I dreamed that I was running a long, hard race. I was coming to the end and was among the first ones to finish.
We walked up these stairs on an old building (revolution Boston days) and I came to a place where the officials were.
They stood with me out on the balcony and they were to tattoo my right palm.
They poured oil in my palm, and I could see a map of a prior tattoo on my palm. The lady would trace over my part, which would be my tattoo.
They told me to drink something because it would hurt, but I refused. It didn’t hurt. I watched her etch in my sections.