, and middle aged. He was burned and blackened on the asphalt. He looked, well, barbequed! (Sorry.) Then the dream zoomed skyward, looking down at the Marsha chick that I had been for a moment in a dream standing between her VW bug and this body in the middle of the highway in the middle of the desert near California. I instantly woke up at this horror. I had this dream right before I woke up. I got to work that morning about an hour and a half later. When I got settled in at the office, and got my coffee, etc., I began going through my “In” box, going through my yesterday’s mail, when I discovered a largish brown envelope from a University in the Southwest. I thought it was kind of weird, because it had a skull and cross bones symbol stamped on the label. I opened, and instantly dropped the package. The photo inside the envelope was of the barbequed dude from my dream. Missing hand and all! However, he was lying on the forensic anthropologist's table. I was so freaked out; I instantly hand wrote out a photo transmittal with shaking hands, took it to my friend John, the text editor, and said, “Get this freaky thing OUT of my office!” Then I went back to my office and had to have a sit down for a few minutes. Freaky…no?