A couple nights ago I dreamed about a man, a scientist I think, who was being held against his will in a small town/village in northern Slovakia.

He was being forced by someone (government?) to do a certain job for them… a job only he was capable of. They had given him 4 stooges as assistants, betting on him complaining that he couldn’t get the job done with the men they had given him. This was a plan, and they had 4 other men, professional spies, waiting in casual settings to meet the scientist in his every day comings and goings, men that were qualified, that he would choose on his own.

When he complained about the stooges, his “handlers” gave him permission to choose new help. As planned, he chose the men that had been planted as spies. One was very tall and possibly Austrian??? One was short and muscular and seemed German to me. He was instructed to grow a beard before being “introduced” to the scientist.

The scientist trusted his new personally chosen helpers. This was also the plan. He was entirely set up. I knew his situation was very dangerous.

I also saw his setting/location. It was breathtakingly spectacular. Huge mountains loomed over the village to the east. The town was having a festival of some kind. I stood with the man (in spirit?) looking toward the village and toward the mountains. They were highest directly east and curved around him like a gigantic horseshoe on the horizon, tapering down on the North and South ends, with the road away leading to the West, over large rolling hills.

The mountains were grayish, with a red/orange hue of late Autumn on the lower parts, and gray, snow laced peaks at the top. The peaks would have been completely covered in clouds had not the day been perfectly clear. They were so high…

There didn’t seem to be many trees on the slopes… it was more “heathery” like… with some pines and fir like trees here and there.

I stood with him on a small stone bridge (I think it was stone) looking directly east at the mountains. The sun was behind me. He asked someone what was on the other side of the mountains. The answer was “Poland.” He didn’t know if he could trust the answer so later in the dream he asked a bystander in the festival the same question. “Poland” was the consistent reply.

Beside the bridge’s edge was a tree with orange/red leaves… Either an oak or a maple, I think. The leaves had turned, and most of them had fallen to the ground around the tree. Down below the man, in the ditch, another tree of the same type grew. It had been sheltered from the frost by the banks of the ditch. It’s leaves were bright yellow/orange but had not yet fallen. I noted that this was a very specific time of year… the week in which the leaves fall to the ground.

The group of men wanted to have their picture taken all together as “the team”. The scientist declined… not wanting to have his photo taken, proving his involvement. Someone tried to take a picture of him anyway, but the sun was right behind him, as his back was to the west.

He asked another person, furtively “If someone needed to escape from here what would be the best way to go?”

“Over those mountains and into Poland on the other side.” Came the answer.

I looked at the trees again and thought: He has to leave now; the snows are coming and there will be no way over in just a week or two.

I awoke.

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We prayed for the man to make it over the mountains… whoever he might be.

I looked at Google earth yesterday and was surprised (I know, duh) to find the Tatras on the northern border of Slovakia, separating it from Poland. The border runs along the top of the Tatras. There are a couple villages in horseshoe shaped “valleys” that point east. So that if you climbed directly east over the mountains you would be in Poland. I looked at photos that had been taken of the area. The mountains looked exactly like they had in my dream. So different from the Rockies and the Smokies… and so huge! It was eerie looking at this place that I had previously known NOTHING about and had never been there before… and yet it felt like I had. So familiar.

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