postcards

something taken and falling into hole

2012-01-20T13:25:00.002+10:00

I walked home from the shop having bought some nuts. I placed them in a bowl and set the bowl aside while I briefly climbed the stairs to my apartment, which was very much like a treehouse. Upon returning, the nuts had been eaten and I knew who had eaten them. I thought about what to do and decided to get some money from my wallet and give it to the girl who had eaten my nuts, so she could walk to the shop and buy some more for me. Although I was a little angry, and now that the nuts were gone, I thought this may resolve the matter without unnecessary drama, and may teach the girl the value of not taking what was not given to her. Coins in hand, I went to speak with the girl, but a giant pile of bark mulch with a cavernous hole in the centre of the pile stood between me and the girl. I somehow gravitated to the pile and fell down the hole, perhaps twenty feet into the dug-out earth. I was terrified as I knew at any moment the mulch could fall into the hole and bury me alive. I called to the girl and begged her to get help and fast. Moments later some circus performers appeared at the mouth of the hole and one, a man I know, tied a rope around his torso and somersaulted into the hole, tethered me to him, and the other performers pulled us out. I was grateful to be saved, thanks to the performers and the girl.

mistrust

2011-12-28T10:39:00.000+10:00

I was with two people - one, a close friend, the other, a woman I have recently befriended. The woman led us into her nursery, a kind of greenhouse full of shade plants, cool and inviting. I felt, however, cautious and stayed by the door, on guard and ready to retreat. The woman moved a few pots and pointed out her hothouse flowers. Long tendrils curled out and gripped the stems of other plants; the air was damp and sweet. I looked about anxiously, fearing snakes were hiding amidst the green. And then I saw one: a pale grey snake with large chocolate eyes - quite beautiful, really - lying quietly on a table between the plants. The woman saw it and, instead of removing it calmly or leaving it be, grabbed it by the neck, held its face to hers and started hissing at it. Initially placid, the snake became increasingly agitated until it opened its jaws wide and hissed back at the woman, furious. I didn't go, but watched horrified, realising I did not trust this woman.

psychic energy

2011-12-28T10:22:00.002+10:00

An argument. A woman stood perhaps fifty feet away, near an old grey wooden fence. She yelled at me and I felt incensed; I felt righteous and justified. Instead of words, I hurled my intention at her and, instantly, a ceramic plate that had been leaning against the fence smashed into pieces. She was alarmed and continued to rant, and I was surprised at the power of energy. Pleased, I again directed my anger into thought and sent it her way, another plate cracking down the middle, pieces falling to the ground.

passing through danger

2011-12-28T10:15:00.000+10:00

I was driving a sturdy white van down a steep mountain. The winding road narrowed as I traced the cliff's edge, until the road became a snaking path, barely wide enough to allow passage. The path twisted and kinked around sharp rocks and the traffic slowed to walking pace; some cars turned back. Two people appeared - a man and a woman - at the most perilous point, carefully directing people around a hairpin bend. I drove tentatively onward, listening to the instructions and following them carefully. As I passed the man, I looked in his eyes and thanked him. Again, as I passed the woman, I made eye contact and thanked her. In both their eyes, I saw light reflected and something more - spirit, energy, soul.

shark

2011-12-09T19:16:00.001+10:00

I was walking on the shore of a shallow sea and my brother was swimming, not too far out. I saw a fin curve through the blue, and then another. I called out, hopeful that he could hear me; hopeful they were dolphin. He swam back toward the shore as more and more black fins appeared. I saw that they were sharks and one rushed at him as he climbed out of the water and stepped onto the shore. I screamed and he turned in time to wrestle it, casting it back into the sea. He was alright, but his hands and arms were cut from the sharp teeth of the shark.

bus crash

2011-12-07T13:11:00.001+10:00

I was in a bus, sitting in the middle of the back seat at the end of the aisle. There were only about six people on board, sitting alone in various seats. A young man of about eighteen also sat on the back seat, on my right, looking out the window. The bus driver steered the bus around golden cliffs - the road curving and precarious - and, as we entered a canyon, the driver sped up, driving too fast and too recklessly. We drove off the road and across the rocks, the bus bouncing and out of control. We hit a rock and the bus spun around, now airborne and sailing down a cavern, tail first. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The bus was certain to crash and, being in the back, we would receive maximum impact. I looked out the back window and saw the rocks, closer and closer. I said and prayer and thought of my family. The boy turned from the window and looked at me, his blue eyes frightened. I had time to take his hand.

rising up

2011-12-01T12:47:00.001+10:00

Two dreams:
I was rising in the air, flying or floating upward, away from the Earth, towards the stars and planets. I experienced a knowledge that I was about to disperse, the atoms of my body and the energy that makes up me were about to scatter and converge with the energy of the universe. Still rising, and regretfully, I remembered the many things I had to complete, the things I had to do, and so I turned and headed back to Earth.
I was in the back yard, clearing green rubbish, banana leaves and such things, with the help of a couple of others. It crossed my mind there may be a snake hidden in the waste pile, but we continued gathering armfuls of debris. One of my friends walked quickly to the bottom of the yard and threw something long over the fence - a brown snake. I was amazed at her calm. Another snake, a giant python, came out of the pile and weaved its way across the yard. My friends retreated and I, instead, floated upward, above the scene. I was aware of the concentration required to remain in the air, knowing that if I ceased to believe, I would fall down into the yard with the snakes.

music in the rain

2011-11-18T10:55:00.000+10:00

I was in the suburb of my childhood, staying in the house of a friend. The garden sloped away from the house, merging with a park. In the early morning I went outside in the rain to brush my teeth at the tap. The man next door was in his garden, eyes closed, playing a violin. I leaned into a shrub, hoping to remain unseen, so as to listen. I could only just hear the beautiful music over the rain and I realised this was why he was out here: playing his violin, the sound masked by rainfall, so as not to disturb his wife or the neighbours. I felt both joy and sadness, witnessing an old man delight in his passion, but having to be so discreet.

theatre and grandmother

2011-10-11T10:35:00.000+10:00

I entered a theatre and found a seat towards the back. The worn russet leather chairs had wooden arms and fold-down seats, like those in old cinemas. The theatre appeared to have capacity for three hundred or so people and it was near full. We excitedly waited for the show to begin. I was there alone. The curtain was raised and three women appeared on stage, singing an electric, almost eccentric, song with great mastery. My dear friend was one of the performers and, I realised, I had come this night to watch her perform. While they sang, the audience began to leave. At first, I was appalled, but it became apparent that the audience had already seen the matinee performance, that they were lingering in the theatre and the night-time show had started too early. The curtain was lowered and the show stopped. Soon the theatre was almost cleared. I took the opportunity to search for a better seat, closer to the front, so that I would have a clear view of my friend. A new audience began to fill theatre and, among them, my grandmother sat down next to me. I was overjoyed and yet perplexed, as I have not seen her since her death some years ago. I felt somewhat neglectful, as though I had forgotten her and not visited her for years. She was wearing a mustard jumper and had a few bags about her. Together, we waited for the show to begin again. It started and, while my eyes were on my friend on stage, my grandmother disappeared. I turned around to glance at her, but she'd gone. Worried, I crept out of the theatre, sorry to miss the performance, to find her. She was in the foyer, sorting through her bags, preparing to go home. All kinds of personal items were strewn across a table. I helped her sort out her washing, including two blue towels, and repack her other bags. I noticed that the contents of her handbag were lying on another table nearby, and I took particular note of the bright red lipstick in a gold case - Chanel No 13.

lost friend

2011-09-09T10:53:00.000+10:00

I was dressing for a night out, but I was tired and late. I sat - half-dressed - and hurriedly ate a meal, knowing I would be even later. My friend rang to find out where I was; I could somehow see her waiting, standing on a hill, dressed in dark red, the wind blowing her hair. We arranged to meet here instead and, even so, I knew I hadn't enough time. Sure enough, she arrived at the front door well before I was ready - a glamorous figure. We hugged and she looked into my face; she could see that I was tired. I finished dressing, though not well; my clothes were ill-fitting and drab. I had no time to shower or groom, and we left. Arriving at a large concert hall, we were ushered to our seats toward the front of the theatre. Once seated, the usher returned and pointed out a better vantage - seats up toward the back. My friend followed the usher to inspect the seats, while I minded our spot. I lost sight of my friend int he crowd and, knowing the show was soon to start, I went to find her. I couldn't see her anywhere but heard that she was in the foyer, talking with friends. I thought it best to sit down as the curtains were opening. I shuffled through the legs of the seated audience until I reached the two vacant seats, still distracted by the absence of my friend. I was not at all comfortable; in fact, the seat had now elevated so that I was blocking the view of the person behind. I tried to lower it, disrupting the people around me. A couple of people moved and I was somewhat embarrassed. The show began and it was awful: bad acting, dreadful singing and of terrible taste. Someone came to tell me that there had been an accident in the foyer, so - relieved that I could abandon the show - I raced out, thinking my friend had fallen or some such thing.
There had been an accident at sea. I peered out to the horizon and could see ships bottom up and sinking. Ships nose-down, black in a grey ocean. The water had risen and my friend was swept away. She and the others in the foyer were now dragged by a swift current south. About seven people were struggling to stay afloat, powerless against the pull as they rushed through the water, desperately grabbing at anything to aide their plight. I ran along the shore, following them, my friend ever in view. I shouted to her, words of encouragement to buoy her. I followed for miles, running apace, keeping track of her. I thought she was lost.

clumsy and floating

2011-06-24T11:34:00.000+10:00

At the back door, trying to get in. Locked. I walk around to the sliding glass door; also locked. Back to the back door. If I simply push it ... Yes. I didn't realise that it was this easy to get in. I'll have to look at fixing that. Walk through the back room, which is filled with all kinds of bric-a-brac - vases, books, bowls, sculptures, kitchen utensils and more. I bump a metal bowl filled with flour. It spills onto the floor and I crouch, scooping the flour back into the bowl. There's blue fluff in it. I pick out the fluff, cleaning the flour so as not to waste it. Walk into the central room of the house; the living room. My mother is there. I knock something else and it falls to the ground. I right it and wonder why I am so clumsy today. In fact, I am feeling strange. I tell my mother and sit down in a wooden chair. I feel light headed, giddy, as though I am no longer contained within my body. I levitate - still sitting on the chair - and float around the room. My mother is surprised and looks at me with wonder. As I float over a high cupboard, I see some plants, which are in pots sitting on the cupboard, on fire. Smoke drifts across the room. The leaves are too close to the ceiling and I rearrange them, extinguishing the flames.

my brother sings

2011-06-23T11:47:00.000+10:00

I was in a room with many other people - perhaps a library, perhaps a church. I could see my brother standing with two other men around his age and an older man who was a musician and producer of some note. The older man held some kind of recording device and played a few chords of music, asking the younger men to sing. First one man sang, his voice gentle and high, the melody dancing around the chords, then the second man joined him, his voice similarly sweet and high. Then, as directed, the two men stopped and my brother began to sing, his voice deeper and sadder. From his body, as he sang, came a palpable vibration that resonated throughout the room. People who had been talking ceased talking and sat in silence. A few of us - my mother, sister and father - drew close to my brother, placing our hands gently on his back, feeling the vibration and supporting him. The older man recorded his voice, the vibration, and knew he had found something unique.

moving through air

2011-06-23T11:29:00.000+10:00

I was one of four performers playing to a large crowd of people in a vast auditorium. The audience was arranged around the stage, looking down on us - some sitting, some standing. The performers were paired. My partner gripped my hands and spun me around in a circle so that I was flying through the air, almost vertically. I could see the other pair similarly moving, one partner anchored to the ground, spinning the other partner around and around, and, as she flew through the air, she stretched, arched and moved her body, creating a beautiful aerial dance. The other performers were all wearing blue leotards with sequins, appropriately dressed for the show. It seemed I was unprepared and unrehearsed for, as I spun around, I realised that I was wearing a flannelette shirt, grey tracksuit pants and ugg boots and I did not know the choreography. Suddenly, the other pair left the stage, leaving us alone. All eyes were upon us and I needed to do something worthy of watching. I began to move my legs and arch my back, feeling muscles that have long been unused, remembering steps from early dancing days. Though I felt stiff, ill-attired and put on the spot, I danced through the air and, as I spun, my body felt fluid, grew lithe, moved effortlessly.

gatecrashers

2011-06-23T11:07:00.000+10:00

We were in the back yard of the home where one of my closest friends lived when she was a child. It was night and everything seemed chaotic, dangerous. Too many people milled around - in the yard, throughout the house - as though the party had been gatecrashed. We were tense, sensing violence, and decided to leave. Five of us piled into my small car, which was parked in the front yard, with B behind the wheel and me in the passenger seat. As we turned to pull out of the driveway, a huge 4WD ute with headlights on high beam pulled in, engine revving, looming over us, forcing us to reverse. Young angry men were in the ute, yelling, and loud, aggressive music roared out the windows, base thudding. The ute spun around, tyres spinning, ripping up grass and spraying mud everywhere, circling around us. B was infuriated and, instead of driving away, turned our car to face them. I screamed at her to go and, as I did, the men in the ute fired guns, shooting at us, at the house, at everything in sight. B swung the car around, the rest of us ducked and covered our heads, and we pulled out of the driveway, speeding up the road through the suburban streets. We were unhurt.

dog crossing road

2011-06-16T11:49:00.000+10:00

A small dog, much like the lovely, scruffy dog my grandparents had when I was a child, bolted out my front door, up the driveway and across the road. I was worried; the road is busy and the dog was excitable. She snuffled about in the bush on the other side of the road before returning. And, amazingly, she seemed to possess road sense, even though I knew her to be unfamiliar with the wider world. Before crossing, she quickly scanned the road in both directions for coming cars, and raced back to me, joyful.

keep moving

2011-05-12T09:25:00.000+10:00

In a pool. My blankets, sheets and quilt are heaped on the cement at the side of the pool. As I swim, I see the quilt slip off the pile and into the water. There is nothing to be done so I continue swimming.

I am angry with someone I care about. Rather than say anything, I lie belly down on a board, much like a surfboard without any fins, and slide down the hill, following the path. I race down at breakneck speed, shoot past trees and driveways, steer my board by leaning left or right until I swerve around a sharp bend and reach the busy road. Then I climb the hill toward the house, board under my arm, calm.

venomous snake

2011-04-29T10:54:00.000+10:00

Snakes. The grounds around the house were infested. Snakes different shades of brown and gold, snakes of varying sizes. Snakes under the cover of scrub and grass, silently gliding. Snakes across the path. I was careful not to disturb them, to step on them, but the light was low and they were camouflaged. The gold snakes were not as frightening, seemed not to be aggressive. But the brown snakes ... I stepped too close to a mottled brown snake. It reared up, darted forward, lashed out, attacked. I grabbed it around the throat and held it away from me. It struggled to wriggle out of my fist and its skin rippled forward so that its head began to disappear into its neck, pulling backward. I had to tighten my grip, prevent it from escaping. Its tail thrashed about and I pulled its skin back so that its head remained above my hand. Furious, the snake opened its mouth, baring its teeth; not two fangs, but about six or eight long sharp teeth that protruded from its jaws, fanned out. I held the snake as far from me as possible, knowing that the snake was desperate to strike. Venom sprayed out of the snakes teeth, fountained into the air, spraying the surrounds and my throat. As soon as the snake had exhausted its supply of poison, I mustered my strength and threw it as far away as I could. I saw it land on the bush floor and I turned and ran.

unclean house

2011-04-27T10:56:00.000+10:00

I had returned home after some time away, but home was no longer the place I recognised. I lived in a large house with many, many rooms housing people with whom I have worked over the years. In fact, as the dream progressed, the house became increasingly like a place of work, even though it was furnished with the usual items one would find in a home. I was in the bathroom, doing my best to shower and dress, but the room had been left in a mess. Damp towels hung on the rails, the bath was filled with dirty water, the toilet was not flushed and sported drips on the seat, the shower needed a scrub, and various personal items had been discarded on the floor. For some reason, I needed to hurry - a job to do? - but I determined to return to clean the house from top to bottom. While I readied myself, I flung the soiled towels into a heap on the tiled floor and opened the bathroom door, so at least I could create a washing pile and air the room. Two women with whom I have worked closely were walking about in the hall, also preparing to go somewhere to work. I told them that I intended to clean out the rooms, that I like a clean house. They obviously agreed and yet they had neglected to keep the house in order.

feathers

2011-04-27T10:43:00.001+10:00

My father had soft yellow feathers on the soles of his feet. Not stuck to his feet but growing out of his skin, sprouting like the plumage of a luxuriously fluffy bird.

nightmare

2011-03-31T09:18:00.000+10:00

Night. The home of my youth. My family, gone. Stay very still. Hold my breath. Something unfolding. A woman and three men do something wrong, something unspeakable. They don't know I'm there. From another room, I spy them. They gather, look down at something out of my view. Pin something down. A squeal, blood and a satisfied smile on the woman's face. Something killed - an animal? I run. Into the dark, bare feet on the drive, loud steps follow. Search for my car. Gone. I'm not fast on foot. No choice but to hide. Run down a sharp-stoned lane into shadow. Scale a fence and creep under a neighbour's house, bury myself behind the foundations, disappear into the dark.

octopus arms

2011-03-19T11:07:00.000+10:00

We were in my grandparents' home, down the road from where I lived when I was a child. I was in the third bedroom, the spare room with a double bed. My friend called me and I found her in the first bedroom where I slept over many a night when I was young, in a single bed alongside the window. The bed was gone and a big silver refrigerator stood where the cupboard had been. The fridge door was ajar and my friend was looking inside and to the floor in horror. 'Look', she said. There were two long octopus arms, one on the top shelf of the fridge door and the other on the floor, writhing and wriggling as though they were alive. The arm on the shelf was obviously trying to get inside a jar that held something soaking in a milky liquid and the arm on the floor was travelling across the carpet, back toward the fridge. We stared, fixated on the macabre spectacle, not sure what to do. What was it inside the jar that so compelled the suckered arms? Suddenly my friend was angry and said something I didn't understand. Her sentence made no sense and the words seemed mixed up. She stormed out of the room and phoned someone, seemingly to do something about the wandering arms. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed an axe, thinking that my friend was upset because I had not acted quickly enough. I hurried back to the first bedroom and my friend had already returned there, also wielding an axe. She swung her axe through the air, chopping the arm on the floor in half. I tried to knock the other arm off the refrigerator-door shelf onto the floor, but in so doing, I knocked over a container of food, which spilled all over the carpet. Now the second octopus arm was squirming about in a mess of lentils. I painstakingly scraped everything up off the floor, depositing it onto some newspaper, which I disposed of. The person my friend had called had arrived and now they were leaving together. I was upset as my friend was still angry with me and I was not sure why. She had spoken to me a few more times but, frustratingly, I could not understand her words. Sitting on the floor in the first bedroom, I called out to her, desperate for her to come back so that we could work it out. Instead, her friend came into the room and, with her face very close to mine, so close I observed her mascara, said it was sad that I would be sitting at home crying, working all day on my birthday while my friend was out. I was shocked to realise that it was my birthday and even sadder to think I would spend it alone, working.

I woke from this dream with the sadness in my body. Rather than beginning the day this way, I chose to close my eyes and return to the scene of the dream. Although I didn't fall asleep, I imagined the dream playing out a different way; I imagined a happier dream. At the point where we were standing, watching the octopus arms wriggle towards the jar, I asked my friend what was in the jar. She told me it was the rest of the octopus, soaking in milk to soften it for cooking. We decided that, seeing as the octopus body parts seemed to be alive, we would return them to the ocean and, because it was my birthday, we would take the day off, swim and enjoy the day and each other's company. We collected the arms and the jar and took the car that was garaged underneath the house, driving through the suburbs to the sea. Once there, we emptied the contents of the jar and the two arms into the waves, leaving them to reunite, and we frolicked on the shore. I felt much happier after re-imagining my dream.

facing fear

2011-03-19T10:07:00.000+10:00

I was living in an old building with others. We seemed to be squatting for the rooms were derelict and unfurnished, with no secure windows or doors. A group of young boys sat in the entrance room against the wall. They were always there, and I did not trust them. They heckled people as they came and went, harrying them at times. I kept my distance. Although I seemed to own very little, I still had my handbag where I safeguarded anything of value, including a substantial sum of money - perhaps my means out of there. One night I noticed my handbag missing and looked immediately to the boys. Sure enough, they had it; I could see them huddled in the doorway, rifling through the contents. I called to my friend, telling her the boys had my bag. But, though I feared them, it was up to me to retrieve it. I walked into the cold cement room and faced the gang of boys who were sitting in a line against the wall. Demanding they return my bag, I threatened them, yelling at them, saying I would get them if they didn't, I would hurt them. As soon as I had spoken, I felt great remorse. I looked at them, ashamed, and told them I was sorry, that I would not hurt them. Instead of threatening them, I spoke my simple truth: my bag is important to me and I want it back. To my surprise, they handed it to me and, upon checking, nothing was astray. Still, one of the boys jeered at me. He stood up and moved obtrusively into my personal space. Again, instead of reacting in fear, I looked at him, I really saw him. I asked his name. He looked up, into my eyes for the first time and told me. And, realising we had never before truly acknowledged each other as people, rather we had regarded one another with animosity because of our fear, I told him my name. Something shifted. The fear was gone - mine and the boy's. We had become allies, friends and, although unspoken, I knew we would look out for one another, protect one another from this day on.

robbery

2011-03-13T10:44:00.000+10:00

I heard a noise and woke, knowing that someone was in the house. I crept up the stairs and saw two young, fair boys - brothers, about 14 and 10 - in the midst of a robbery. They did not seem in the least surprised to see me, nor concerned; they continued taking my things. I noticed that my computer was missing and, worse, so was the external hard drive on which I back up all of my work and creative projects. I asked them to return it as it was very important to me. They ignored me and went about stealing. Knowing I would have to do something drastic to get through to them, I grabbed the younger boy around the throat and squeezed; not tightly enough to choke or strangle him, but enough that he was distressed, which frightened his brother. Again, I asked them to return my external hard drive. The older boy ran out of the house to retrieve it and, while he was outside, still holding the younger boy firmly by the throat, I called the police. The line was bad and the police seemed not to have a sense of urgency; nonetheless, I told them I was being burgled and where to find the house. The older child returned with the hard drive and I let go of his brother. I could hear voices outside and ventured out into the dark where a gang of youths were waiting. Although they were all involved in the crime, none seemed particularly dangerous. Rather, they seemed to be stealing for thrills, sending the young ones in to collect what goods they might. There were too many of them to counter, so, instead, I acted casually while observing as much as I could, studying the details of their appearances and their vehicles. One young man, barely out of his teens, a big and burly boy with dark, curling hair, cigarette in hand, spoke with me while he waited for the group to reassemble, to leave. I gathered that this was something they'd starting doing regularly to relieve the boredom. He bragged a little, and so doing let slip that they'd robbed someone called Janine twice, and that Charlie had something to do with it. I did my best to appear unperturbed, but committed the names and our conversation to memory. Soon, they all piled into the two cars and sped away. Only moments later, appearing from the opposite direction, the police arrived.

obstacles

2011-02-26T08:41:00.000+10:00

I was driving a VW Beetle along a remote road that, strangely, was thick with traffic. The long line of cars stuttered along, stopping and starting, held up by something unseen ahead. The car behind me persistently encroached on my space and, pressured, I too repeatedly braked too close to the car in front. Eventually, worried that I would collide, I swerved to the left, joining another lane, which, once there, turned out not to be a lane at all but a dwindling line of cars that had pulled over and was now attempting to rejoin the queue. I too indicated to move right, but the ground between the side of the road and the road opened, birthing a dirt ditch, just wide and deep enough to swallow a small car. The other cars crossed the ditch, merging with traffic, and the long line of cars drove into the distance, leaving me alone with my car pitched against a wall of dirt. Stepping out of the car, I took a look around. The road disappeared and I found myself in a canyon, rock walls stretching high and the ground now dirt and rocks. I could see quartz and other mineral rocks protruding from the cliff walls, buried but for their glittering tips. I skirted the walls, observing the rock formations, until I remembered the car. Returning to it, I could see that it too was now wedged into the dirt, buried up to the roof. I would need help to retrieve it. More alarmingly, however, there were two snakes dozing next to the car, effectively blocking my path. One snake, extremely long and pale green, coiled in a heap, although disquieting, appeared less threatening than the other. The second snake was much shorter, perhaps only a foot or two, with black and brown markings. I knew that this snake was venomous, dangerous. I moved away, pondering what to do, when the dark snake darted at me. Unable to outrun it, I faced it, seizing it just below the head, and threw it as far as I could away from me. It immediately returned, chasing me down, slithering quickly across the dirt, again lashing out at me. Again, I grabbed the snake and hurled it away. This time it struck the canyon wall and transformed upon impact into an animal like a raccoon, and ran into the scrub, hiding. Knowing that, contrary to its disguise, the creature was really a snake, I looked for an escape. A building wall and door appeared, so, rushing past the scrub and the still sleeping green snake, leaving behind my car, I quickly opened the door and closed it behind me, entering a man-made environment - a seemingly safer space. Turning around, I looked through an enormous screened window to the canyon on the other side. Sure enough, I watched as the 'raccoon' morphed back into its true snake form, and slithered out of the scrub. I noticed how the giant screen was built and secured into the window - with neater and better joinery than most, how it protected the inside from the outside so securely, and committed the design to memory.

giant kangaroos

2011-02-22T08:38:00.000+10:00

Giant kangaroos. As big as elephants. Dark grey, almost black. Powerful, muscular beasts jumping. Surrounding the house. Threatening.

waiting, anger and communication

2011-02-22T08:35:00.000+10:00

I was waiting, sitting reading inane magazines at the hairdressers. My appointment was for four o'clock in the afternoon, and the appointments appeared to be running behind time. I was unperturbed. The hair studio was on the ground floor of a suburban shopping centre and, every so often, people would come in to visit the staff, rather than to have their hair done. Some people were rough, threatening even, and I did my best to remain calm and to placate or humour those that spoke directly to me. Time passed and every so often my hairdresser would tell me that she would not be much longer. A woman who also had been waiting, was finally called upon, but she grew angry and said it was too late; she needed to go home to make dinner for her children. I had not yet looked at the time - clocks were conveniently absent from the walls, but I presumed it to be late in the afternoon. There were no windows so I could not see the sky. I flicked through magazine after magazine, re-reading some. I was growing restless and increasingly irritated by the wait. Some people I knew visited the salon and I asked one of them the time. It was after eight. I was furious. Furious that I had been made to wait over four hours, and even more furious that I had actually waited - no one had forced me to sit there hour upon hour waiting for such a ridiculous amount of time. I searched for my hairdresser to tell her that I was leaving and could not find her. I hurried out the back and saw that the staff were lazing about, gossiping. I told off one young woman, saying I would tell everyone I knew. I immediately regretted saying that as it was not the message I wanted to communicate. I wanted to say I was angry, and that their service was one not worth the wait. My words were caught in my mouth; indeed, my mouth seemed full. I realised I had a giant wad of chewing gum in my mouth and spat it out, but it made little difference. Still my mouth seemed slow and unwieldy. I knew that I was most angry at myself for having wasted precious time through being too compliant, too easygoing, and now I could not seem to communicate my anger.

layers

2011-02-20T09:20:00.000+10:00

I was walking, at night, alone. I ventured into a small, dark cabin and, finding nothing there, I opened the door, intending to leave. A tall man stood in the doorway, blocking my path. He said nothing, but closed the door again, locking it. I was trapped inside and wondered what would happen. After a time, he opened the door and ushered me out into a yard where several other people were waiting. I was instructed to climb up a ladder, onto a diving platform above the pool, where I was to undress and then dive into the pool. The people sat around, awaiting my performance. I climbed up and began to undress, but beneath each layer of clothing was another layer. There was nothing provocative about the routine; each item of clothing was sensible rather than attractive. I removed a pair of black socks to find sports socks; under my jacket, I wore several layers; under my pants, were other pairs of pants; and so on. Concerned about appearing naked in front of the audience, I seemed to conjure layer upon layer of clothing.

The following night, a similar dream:

I was in the bathroom of my grandmother's house, undressing so as to get ready to go somewhere. In the bathroom with me was someone I trust implicitly. I removed my shoes, my dress and found I was wearing rather old-fashioned undergarments: a camisole and a half-slip petticoat. I attempted to remove the camisole, but, upon pulling it up toward my head, I found myself stuck. My friend helped me; he did his best to gently tug the top up and over my head, and then helped me with the next item of clothing. Again, there seemed to be several layers of clothing, appearing as I removed each previous item.

witch

2011-02-02T10:00:00.000+10:00

Walking through West End in Brisbane, along Hardgrave Road. Past cafes brimming with people, past bars and restaurants full to capacity. I turned up Dornoch Terrace and soon happened upon an old woman, a frightening woman. I could sense her. She deliberately bumped into me and then cursed. I turned, deciding to go back the way I had come, to avoid her. She followed closely, too closely, so that I had to speak with her. I asked her name, but I didn't quite catch her reply. Her face was deeply lined from what appeared to be years of drinking or smoking or drugs, her bottom lip laced with piercings, perhaps twenty or more. Her hair was wild and grey, blowing about her head. I went to walk through a tunnel under the road, hoping to lose her. But she descended with me and I found myself in a dark space with a strange woman who demanded to know my thoughts. 'I wish you well. Whatever you do, I wish you well,' I answered. Once again, I asked her name. This time I heard her. Gwineth. Upon knowing her name, I said goodbye and turned around again, leaving the tunnel and walking back to the business of the cafes and restaurants. I knew I had encountered a witch and, somehow, I felt implicated, having been in her presence, as though the people would assume that I was also a witch and of ill intent.

broken

2011-01-20T10:45:00.000+10:00

I was in the home of an acquaintance, who is an expert in her field - a creative, a diva, known for her work. She was out of the house and I was busying myself at her dressing table, in front of the mirror. A beautiful antique china vase with a hinged lid sat atop the dressing table. I carefully opened the lid for a moment, touching it lightly so as not to damage it. Closing it, I looked back into the mirror, when I heard something crack. The lid of the vase was broken, a jagged hole in the lid and a piece of china adrift on the dressing table. I was horrified, not sure what to do. My friend returned home and I had to tell her. She was extremely upset and told me it had been her grandmother's. It was very precious to her. I promised to buy her something of value, another antique vase, but I knew that nothing could match the value of this piece. I had broken something of great personal value to her and it could not be fixed.
Next, I was in the bedroom of another acquaintance, again a creative, a rather studied man, once revered for his work. He handed me his diary - a stylish black Moleskin - and a sharp lead pencil. He asked me to write something down and left the room. I opened the diary, wrote on the last page, ripped it out, folded it and put it in my pocket. Suddenly, I realised that I had ruined the diary, that, with a page missing, torn from the book, it was no longer complete. For such a perfectionistic man, I knew the diary was broken. I rushed from the room, determined to buy another diary, but, flicking through the pages, I could see page after page of personal entries, written in a careful hand in lead pencil. Nothing would replace this diary, which evidently was of great value to the man. I returned to the room, placed the diary carefully on his bed, and left, hoping, somehow, that he would never notice the torn edge of the last missing page in his book.

trapped

2011-01-07T18:59:00.000+10:00

Early evening and the streets were in darkness. I was in an unfamiliar town, heading home, walking with three tall, burly, bearded mountain men. I liked them immensely, but I knew them little. We reached a narrow lane and the man started down it. I hesitated, scanning the crossroad, realising I had a choice: I could go with them, trust them, or walk back the way we had come and navigate the dark streets alone. Neither option seemed sensible. The men urged me to join them and appeared mystified as to my uncertainty. 'I don't know you,' I said. I looked again back down the road, a few people now milling under the street lights, and thought I'd go that way. Immediately, a gate closed across the lane entrance. A third time, I looked back down the road and now the people were in turmoil: men hurting women, women hurting one another, gangs travelling up the road toward me. Violence, crime and torture. I ran at the gate, it opened and I fled down the lane, calling to others in the lane to run, run. A young girl started screaming and I clapped my hand over her mouth, running with her, anxious that we should escape unheard, unharmed. At the end of the lane, I emerged into a maze of streets, alone but for the three men. Finding my car, I jumped in and the men all helped to push the car into a secure position from which to climb the steep and alarmingly narrow road. I drove up and, upon reaching a huge step, poked my legs through the car floor and stepped up, dragging the car with me. At the top of the hill I looked back to see that the men had driven a different route and I wondered, had I gone the wrong way? I continued on foot, turned into a dark tunnel and climbed up the steep stairs inside. A crowd of people followed, all desperate to go home. At the top of the stairs, the tunnel opened to a lane that ran between tall buildings. I peeked out. Soldiers waited at one end of the lane to my left, and soldiers wearing a different uniform guarded the other end of the lane to my right. We could not go forward and, because the long, long line of people stretched all the way back down through the tunnel, we were unable to retreat. We were trapped. A soldier appeared at the doorway and was about to blow the whistle when he spied someone he knew, someone he once fancied, standing third in line. She, knowing the privileges of being in his favour, stepped outside but asked to bring one other person with her. She chose a young man from the front of the queue. I held two old women who leant against me for support, tears spilling onto my cheeks as I could see no rescue, no escape. There was no future for those of us trapped in the tunnel, the soldier about to uncover us.

into the light

2011-01-07T18:25:00.000+10:00

We saw something - a light, a ghost, an angel - descend from the sky and settle nearby. I raised myself into the air and flew over, sweeping in a large arc, and landed close to the light - for now, it was clear it was light. B joined me, having followed on foot, and waded without hesitation into the light. 'Come in,' she called. I tentatively dipped a hand into the glittering sea of white and purple particles, but I withdrew quickly as the light prickled and needled my skin. I persisted and, after a few attempts, I stepped into the light. Walking around, the light ceased to prickle and, instead, I felt bathed in wonder.

choosing abundance

2010-11-25T14:29:00.001+10:00

Driving over the apex of a city hill on dusk, I could see a traffic jam ahead in the bottommost curve of the road, before it swept once again up the hill. The red brake lights of all cars in front of me glowed dimly in the darkening day. As I approached the queue, I saw that the road divided: I could either join the long line of cars inching along the road, or I could drive up a set of cement stairs that reached high up above the city. Taking a risk, I drove straight at the stairs, hoping, believing that the car would not simply crash into the staircase. Indeed, the car eased onto the stairs and drove powerfully, confidently up the steep incline. I realised that I was driving a black Lexus, and felt assured, knowing my car was capable. At the top of the stairs, I drove into a wide and spacious mezzanine area. I left my car to take a look around. Up here, there were people enjoying the view, children having private art lessons from master artists, boutiques selling exquisite clothing and art works of great beauty. All of this and more, in the city and yet above it.

three dreams

2010-10-06T21:08:00.000+10:00

Three dreams -
One: A friend was voluntarily locked in a room. I tiptoed around outside the room, doing my best to be silent. I collected glass after used glass from the floor, all of them drained of one or another alcoholic drink that my friend had consumed. Wine glasses, champagne flutes, beer glasses and empty bottles; I collected as many as I could, setting them upon the sink, doing my best not to wake her.
Two: My friend shouted at my brother over the telephone. I was appalled, outraged, and would not let it be. It was as though she had attacked the most precious, most vulnerable part of myself. I insisted that she call back and apologise; not until she had done so would I even consider continuing any kind of friendship. She called, the other members of my immediate family present. She apologised, but insincerely, without actually taking responsibility and with no remorse. It was not enough. I did not believe her, or sense any kind of true understanding of her actions, only that she did not want to be punished. My mother and my sister backed me. We all wanted her to call again and truthfully express her apologies at having vented so misguidedly.
Three: I was driving my car, attempting to park at a venue around four in the afternoon. The venue carpark was closed and so I drove around the nearby streets, searching for a park. I wanted to find somewhere close and well lit so that once the event had finished, I could return to my car quickly and safely. I saw someone leaving a great spot, directly opposite the venue, on a corner. I drove easily into the park, but, once there, realised that it was reserved for buses and other commercial vehicles. I left and drove around a couple of streets, each taking me further from the venue and increasingly dark. I saw what I initially thought was a great park; certainly easy to get in to. However, while driving into it, I looked around and saw that the surrounding houses reeked with bad energy. I senses danger. I looked back to my park too late and drove straight into a pit that had opened in the road before me. I dropped through the ground into darkness and, immediately, my car turned into a bicycle and I caught it between my knees and grabbed onto the side of the road so that I hung from it, and my bike hung from me. I waited there for someone to give me a hand up. I thought that, should they come, I could pass them my bike (which I knew to really be a car) and then climb out of the pit with their assistance. I did not want to fall, knowing that it would be into the unknown.

not me

2010-10-06T20:39:00.000+10:00

I had had an accident and I no longer had control of my body or mind. I was taken to a church event, which seemed fine, but I was in despair for I no longer had choice or expression. I wept. I cried for myself, for my brain, for my body. I was encumbered by the existing, surviving, misshapen, incomprehensible remnant of who I once had been.

insectile bird

2010-10-03T15:12:00.000+10:00

A tiny bird, the size of a matchbox, flew through the window and circled the room. Featherless, it resembled a robotic bird, an insect, more than a bird. It whirred musically, mechanically as it flew. A flesh pink insect ten times its size snatched at the bird flying past. It scuttled after it, legs needling air, desperate to clutch it, to eat it. The bird hummed past, erratic, frantic, until it escaped back through the open window.

trapped

2010-09-30T09:38:00.000+10:00

I was on my way home, having travelled far away. My luggage was packed into the back of a taxi and I sat in the passenger seat, waiting for the taxi driver to collect another person before we could be on our way. The taxi was parked on a road in a park. Rain suddenly bucketed from the sky and pandemonium broke loose. People were running, cars drove wildly around the path and across the grass. In the confusion, the taxi driver started the engine and drove, without the other passenger, attempting to move the car away from the chaos until it had calmed. I was nervous and felt trapped. We drove up the street, through a lot of construction, overseen by numerous police and security guards. We passed a marching band and maneuvered our way through narrow streets and tall buildings. I was lost. The taxi driver, an old man, tried to kiss me. I told him to stop but he persisted until I shouted at him. Even then, he crossed boundaries and I repeatedly had to defend my space. I did not try to leave the taxi; I felt I couldn't. We drove back to the park where we picked up my friend. While the driver was busy with something, I asked her if she would mind being dropped off at my house, then I could drive her home. She was puzzled, but agreed. I didn't want an opportunity where the man might try to come in. I then realised that the man was going to see where I lived, and I tried to concoct a different address. Through the car window, I could see a dear friend in the park and I wanted to go to him, but, again, I felt trapped in the taxi. The driver steered the car across the park and, instead of turning onto the road and going home, he drove through the pond to the other side where he lived in a shack. We alighted the taxi and visited his home. I did not want to be there. The memory of other women haunted the place, women he had taken there. I could not only feel them, but hear them. Some were laughing at us, some were warning. I hoped they knew I was not there willingly, that I would continue to defend my space and that of my friend.

blissful home

2010-09-29T10:09:00.000+10:00

We were inside our home with guests. While B was talking with them, I wandered outside into the garden. It was late in the day and the moon had risen; a white disc high in a serene blue sky. The garden was in full bloom and huge soft pink roses had opened overnight. They were fat and lovely, their velvety petals wide and fragrant. I went back inside, eager to tell B and show her our garden. She was in the middle of a conversation so I waited until the time was right and then took her outside. The sea had now risen and instead of a distant view of the ocean, its clear turquoise waters lapped at our garden. We were delighted and surprised. I told B that I thought we were dreaming. She agreed and, knowing that it was merely a dream, we decided to enjoy it, aware that if it was real, many people would now be homeless or drowned. As it was, we experienced a kind of magic. B saw the roses and many other flowers - white and pink trumpet lilies, jasmine and other fragrant flowers - all in bloom.

missing out

2010-09-24T16:12:00.000+10:00

I was inappropriately dressed, wearing only underwear and boots, and aware of it. Although I was in my house, I was in the presence of strangers and I was extremely uncomfortable, although they seemed not to notice. I did my best to conceal my body while searching for something more appropriate, more covering. Even when dressed, I felt uneasy, and I realised that I was home alone with four strange men. I pretended to see someone I knew outside the window and rushed out, running away.
Now, it was Christmas Eve, at about five or six in the early evening. Everyone seemed to be preparing for great festivities. I opened a suitcase and found a few items of clothing that I added to my attire, but, before I could leave, I was asked to help clean up, even though it was not my home. I carefully washed and dried the dishes in the sink, and cleaned the cupboards, finishing the job, long after other people had left. I wondered how best to celebrate and thought I would wander up the hill to a cluster of huge buildings where people seemed to be flocking - perhaps there I would find B. I saw a dear friend at the entrance of one of the auditoriums and, embracing him, he asked me if I could help him in the next auditorium, to open and close the curtains for a show. I hesitated as I wanted to be on my way, but I followed him through the crowd, into the building and backstage, where I helped him for a while. When I was no longer needed, I left and continued on my way, but I could not now find B anywhere.
Next, it was Christmas Day and I was walking up a busy road, on my way to visit a friend. I thought we would go out to celebrate. I was again aware of what I was wearing - this time a black short dress with heavy black boots. I felt quite strong and determined as I walked. Upon arriving at my friend's house, he said he needed to shower and asked me to make him an omelette. I did so, but all the while I felt amiss, as though I was continually waylaid by other people's needs, and distracted from my purpose. Other people were celebrating while I was otherwise occupied.

marching band and circus solo

2010-09-03T18:42:00.000+10:00

I watched an unusual performance. An Australian circus performer, well-known for burlesque, physical performance, and particularly trapeze and hula hoop, was doing a wild and extremely energetic dance. She was dressed in a fantastic red and blue drummer boy outfit: very short glittery shorts, a sparkling midriff top, a tall soldier hat and long boots, and she twirled and tossed a baton. Her physical strength and skill was compelling. Behind her, accompanying her, was a Christian marching band. Perhaps one or two hundred young people, playing a range of instruments and dressed in blue school uniform, marched behind her. The music was sensational; featuring brass and percussion, providing a strong and driving rhythm. The contrast between the two looks was very striking. Where she was extraverted, highly individual and sexy, the band, though moving in time to the music, were uniform, conservative and modest. Together, it worked brilliantly.

conformity

2010-09-03T18:15:00.001+10:00

I trekked from Brisbane inner city, homeward bound, over the Victoria Bridge, on nightfall. Once over the bridge, I followed the street curving around and under it, so that I emerged near the art gallery and the library. Gathered on the grounds were hundreds, even several thousands, of artists, writers and arts practitioners. Every single person was wearing black. I looked down and saw that I, too, was dressed entirely in black. I was disappointed and determined that I should change my outfit, that I would dress, from now on, in colour.

crossing and crocodile

2010-08-25T11:24:00.000+10:00

I was driving up a hill and, at the crest, my car came to rest, balancing precariously. The hill was so steep that the car was stuck, see-sawing on top. I left the car and carried on the journey on foot, walking through shallow rock pools, avoiding anything that looked to be dangerous. Soon, I came to a crossing. The police had organised a barricade and were directing traffic across and around it. Still on foot, I reached the front of the queue from where I could see into a deep pit filled with water. One policeman instructed people at the top of the pit, and a second policeman stood on a platform inside the pit, helping people across. A crocodile repeatedly jumped up, out of the water, snapping at the heels of those passing overhead. The first policeman told me that I would have to jump as far as I could, and trust that the second policeman would catch me and help me travel safely to the other side. While I waited for the right moment, the crocodile was leaping ever closer, his mouth gaping wide. I could see that he had no teeth, and his mouth was shaped more like a strange fish. The first policeman grabbed one of my bare feet and held it above the crocodile, teasing it. It was too close for my liking and I struggled free. While the first policeman was busy directing the next people in line, I jumped, without warning, and landed lightly in the arms of the second policeman, the crocodile snapping at me all the while. I was delivered safely onto the other side of the pit, with the crocodile still leaping up out of the water, trying frantically to catch me and eat me.

dreaming

2010-08-20T17:20:00.000+10:00

I was in my late grandparents' garage, in the semi-dark under their home. I was in consultation with a naturopath who had evidently been treating me for something. She brought up my results so far, which manifested as a light display around the room. Coloured lights shone and shifted, flitting from one wall to the next, and beaming through the space. She was delighted, noting how well I was, how the brilliant lights reflected my growing state of health. The only odd thing, she seemed to think, was that my brain waves were showing unusual activity, which would be accounted for by wild and vivid dreams if I was a child, but, as an adult, she thought it unlikely. I told her that I did, indeed, experience extremely lucid and inventive dreams. She regarded me curiously and I was left with the feeling that this dreaming was unusual.

he turned out to be the devil

2010-08-20T17:04:00.001+10:00

Hurrying somewhere through a public place, I heard a thud and the sharp knock of bone against cement behind me. I turned to see a man sprawled on the ground. He had fallen and broken his arm. Although I was keen to keep going, to be on my way, I knelt beside him to check on him. He was obviously injured, his arm broken. I asked someone to call an ambulance and I held onto him, keeping him conscious and doing my best to comfort him. I stayed for some time, waiting with him for help to arrive. As time passed, he began to ask me questions about my life, my family. I felt uncomfortable as his questioning grew increasingly intrusive. Finally, he seemed to have recovered from his fall - without the intervention of medical aid - and I left him to repack my suitcase so that I could leave. Somehow, all of my belongings were now strewn across the ground and, knowing that he would hide something of his in my bag given the chance, I checked everything thoroughly before packing it. Someone helped me to pack and I told them to look for anything strange as 'he would try to bait me', with the object of somehow tracking me. Sure enough, I found his necklace - a stylised silver cross on black leather - among my things. I threw it back over to where he was waiting, hoping he didn't notice. Unfortunately he did and he came over with the cross, insisting angrily that I should have it. Realising that he was the devil, I looked him in the eye and told him that I wanted nothing of his, nothing at all. My certainty drove him away.

giant python

2010-08-10T15:44:00.000+10:00

I was inside family home where I lived as a teenager. The house had three levels: the garage, laundry and 'rumpus' room on the lower level; the entry, lounge room, kitchen and sunroom on the middle level - the 'heart' of the home; and the bedrooms and bathroom on the upper level. Balconies came off various rooms on all levels. I ran up the stairs from the middle level to the bedroom level toward my bedroom, knowing that there was an intruder, a giant python, in the house. I was desperate to see if the pets and children were unharmed, as the snake was large enough to eat them whole. I raced to the bedroom, calling out to them and, by doing so, distracting the snake, which turned to focus on me. I stayed long enough to observe that the children and animals were alive and well; it appeared that the python was just about to attack them. I then ran back down the stairs, to the front door, the snake - a clammy pale-skinned creature with an enormous head - in close pursuit. I opened the front door and, though the snake reared up and attempted to strike my face, I somehow ushered the snake through the doorway and closed the door firmly behind it. We were safe.

crocodiles and water rising

2010-08-07T16:29:00.000+10:00

I was in a room under my family home. The ocean was just outside, waves encircling the house and rising fast. Soon the water gushed into the house and many people swam out into the sea, meeting the waves head on. Rather than venture out, I swam through the now-open glass sliding doors and climbed on top of a corrugated iron shed to watch the crowd. I was eating dates. A crocodile swam out of the shed and into the ocean. I knew that my family were somewhere in the waves and I hoped that they would make it back alive. Twenty or more crocodiles emerged from the shed and powered out into the waves. One huge crocodile lurked below, circling the shed. It reared up out of the water and snapped giant jaws at me. I threw a date in its direction, which distracted the beast long enough for me to leap off the shed into the water and swim back into the house, where the water had now subsided. I closed the doors. After a time, the survivors of the sea left the water and began a long march away from the ocean. The caravan moved steadily, with purpose, the well aiding the injured. I ran through the crowd, searching for my family, and found my mother being carried on a stretcher by a few of her close friends. To my horror, I saw that her hands and her feet had been dismembered, but she had them with her. She seemed to feel no pain and, in fact, was quite happy, confident that her hands and feet would be reattached. She asked me to look for my father. I ran back along the line until I found him, sitting on a hospital bed watching the crowd file past. His legs had been bitten off and he was hooked up to a drip and another monitoring machine. I was devastated, but again he appeared not to be in pain and was sure that it would all turn out for the best. My brother appeared, also searching for family, and we wondered what to do. We were discussing the cataclysmic event and how each of us had done our best to survive it, when again the waves rose and crashed around us. With no time to lose, we unhooked my father from the various tubes, grabbed the hospital bed and pushed him through the waves, joining the procession away from the ocean. I wondered where my sister was and hoped we would find her.

blocking my way

2010-08-04T09:58:00.001+10:00

I was in the home that my parents built, where I lived in my teenage years. I was trying to leave the house, hoping to be somewhere on time. I was the only one of my family at home as the others had all left before me. There was, however, another creature, or creatures, there with me, doing their utmost to stop me leaving. The other being was at times one person - a screaming toddler - and at times twins. Sometimes it seemed to be an older, sickly person in a wheelchair. It was both human and otherworldly, perhaps demonic. It had reddish hair and greenish skin, and screamed at the top of its lungs. I ran around the house, doing my best to gather my things, and, at the same time, to find amusements to quieten the creature. It followed me around the house, blocking my path, grabbing at me. It was incredibly strong and its hands were huge, out of proportion with its weedy body. It - they - clutched at me and grasped my wrists, holding me back. Finally, I made it to the front door, but they lunged past me and snatched at the door, again, blocking my way and forcing me back inside, screaming at me all the while. At last, I turned to the creature instead of running from it and talked to it. I cannot recall what I said. But, suddenly, it was quiet. One of the twins, leaned into me, seeking my affection and comfort, but the other turned away from me, distant and cold.

home burned down and snakes

2010-07-21T10:46:00.001+10:00

I was sitting on the ground beside a very shallow stream. I was facing the stream, my back to a dead-end area - a small open space flanked by rocks. I was aware that something seemingly catastrophic was about to happen, that a building or a place was about to die, to burn or some such thing, and that the hundreds and thousands of snakes that had inhabited the place needed to flee and that they would be travelling down the stream. I held a stick in one hand and waited for the snakes. They began to appear. First, hundreds of small sandy-coloured snakes swam downstream, following the course of the water. I brushed my stick across the ground at the shore, hoping the vibration would shepherd any stray snakes back into the water, so that they would pass safely by. The snakes doubled, then tripled in number and variety. Striped snakes, green snakes, pythons and more swam down the stream, travelling somewhere. I continued to brush and tap my stick on the shore until I noticed that there were simply too many snakes, that their perpetual writhing motion had caused a rivulet to form that branched off the stream and wound around into the dead-end space in which I sat. Some of the snakes continued to pass by in the larger stream, and some now followed the rivulet and became trapped in the cul-de-sac. I had to leave and the only way to go was up or down stream. I decided to go back to face the disaster, or whatever had occurred. I was grateful that I was wearing high black boots as I stepped into the stream. I waded up-stream, stepping with great trepidation but also a certain calmness, as the snakes passed by me. I was alert for poisonous snakes - brown snakes, red belly black snakes and more - but I did not see any. Most of the snakes appeared quite innocuous, and some were barely snakes at all, more like long leeches. Indeed, some of the leech-like creatures darted out of the water at my legs, most slipping off the wet, black suede of my boots. Again, I was grateful. As I climbed further up the hill, wading through the water, I passed increasingly frightening-looking snakes: huge black snakes with pronounced heads and flared nostrils, snakes with visible fangs and canny eyes. None, however, struck out or bit me. Finally, I reached the top of the hill and stepped out of the stream. I lifted my skirt to check for leeches and, sure enough, there were plenty, attached like barnacles to the area behind my knees and further up my thighs. I set about plucking each of them off, their long green bodies coming away but leaving their mouths still attached to my skin, which I then, with a little more difficulty, pulled off. Their must have been about fifty or more leeches, but, finally, I had removed them all. I looked around me and took in the nature of the disaster: I was standing outside the shell of my first school, which I also understood to be my family home, the place of my roots and my foundations, which had burned down. It was destroyed. I prepared to go inside and salvage what I could, if there was anything indeed that needed to be saved. I was not sure if I felt utterly devastated or greatly relieved, as though now, at last, I could enter a new phase of life. My phone rang. It was my brother, calling to check on me and to tell me that the only thing he wished he could have saved was his music. I told him that I was going in and that, if his music was still there, I would save it for him.

not as daunting as it seems

2010-07-21T10:06:00.000+10:00

As I sang, my friend accompanied me on the clarinet; a striking and spare rendition of a well-known song.

Next, I was walking down an urban street with another friend, and, as we walked, I told her about my musical experience. I felt convinced that singing was something that I had to pursue. The street changed and narrowed and soon we were walking along a lane, flanked either side by tall stone walls, heading toward the harbour. We could see the water at the end of the lane, which was rising at an alarming rate. The water - bright blue and very clear - towered before us, creating a third wall that was growing with each step closer. We were now wading through thigh-deep water. I caught sight of a whale's tail, disappearing into the king waves. The tail was frighteningly huge, and, judging by its size, the whale would be truly enormous. We stopped walking, afraid to go any closer. We watched the water and saw the whale's tail again. Suddenly, a man standing on one of the stone walls, reached into the water and pulled out a dolphin with a very strange shaped head. He placed it atop the wall. It was not a whale after all; what had seemed to be so terrifying and so large, was not so. The dolphin leapt off the wall and into the water in the passageway, swimming swiftly up the lane, past our legs. I wanted to touch him. As he turned and swam back toward the harbour, he brushed against my legs. I was delighted.

dismembered

2010-07-02T10:56:00.000+10:00

I had a premonition and ran into the bedroom. I could see that my friend was lying on the floor under the bed, and that she was bleeding. I knelt down, trying to see how she was hurt. With horror, I realised that she had deliberately cut off both of her big toes and both of her thumbs. She simply lay on the ground, staring up at the bottom of the bed, blood pooling around her. I pulled her out, cradling her, and pleaded with her to tell me why she had done this. She looked dazed.

car crash and miracle

2010-07-02T10:52:00.000+10:00

I was driving up the mountain, climbing the curling roads. The car seemed unfamiliar and I was trying to drive while doing up my seatbelt and fiddling with the radio. I could see another car coming toward me, swerving and winding. I realised that I was going too fast to handle the sharp bend coming up. I couldn't control the car and, as I swung around the bend, the car slid, screaming across the road, crashing through the fence and suddenly I was flying through the air. For a moment, the car seemed to hover before plummeting down the enormous drop to the bottom of the mountain, and, in that moment, I had time to realise that I was most likely about to die. I wondered how the other driver felt, having witnessed my car drive off the mountain. I thanked God for my life; asked forgiveness for anything I may have done that was not yet resolved; felt a little disappointed that I had lived for so few months on the mountain as I was looking forward to spending much more time there; prayed for my family and B; asked God for a miracle so that, if I survived, I might be physically and mentally whole, and then plunged to the ground. I do not remember the impact, only that, a short time after, I was alive and well, that, somehow, I had survived.

boat crime

2010-06-30T08:20:00.001+10:00

I was with my family on a boat, moored on a river. We were sitting inside the cabin, talking about people who live on boats and why they do. Suddenly, a speed boat shot past us and motored directly into another boat, which was moored only about five hundred metres from us. We watched as the boat reversed and then, purposefully, drove straight into the boat again. A man in his sixties appeared from within the boat and we saw two men on the offending boat, grab him around the throat and strangle him. They turned around and saw us watching and I pointed at them so that they knew that we had seen. I then jumped out of the boat as they would undoubtedly come to get me, as I was witness to their crime. I called out to my family to escape, and I tried to swim under the boat, to hide there under its frame. The men were too fast and, in no time, their boat swung around our boat and I saw them draw their guns. I drew a small pistol and shot one man, first in one shoulder and then in the other, effectively maiming him. The other man released his gun. We called the police and were safe.

letting go of old behaviour - coffee parable

2010-06-30T08:08:00.000+10:00

I was in Brisbane city, visiting the Metro Arts building, where I had worked for many years. I noticed many changes in the surrounding landscape: new hole-in-the-wall coffee outlets, cafes, shops and such. I went for a walk around the block, taking it all in. On the way back, I found a cafe that was owned by people I knew, who also own wellness stores. I thought I would buy a coffee there. I wondered if I should buy a coffee from the coffee house on the corner of Edward and Charlotte Streets, just near the Metro Arts building, as I had heard that their coffee was great, but I decided to support my friends. I waited at the counter for someone to serve me. While I waited, I could see into the theatre adjoining the shop. There were about a thousand wooden ant puppets lined up like and army, a choir, with another marionette dressed in dark red conducting them. In time, the ants waved their legs and clicked them. The scene changed and there were several actors on stage, rehearsing for a musical show. I knew several of the actors and could see at least two of them who also formerly worked at Metro Arts. My attention returned to the coffee house, where I was still waiting for someone to serve me. Finally someone came my way but she went instead to serve someone who had just arrived at the counter. I objected and the woman served me. I felt a little embarrassed about complaining and I made a joke of it. I ordered a soy flat white, which arrived shortly after. I gave her five dollars and, instead of the two dollars change I was owed, she gave me a tiny plastic pearl. I looked at it and saw that it was broken and chipped. I showed the woman and she went to give me another plastic pearl, but I asked for my two dollars change instead. I could plainly see that this pearl was barely worth anything at all and was certainly not a fair exchange. I started walking back down the street with my coffee and decided to take a sip. It was awful; luke warm, weak and overly milky. I realised that I would have to go back and complain again as it was simply not good enough. Now I felt that, at the point when I realised I was waiting a ridiculously long time, before not being served, before being cheated and then served a bad coffee, I should have walked away. I should not have put up with it and I should have simply walked down the road, back to where I was going, and bought a coffee from the place that made great coffees, rather than feel obliged to support people I know.

altered reality

2010-06-15T10:30:00.000+10:00

I woke and sat up in bed, swinging my legs over the side. I found my ugg boots and put them on, but noticed that they were much longer, reaching up over my knee. I removed them as they were not my boots and found my own boots, slipping them on. I wondered who had left their ugg boots beside my bed. I walked up the stairs and, once up there, found that our house had changed. It was no longer completely private, but adjoined to a busy hotel foyer with shops, restaurants and a gym. Still in my pyjamas, I walked through the foyer to where I thought my bathroom should be. It had transformed into a bath house and there were women in there, enjoying monsoon showers, steaming hot tubs, saunas and more. I walked though, amazed, and realised that as I walked, I was actually wading through shallow water. I left, eager to preserve my ugg boots, and wondered why I had not before noticed the bath house. I passed an orchestra gathered in the foyer, perhaps about to rehearse for a concert. I felt a little self-conscious about my attire, and headed back indoors. Later, we lounged in the hotel pool, strangers walking around us. Again, I was perplexed as to why we had not noticed the transformation of our house. Later again, we were seated at a table in the hotel restaurant during breakfast service. Plates arrived on our table and, instead of the scrambled eggs we were expecting, each large white plate had only a small mound of dry crumbs carefully arranged upon it. Apparently this was the latest food fashion - dehydrated food. Angry and amazed, I asked the waiter if they ever had repeat business. He looked appalled and gestured to the crowd around us. Obviously, they were very popular and I was out of date.

two steep hills

2010-06-15T10:12:00.000+10:00

My sister and I were riding bicycles down a very steep road. My sister seemed to have no difficultly and she streamed ahead of me. Everything about her appeared relaxed, even her clothing. She did not wear a helmet, her hair whipped up in the wind, and she wore a blue patterned summer dress that allowed her ease of movement. I, on the other hand, found the steep hill extremely challenging. I felt restricted on my bike, and I could see potholes and gaping gutters appearing on the road. I steered my bike to avoid some of them, and rode - fingers crossed - over those I could not miss. My bicycle felt out of control, flying down the hill at breakneck speed. Even so, my sister was well ahead of me and stopped, halfway down the hill, to wait. As I reached her, I applied the brakes but, in so doing, I toppled the bike and skidded some way down the hill, gripping the road with my body to stop the motion. I was not hurt, though I was shaken. I warily hopped back on the bike and, together, we rode the rest of the way down the hill.
Later, I was driving through the streets of Newcastle, going home. I felt that I had travelled a long way to be here. I was only a street away and I had to turn right and drive down the steepest hill in the city. The road was long and built on such a slope that it was nearly vertical. With my foot planted on the brake pedal, I drove cautiously down the hill, my muscles clenched. At any moment, I felt the car could roll as the nose was pointing so low, or the brakes could fail and I would go sailing off down the streets and crash into the harbour. I passed other cars parked on the hill and I wondered how the owners could park there and feel relaxed about it. I felt that I would be fearful of both the actual act of parking and that, once parked, my car might slip off the hill. I braked all the way down until, finally, I reached the bottom of the hill. Through the window of the house I could see my family and my extended family - including family members no longer with us - gathered in the lounge room, but the gate in the fence around the garden was locked. I lay down on the ground and began to crawl under the gate, until my mother appeared to open it for me. Her cheeks were unusually flushed, as though wearing rosy blush.

floating and snakes in hole

2010-06-09T08:46:00.001+10:00

I was in a lecture that was presented by a space scientist. He was visiting from the most progressive and prestigious space centre in the world, most likely NASA. I sat in the banked seating with B, but, while she was extremely attentive and interested, I fell asleep. I woke toward the end of the lecture, somewhat embarrassed that I had been sleeping, just at the point where the lecturer was asking for volunteers to try out the new 'floating' technology. B raised her hand, along with several other people, and we left our seats and walked down into a laboratory of sorts. There, the lecturer equipped each of the volunteers with a foam covered bar, which they were to hold in front of them in a horizontal position, like gripping a steering wheel rod. The volunteers were then asked to focus their thoughts on floating, 'believe' that they could float, and then sound the word 'hep' every so often, which seemed to boost them up. They each made various progress. Some volunteers slowly lifted a few feet in the air, others barely made it off the ground. I realised that I already knew how to do this, without the bar, and, through a kind of faith and lightness, lifted myself off the ground and floated up toward the ceiling. The lecturer was both impressed and angry, feeling outdone by my performance. I floated and flew around the room. The lecturer wanted to see if I could control the flight, so he yelled out 'Stop!'. I came to a gradual halt, unable to stop on cue, but able to slowly ease to a hovering position and then wheel around. I realised that this was something I could do naturally, but that, with practice, I would be able to master and control.
Later, I had uncovered a hole in the ground and was pulling out some items that I needed. The lecturer appeared and, alarmed, told me to stop, to wait. He said that there may be snakes inside and that, after uncovering such a hole, I should allow time for the snakes to emerge before prodding about, removing my things. If I was too hasty, the snakes may become angered and attack. Sure enough, as we waited, a black snake came out of the hole, as though it had been awoken from a long sleep. It noticed us but, as though it yearned to be outside, it slithered past us, out into the open. I thought that may be all, but a second snake, this one a huge brown, came into view. It initially slid out of the hole and past the lecturer who was waiting with me, but then turned and glided to where I stood. I did not know if it was going to strike or not, so, without waiting, I snatched at it, grabbing the snake around its throat. It was a precarious hold and I could not tell if I had managed to grip it just under its head where I knew it would be safe, so I threw it as far as I could away. It immediately came back, rearing up at me. I grabbed it a second time, this time definitely under its head, but I could feel a second mouth opening in the snake's neck, lined with sharp teeth. The lecturer yelled at me to throw the snake away, and so, again, I threw the snake as far away as I could. It did not come back. We both peered into the hole. I was very tentative now, but knew that I needed to extract what was mine.

unit and art

2010-06-03T17:14:00.000+10:00

I was visiting some people in their new unit. At first, I was only observing the scene as though watching a film, but gradually I became a part of it. The unit was on the top floor of a complex of six units; three on the ground floor and three on the top floor. The inhabitants of two of the top-floor units were friends and divided their time between both units; perhaps more of them knew each other well, but I did not see them. It reminded me of Melrose Place, or some such situation. I did not know anyone well at all and they all seemed to be in their mid thirties, but, even though I am older than that in waking life, I felt a year or two younger. My older sister was there and it became evident that they were her friends. One unit was already furnished and lived in, while the one I was visiting was barely furnished. A blonde woman had nearly finished painting the walls of the entire unit a pale mint green. The style of the unit was quite retro and, although it was not to my taste, the colour quite suited it. Another woman arrived home and became outraged as she had not been consulted as to the new colour. She did not like it and felt that it should be a neutral colour such as white. She and the first woman argued for a while and then the first woman left the room. I had not offered an opinion but as soon as the woman left, the second woman asked me my thoughts on the matter. I said that I thought it would be better if the entire unit was painted a chalky white, with colour introduced by soft furnishings. I suggested warm-coloured furnishings to give the unit a lift. The first woman returned and, immediately, I felt reserved again, aware of the effort it would have taken to paint the unit and not wanting too to attract her anger. I walked around the unit and, as I did, time seemed to pass. It was now painted white, highlighted by soft furnishings and paintings in warm, earthy colours. Fabulous art books and objets d'art were scattered about the place. I went into the dining room and, on the table, saw a crystal bowl. Inside the bowl were several small sculptures of dogs. I picked one up to look at it and then replaced it. Instantly, the dogs came to life. Four tiny dogs walked around inside the bowl. I picked one of them up - a tiny, golden curly-haired dog with sad brown eyes. After putting him back into the bowl, they ceased being live. I walked around the unit again and decided to collect art, to visit galleries and invest in beautiful and valuable pieces.

family home

2010-06-02T11:12:00.001+10:00

I was about to travel home with a companion. Instead of the coastal route, or even the usual inland route, we had just discovered that we were to drive from Queensland to Newcastle via western New South Wales, skirting the border of South Australia. We called my aunty who gave us directions, and, as she did, a hand-drown map of New South Wales appeared before us. She told us the name of a particular road we were to take; the name of the road, although now unclear, had something to do with the word 'safe'. The road appeared on the map, and I circled it. The map and the added markings were in black ink.
Next, I was in Newcastle, walking the streets with some of the male members of my extended family. We were heading to the beach, but we seemed to travel an indirect route, via the railway lines close to the suburb where I lived as a child. We climbed the stairs and crossed the pedestrian bridge over the railway line. As we passed a public pool, I asked my family to wait outside while I ducked in for a moment. I felt I needed to dive into the pool, to do a few laps. Joy surged through my body; I anticipated the wonderful ease of movement and strength I would feel as I moved through the water. I stripped off and jumped in but, instead of feeling lithe and powerful, I felt greatly encumbered. Each stroke took enormous effort. My arms were like heavy weights dragging me down, with very little strength at all. I knew, however, that, should I complete two laps - to the end and back - I would begin a journey toward wellness, and that tomorrow, the laps would be a little easier, and easier again the day after that. I struggled on, willing my arms to circle through the water with each stroke. On the homeward lap, I chose to backstroke, as this had once been my strongest stroke. I tried to find ways to make my arms and hands glide through the water, but still it was as though I had bricks tied to each hand. Nevertheless, I continued until I reached the side of the pool. I jumped out and dried off, dressing again. I checked my reflection in the mirror and noticed that I was still wearing lipstick and, satisfied, I carefully collected my belongings and a few items of my mother's. I was worried that I had taken far too long, but my father, my uncle and other family members were still waiting outside. We continued on. On the way, we stopped at the family home, which was now occupied by my uncle. I had the sense that this house (that does not in real life exist) had been passed down through the generations of our family. We all sat in the lounge room, enjoying one another's company until a team of workmen entered who had been working outside. The leader told my uncle that the work that needed to be done would cost a great deal more than he had originally quoted, and he mentioned an estimated figure that was huge. My uncle stood up and told them to leave, ushering them out the door, a little red in the face. We were all quiet and we could hear the workmen laughing and visiting the hotel across the road. We were not sure if this meant that we would lose the family home or if we could find a way to raise sufficient money to repair it.

tigers

2010-06-02T10:46:00.001+10:00

I passed from outside to inside, crossing the threshold of a communal space, but, just inside the doorway, my path was blocked by about seven tigers on leashes, held back by a man who was letting them, one by one, out the door. I stood with my back to the wall while each of the tigers approached, a breath away from me, sniffed me and passed, without incident, out the door. I concentrated on calming myself, knowing that should I allow fear to take over, I would be in grave danger. The tigers were powerful enough to break free of the man's strong hold, each of the leashes grasped tight in his fist until they were released outside. With each tiger passing, my fear mounted, though I focused on maintaining calm. By the time the last tiger was to due to be released, the man was distracted, talking to another person behind him, and, noticing this, I felt afraid. This tiger looked slightly different to the rest: less beautiful, his chin pronounced, his manner menacing. The tiger sensed my fear and sniffed at me, his breath hot. The man felt a pull on the leash and immediately snapped to attention, tightening the leash, the black leather strap doubled around his fist. He held the tiger, and neither of us were sure if the tiger would have attacked. Instead, the tiger passed through the door and I was free to venture further inside.

friend, noisy men and colour

2010-05-29T11:16:00.001+10:00

All fragmented, scattered dreams of late. Difficult to piece together and communicate.

I was outside the house of my late grandmother and grandfather, having walked the streets to get there. It was now dark and I wanted to go in. I found my dear friend, also heading there, and we arrived together. I felt that we were closely bonded, though we hadn't seen each other for some time. His family and some of mine were inside. I noticed a huge painting on the wall, a dark blue and green abstract of a woman, painted in acrylics. I recognised the style as my friend's wife's. I went into number one bedroom to change my clothing, but detoured to another place, another house. There, I was expected to eat dinner and, although I wanted to see the people there too, I was rushing as I knew I was expected back at my grandmother's house before midnight. I understood that I was to meet someone there. The dinner was delicious seafood in broth. I didn't want to hurry, but I felt urgent. After dinner, I remembered that I needed to change my clothing. I found a suitcase of clothes and rummaged through it, finding a pale pink shift, jeans, a chocolate coat and brown boots. This would do. I changed and started the journey back, but it was nearing twelve and I could not remember how to get there.

Later, I was driving out of an industrial estate. Buildings ringed with scaffolding, men leaning on ladders, machinery roaring. I wanted to be somewhere quiet. I drove along the footpath, as though walking, and waited at the lights. My car diminished, becoming nothing more than a scooter or something similar. The protective walls of the car were gone. A man stood in the middle of a main road, conducting traffic around the roadworks. Car engines, trucks and heavy machinery; all loud. A young man working on the site, came over and leaned on me, his arms around me heavy and blackened with grease. I felt uncomfortable.

Later again, I was at a hairdresser's studio. I was going to have my hair done and I was looking at colour swatches, to choose a shade. Instead of swatches of hair, the colours were displayed in an intricate drawing, each aspect of the drawing a different colour. It was a complicated system as, say, part of a leaf, or a rabbit, might be a different shade of gold, with no label or information to clarify the shade. I was supposed to find a preferred shade among the hundreds, and name it.

past, glass, man and walking on knees

2010-05-15T14:07:00.001+10:00

I was in the neighbourhood where I grew up, across the road from my home, walking through the yards of our neighbours. I was the age I am now and I wondered if anyone would recognise me if they saw me. Apart from a secretive kiss in the shadows, against the wall of the house across the road, I cannot recall what I was doing; I am only aware of revisiting my past.
Next, I was in the bathroom of the family home. It was very changed and now seemed to be open to the public. I put my hand up to a broken window and tried to pull out the sharp shards so that no-one would lacerate themselves upon visiting. I extracted shard after shard, but somehow ended up with dozens of tiny splinters of glass in my hand. I then turned my attention to removing the glass splinters, red blood covering my hand and dripping onto the floor. Someone came in to use the bathroom. I asked them to wait while I cleaned it up a little. I washed my hands and scrubbed the sink and the floor where a puddle of blood had pooled.
Next, I was to meet a colleague who was visiting from overseas. He was a tall, rotund man, around my age. We were to go to lunch as part of business proceedings. I stepped into a toilet cubicle for a moment and he followed me in, assuming intimacy. I asked him to leave, which he did. Outside, my sister appeared and I told her about the man, saying that I thought I should cancel the meeting because of his actions and expectations. She was certain that, indeed, I should not proceed any further with him. I went to find him, but I could not see him. I travelled up and down escalators, climbed endless staircases and crossed vast expanses of empty space.
Next, I was walking on my knees through a crowd. I saw a lovely Chow Chow dog adorned with black jewellery and feathers, walking alongside a circus performer. I fell behind the person I was walking with, as she was standing properly upright, walking normally. I was struggling, each step awkward and labouring. I continued on and eventually sat to rest awhile. A young woman approached and I told her that I thought she had a beautiful face. She said she knew, and, in response to my surprise at her candidness, she said she felt that it was important to be honest and not falsely modest. There were other aspects about her person that she would improve upon, but she was perfectly happy with her face. She was at ease with herself.

black sea

2010-05-01T09:20:00.001+10:00

B and I were wading in a tranquil sea in the dead of night. There was no moon and it was so dark we could barely see the water let alone what lay beneath. Though the water felt silky and nothing stirred, we grew fearful and decided to climb onto a large pile of sticks for a reprieve. We hauled ourselves up and, as we did, we realised that it was actually was a huge stack of oyster racks, piled one on top of the other. Standing on it, it gave way, the entire structure tipping sideways, plummeting into the water. We jumped out as far from it as we could, diving under the water and swimming as fast as possible away from the looming structure, afraid of being pinned beneath it. I knew that should one of us be trapped, it would mean almost certain death. It was far to dark to find one another under the water. Fortunately, we both out-swam the crashing racks; they collapsed into the water, smashing the sea, disturbing the stillness of the night. We resumed wading and, along the way, B told me that she had an old black dog called China.
Suddenly, I was back on shore, working in a dark office. I was trying to finish some work so that we could go out and join a group of others who were having a fire down by the river. It grew late and I had not finished. B went without me, hoping I would join her. I continued working until, finally, hours later, I realised that I needed to go. I changed into warm clothing and went to find her, wishing that I had not worked for so long. I didn't find her by the river. I went back to the sea where we had waded earlier, but much had changed. There was construction everywhere. Buildings being built, roads, trucks and ships, all in action although it was, by now, quite late at night. I waded into the sea once again and, on the way out, saved a scruffy ginger dog - a terrier - from drowning. I picked him up and carried him, looking for B. Finally I found her sitting in what appeared to be a kind of bus shelter, floating on the shallow water, far out from the shore. She seemed to be dazed. Around her sat a few old people; no one seemed to be very aware of their surroundings. I urged her to come with me, telling her it was time to leave this place. She didn't stir. I put the ginger dog in my basket, and grabbed B's hands, pulling her off the seat. 'Come on,' I said. 'Come on.' I asked her where China was, her old black dog, but we couldn't see him. We waded together, back through the water, calling out for China.

audience

2010-05-01T09:01:00.001+10:00

I went to the theatre. The square stage was set low in the centre of the space, with four banks of raked seating flanking each side, rising high above the stage so that the audience could look down at the actors. My friend and I arrived late; the show had already begun. Three sides of the seating were reasonably full, with the fourth side empty. We crept along the space between the front row and the railing of the empty side, aiming to sit over in one of the more crowded banks. The railing, part of the wall that enclosed the bank of seats, and the entire wall below gave way, tipping over, falling like a tree toward the performers below. I was hanging onto the railing, falling with it, so I gathered all my strength and heaved the wall - as though it were a giant piece of cardboard in the wind - to fly over the actors and land beyond them on the far side of the stage. Danger was averted and the show went on. I climbed back up and found a seat on the opposite side of the stage to where my friend was now sitting. In fact, I discovered that I was sitting alone in the light box and, from there, I had a particularly good view of the audience. I watched my friend, and her behaviour - she heckled and laughed at the actors, stealing focus - made me pleased that I was not sitting with her after all. Rather than watching the show, I continued to watch the audience. I could see a person, renowned for brief love affairs, sitting with a very young woman. I hoped that this was not the latest fling as she was far too young. I then saw a dear friend of mine and caught her eye. She joined me in the light box and we cooked a meal together, separating fine slices of meat and laying them in a pan.

antique store

2010-05-01T08:45:00.001+10:00

We were in a vast antique store, wandering around, just before closing time. The woman who owned the store seemed keen to lock up and leave, but B had just spotted an elegant chest of drawers that she quite liked. In fact, she seemed so taken with the small cabinet that I wanted to buy it for her. I went to fetch the woman to ask her the price. She seemed a little put out. When we returned to the spot where the drawers had been, I could no longer recognise which of the furniture items it was. I called to B and she pointed out a set of drawers that, to my surprise, looked little like the drawers she had liked earlier. The woman told me the price and I followed her to the counter to pay, the drawers, now quite small, in tow. By the time I reached the counter, the drawers had transformed into a big dream catcher made from black horse hair. I looked at it, wondering why we were buying a dream catcher, but placed it on the counter and rummaged through my bag to find my purse. I couldn't find it and, again, the woman seemed to be losing patience. I said to her, jokingly, that I didn't like her either, that from the moment I saw her, I thought her to be disgusting. She looked at me and laughed and, instantly, we liked one another after all. During this time, although she wanted to shut the doors and close for the day, people kept wandering in, and I knew that the sooner B and I were gone, the sooner the woman could go home. I went to find B to see if she had my purse. I found her outside the store, leaning up against a wall, talked to a woman who we both know. Without saying hello to the woman, I interrupted them and asked for my purse, urgent to pay for the goods so that the woman could lock up and leave. I was aware that I was being a little rude. On the way back inside, walking up the stairs, I bumped into a young woman. She turned around and it was my dear friend A. We were so surprised to see one another, in an antique store in the middle of nowhere.

buried alive

2010-04-27T10:41:00.001+10:00

I was watching a television program about an abduction case. It was horrific, although the victim, a young woman, possibly still in her teens, had survived to tell the tale. The program flicked between interviews with the victim, reconstructed 'footage' of the happenings and interviews with the police who had investigated the crime. The perpetrator, a man of about sixty or older, had abducted the girl, and buried her alive in a vault beneath his house that was fitted with a bed, sparse furniture and even some decoration. In the interview, the young woman recollected how, sitting on the bed, which ran parallel to a wall under the low ceiling, with her back to the wall, she looked to her right and saw the cut-out pages of fairytales, particularly Red Riding Hood. The man had selected the most frightening of images of wolves and nightmarish characters to line the walls. She remembered how, in the dim light, she looked around, slowly realising by the strangeness of the air - its gradual depletion - that she had, indeed, been buried. The police talked of how they later found the skins of various reptiles in the man's possession as the camera panned over skin after skin of snakes and lizards. They mentioned that his mind had been affected by drug-use in the sixties. The program also showed a reconstruction of the man's wife and daughter arriving home on the day of the abduction, unaware of his harrowing deeds. They both went into his study, the room from which the underground chamber could be reached. I, somehow, went into the scene and slowly drank a glass of water in their kitchen, waiting for them to come out, knowing that they were about to discover that something was horribly wrong. They walked out of the study and into the kitchen area, stunned, and looked to me for help. I went with them, back into the study, to see the man lurching about. He had a bleeding cut on his forehead from where his wife had hit him with something, and he was ranting about spitting, saying that it was wrong to spit. He staggered toward me and, although frightened and repulsed, I grabbed his hands to steady him, hoping to calm him and sit him back down. He was clearly out of his mind. The worst and most sickening thing about it was that I recognised the man, though now he was disturbingly changed.

old woman, trespassers and snake

2010-04-24T08:32:00.001+10:00

I was at once visiting an old woman and I was the woman. She/I lived in a terrace house in the suburbs. We were lying down, sleeping, on an enclosed verandah that jutted out into the front garden. From there, with eyes half-closed, we could see the passers by. Drowsily I noticed that someone was walking down the driveway and going through the garage to the back yard. A few more people, all carrying things, followed. At first I assumed that they were coming to tend the yard, but as more and more people arrived, I began to grow anxious. With difficulty, I roused myself from slumber and asked a few of the young people what they were doing. Were they using my property as a short-cut to somewhere else? No, they answered. They were here to have a party and, it seemed, that they had a party in my yard on a regular basis. I realised that the old woman had lacked the energy to prevent it. She was far too tired, far too old to protect herself. Now that I was awake, I became angry. I marched through the garage and into the backyard, to see a horde of people setting up speakers, making fires, putting bottles on ice. I scanned the crowd and could see that there was one young woman who appeared to have the most authority among them. She was setting up a table at the entrance to the yard. I confronted her, telling her that they were no longer welcome here, that they were not to party here any longer. I had moved in and now owned the house. She seemed to care very little and I could see that it was going to take more than my word to evict the trespassers from our home. For this night, we resigned ourselves to the circumstances and went upstairs. I looked around the rooms, as though I had never been there before, though I now lived there. The house needed work. The walls, the furniture, everything needed some care. I sat with the woman and toyed with a few things that were lying on the table; among them, a sock stuffed with something, and, sewn onto the sock, a face. I stroked the sock for a moment, as though it was a pet. The thing inside the sock moved and hissed. The woman off-handedly remarked that perhaps I should not have done that as inside the sock was a snake. Sure enough, a short, purple snake emerged from the sock and eyed me, hissing. It slid over and tucked itself in the crook of my arm. I told the woman I was not particularly good with snakes and asked her to remove it. She did, and the snake disappeared under the table. I was edgy, thinking that the snake would dart out from somewhere and bite me. Instead, the snake appeared, pushing a branch bearing flowers, which it left at my feet. It looked up at me, retreated, and again came back with another gift. I was still tentative and the snake left to get something else. When it returned, it had transformed into a creature, still purple, that was more similar in shape and size to a goanna. I was somewhat relieved.

unprepared

2010-04-12T10:38:00.001+10:00

I visited a friend who was starring in a theatre production, staged by a national theatre company. There was a very minor role that needed filling for the matinee performance the following day. My friend asked me if I would mind doing it, as it required no speaking or rehearsal, just a brief appearance on stage, following her, like a lost child. I was wary, but wanted to help her. The next day, I arrived at the theatre well before the opening time. I donned my costume in the dressing room and then waited for my friend to arrive. No one told me when I would be required, but I trusted that my friend would arrive soon and would tell me what to do. The show started and still she didn't arrive. I paced the floor backstage, growing increasingly anxious. As the huge crowd applauded - the curtains closing, marking the end of the first act - my friend arrived. I saw her walking, self-assured, around the rear of the building to the backstage area. Once there, she set about readying herself - makeup, hair and costume. I asked her what I would need to do in my minor role. She handed over a script and, suddenly, I was frightened. Where yesterday she had told me there was no speaking required, I now realised this was indeed a speaking role, with far more acting needed. I had not rehearsed, I had never seen the show and I had not acted in years. She continued to remain frustratingly nonchalant. I tried to wrestle information from her. Where were the props I was to use, how was the stage set, what was I to do? The script informed me that I was a young boy, pressed to make a choice between remaining loyal to someone, or signing a cheque that somehow sealed the fate of another actor. I was to sign the cheque, have a conversation, appeal to the audience and then leave the stage. I did not know where the cheque was or how I could possibly learn the script in the few minutes before we were due on stage. I was furious with my friend for misleading me and now failing to properly prepare me for the role. I considered walking out, but didn't want to let down the rest of the cast and crew. I realised I had to go on stage and entirely improvise the part, in front of an audience of a thousand or more.

home

2010-04-04T09:44:00.001+10:00

B and I were sleeping in the bedroom of what seemed to be a spacious caravan or a boat. In any case, I had the feeling that our home was relocatable, that our current situation was temporary. I woke and looked through the window directly behind our bed head. I could see that we were parked on a road leading to the beach, only about one hundred metres away. The tide was high and giant turquoise waves rose and curled toward the shore. I watched as a surfer braved the mammoth waves, and then saw an enormous shadow riding the wave behind him. It was so vast, dwarfing the man on the board, that I knew it could only be a blue whale, the largest animal on our planet. I woke B to show her as yet another wave rose high above the sea bed, another titanic shadow revealed in the curl of the wave. The waves towered above us, crashing closer and closer until our home was carried by the water, rocking back and forth and butting against the rocks. We were at the mercy of the ocean and cowered under the massive shadows of the whales, which endangered our very lives.

gift of spite

2010-03-24T10:02:00.001+10:00

B and I were in my bedroom in my family home. My sister was in her room, opposite. A delivery man arrived with two bunches of flowers - one enormous bunch of soft pink roses, perhaps six dozen or more, and one small bunch of hot pink lilies or something similar, about four stems. He gave the roses to my sister and the lilies to me, and left. Though the flowers were extremely beautiful, incredibly so, we received them with trepidation. We knew that they were from someone, a woman, who resented us and that this was her way of communicating her ill will. Attached to my flowers was a small gift-wrapped parcel. I opened it to reveal three pairs of silver earrings, each pair bearing engravings depicting scenes from our last interaction, some years before. Again, though they were exceptionally intricate and precious, I felt very uneasy. My sister's bunch of roses hid a similar parcel containing fine jewellry; this time, a set of silver rings, each banded with diamonds. The beauty of her gift was so overwhelming that I almost forgot who had sent it. I tried on her rings, too large for any but my largest finger, and admired them glinting in the light.

how to float

2010-03-22T10:41:00.001+10:00

I was living in the family home where I lived as a teenager. I was a student at a university, of sorts; a school where very alternative disciplines were taught, among them flying, levitation & floating, complex business for arcane arts, total body integration, and much more. I recall very little now about the teachings, but I remember the final week of the third year of study, when I suddenly understood the lessons, the years of learning, and knew which of the disciplines I wished to master. A moment of dawning occurred while I was dressing in my bedroom, so, mid way through putting on some clothes, I raced out of my room, wearing only black swimmers, and ran through the rain to the campus. My body felt fit and powerful and I had no qualms of self-consciousness, though I ran past crowds of people. Inside the building, I quietly went from room to room, careful not to disturb the classes, searching for a particular teacher - the teacher of levitation and floating - to tell her about my breakthrough. She was a beautiful woman with silver-grey hair. She was, at that time, teaching a physical integration class, so I waited impatiently outside the room.

travelling through the pipes

2010-03-03T09:09:00.003+10:00

We were standing in the shower of a bathroom, in a downstairs unit of an old apartment block. Somehow, we were to travel up through the pipes to a unit upstairs. We sent some of our belongings up ahead of us and then we entered the pipes, shot upward and emerged in the shower of the designated apartment. This shower was above an old, pink enamel bath, enclosed by a plastic shower curtain. I hopped out of the bath, thrilled that our journey had succeeded, and waded through the items we had sent before us, which had spilled out of the bath and over the tiled bathroom floor. I opened the bathroom door, about to walk into the living room, but I heard the television and realised that someone was home. I quickly closed the door and ushered B back into the shower. I collected as many of our things as I could and jumped into the bath, closing the shower curtain around us. Through the curtain, I saw a young man enter the room, having heard us trying to get away. He glanced at our remaining things lying on the floor, walked straight over to the bath and grabbed the curtain in his fist, about to wrench it open. We held it closed and, although we could see through it and watch his response, he could not see us. I called out: Please don't open the curtain, I'm simply having a bath. He retreated, but said he would be back. B and I tried to send our things back down through the pipes, desperately trying to recall how we had morphed to fit in ourselves. Through the curtain, I could see the man. He had closed the bathroom door behind him and was again approaching. Suddenly, it worked. The pipes received us, opening up like a tunnel or a black hole. We travelled downward and, soon, B and I were back in our own unit, again standing in the shower, surrounded by our things.

birds

2010-03-03T08:56:00.003+10:00

I was sitting high up on the front verandah of my first house, the family home where I lived until I was eleven. The cement was old and cool under my legs and the old metal railing enclosed the space. Trees stood tall around the verandah, so that some branches reached over, almost to where I sat. An elegant white, blue and black bird, as big as a hen, flew down onto the verandah and sat quite close to me, close enough that I could reach out and stroke her silky tail feathers. I was amazed at her trust. A pair of crows circled around and perched on a nearby branch, content to observe the scene. Then another pair of birds arrived. The male was magnificent: ruby red, emerald green and sapphire blue designs embroidered his plumage and his chest was broad and strong. His beautiful mate was soft grey and white, a smaller and more delicate bird. She flew onto my right shoulder and nestled her body into the curve of my neck. I placed my hand upon her and felt the light weight of her body. I immediately understood that she wasn't well and that her mate, who watched me intently, was entrusting her to me, that he had brought her here to regain her strength.

neglect and spiders

2010-02-27T11:11:00.003+10:00

I am at my grandparents' home, in the suburb where I grew up. As in real life, they are no longer alive, and the house is run down. I am staying overnight, perhaps longer, and it is dark - time for bed. I am walking around the house, shutting windows and doors, somewhat afraid of what lies beyond the walls of the house. The house itself is in semi-darkness and each corner, each doorway poses a new ordeal: is there someone hiding in the shadows? I walk out onto the enclosed back verandah and notice that I have left the back door unlocked and the window leading into the bathroom gapes open - a black hole. I steel myself and pull the window sash firmly down. From here, I can also see that the laundry windows are open. I step toward the dark doorway, but find myself caught in spiders' webs. Ten or more spiders have built webs that drape over the entrance to the laundry, all non venomous species, but large and frightening just the same. Spiders clutch at my skin. I backtrack, extracting myself from the webs, shaking the last of the spiders free, shuddering at the memory of their touch. I close the back door and then notice Snuffy, my grandparents' dog, sitting inside on the verandah. She looks neglected, her hair bedraggled and wet, her countenance sad. I thought she was dead. I reopen the door to send her outside, down to her bed, but as I am closing the door, I see her plead with me, lifting one paw into the air. I cannot send her outside. I open the door and bend over to pet her. I feel her oldness and her vulnerability and I want to take care of her. It is too heartbreaking and I wake.

spiders

2010-02-27T10:48:00.004+10:00

It is the middle of the night and I am going home. Home is my family home, where I have not lived for over twenty years. I am late and I know my mother will be worried; I hope she is not waiting up. I am walking down the street towards the house, urgent to arrive. As I approach the house, I can see that the lights are on. I check the letterbox and there is mail for me - a lot of letters crammed into the box, dated back months, even years. I particularly notice a hand-addressed yellow envelope and I am keen to open it. I go to climb the stairs to the front door, but there is a large spider in its web blocking the way. It is too dark to negotiate a way around the web - I am not certain where it begins and where it ends - so I make my way around to the other side of the verandah, to the other entry stairs. There is more light here and I can see more webs and more big spiders, blocking my way in. There are giant Gold Orb-Weaving spiders and spindly St Andrew's Cross spiders, all passive in their webs. I break a stick off a small tree in the garden and wave it around and around, winding the spiders into their own webs, clearing a path to my home. Later, once inside, I am holding the yellow envelope and I tell my family about the spiders. They notice a spider bite on my hand; I had not noticed it before. There are two punctures on my palm, quite large, most definitely from a spider. I do not appear to be poisoned.

strangers

2010-02-17T14:03:00.003+10:00

I was living with my parents in the house we built when I was young. My bed was in their bedroom - 'the main bedroom', as we called it - and their bed was in an adjoining room, where the verandah was in real life. It was the middle of the night and, instead of sleeping, I was walking as quietly as possible around the house, looking at my artwork. I was trying to price the various pieces for sale, doing my best to set a good price with which I was happy, but that I knew would move the work. I noticed that the frames of several paintings needed repair, that the work inside had slipped. After making some decisions, I walked through the dark to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. The mattress was on the floor, as though I was there only temporarily. I noticed that it was warmer than it had been when I first arrived some months before, and that I no longer needed the quilt; it was heaped in the corner. Suddenly I noticed a light - torchlight - beaming about the room. I hid under the quilt and the intruders obviously thought there was no one home, for they immediately began talking loudly and switching on lights downstairs. They flicked on the television and the stereo and the house, in the dead of night, was filled with ugly noise. I went into my parents' room; they were waking, not sure what was going on. They were each holding a cigarette and a packet of tobacco was lying on the bed. They looked surprised, as was I, as neither of them have ever smoked. They put out the butts and we went downstairs to see what was going on. I went first, my temper flaring as I saw two people - a young man and his girlfriend - taking food out of the refrigerator, helping themselves. I raced up to the man, whose horrible energy betrayed the kind of person he was, and shouted at him: This is not a share house, this is a family home. You have no right to be here. Take yourselves out of here. Get out. Instead, he grabbed me around the throat and pushed me up against a wall. I could feel how strong and wiry he was, how pumped up with aggression, and I knew that I was in an extremely dangerous situation. The girl kept laughing, louder and louder. Her mouth was open, screaming with laughter. My parents stood to one side and I knew my father was about to intervene.
Later, I was on a beach. I could see my family (my extended family) swimming in the water, but I sat up on the sand. Finally, my father came to fetch me. We walked down the sand and stepped into the water, which stretched out under a ceiling of rock - a cave of sorts - before continuing on past the cave, out to the ocean. Under the arch of rock, the water was in semi-darkness. It was quite scary, not being able to see properly. I felt bits of weed and other creatures brush past me, and I was not sure that I liked it here. My father assured me that it was alright. After a while, someone came to usher us out. It was another family's turn to swim in the sea. We filed out and up the sand, while a Maori family filed down the sand and into the water. They were also going to give a small performance for their extended family, later in the day, and I wondered if we were to stay to watch. I saw a woman sitting to one side, someone I have not seen for twenty years and whom I was excited to see. I ran over to say hello, but she didn't recognise me. I reminded her of our connection, but she was entirely unenthusiastic. I wished her well and walked away; as I went, I could hear her laughing behind me.

averting disaster

2010-02-16T13:28:00.004+10:00

I was in my bedroom, toying with what appeared to be a paper shredder. There was a long slot at the front designed to receive paper before shredding it and depositing it in a tray. I had pushed my hand into the slot and was now desperately trying to extract it, hoping my fingers would not be mangled. My brother appeared in the doorway, but he was many years younger than his real-life age; in fact, he was just a child. I called to him and asked him to help. He quickly checked that the power was off and then we pulled my hand free of the shredder. I picked him up (he was only small) and he wrapped both his arms and legs around me. I kissed him on the head and told him I loved him, rocking him gently.
The scene skipped forward and we were both in a giant building made of ice. We understood that there was a tremendous amount of water stored behind the walls and ceiling, and that, though safe right now, the situation was quite precarious. Someone was singing and we moved about the space, gliding around as though on an ice rink. Suddenly, the person singing punctured the ceiling with what I think was a knitting needle, cracking the layer of ice between the enormous body of water above and everyone below. Panic. Everyone wanted to get out of the building at once. My brother (still a child) and I rushed to the nearest exit and began sliding on our bottoms down the narrow corridor of ice, aware that the wave of water behind us was mounting. The line of people sliding with us started and stopped, people getting stuck in crevices and snared by ice build-ups. When I saw that my brother was struggling, I started to sing a song about letting things happen, allowing life to take its course and energy to flow. Somehow it helped him, and others around us, and we all slid effortlessly through the rest of the tunnel, emerging into the daylight, safe at the end.

horror

2010-02-15T09:38:00.003+10:00

I recall very little of the dream, except that I was both watching the goings on as though watching a film and, at times, in it. A grim group of men gathered in a hut in the woods, all big, powerful men, dressed in 'rural' clothing such as flannelette shirts, jeans, strong boots and thick jackets. The men had faced recent and ongoing hardship; they battled one problem after another and it was wearing thin. Their group had dwindled, a man killed, another maimed, another suicided, and they were buckling under the relentless pressure. Finally, the horrors of the last few days or weeks seemed to be over and they were, though now few, poised to leave the hut and go about their lives. I both watched them and was one of them: a man called Todd of great stature, with fair hair and enormous shoulders. The group of remaining men were standing around an old wooden table in the one-roomed hut, and I watched myself as Todd lift my bright blue flannelette shirt over my head, preparing to leave. At that moment, another man, who was chairing the meeting, interrupted the flow of his speech and asked, 'Where's Todd?' I had left my vantage from inside Todd's body and was now only watching the events unfold. Todd, who was still standing on the far side of the table, sighed and pulled his shirt back on, dreading yet another disaster. The sound of chopping wood was heard and the men opened the door and went outside to see what was going on. The view shifted to the source of the chopping sound: Todd was standing aside a tall wooden fence, wielding an axe; he had chopped his own head off. His body was still moving, just as a chicken continues to run after losing its head. His headless body continued to chop, one blow after another, the axe sailing through the air, hacking into the fence.

the way things should be

2010-02-13T09:15:00.005+10:00

I was at the home of my closest friend, taking a shower in her old bathroom at the back of the house. While showering, I looked out the window, watching the goings on of various people in the backyard. I felt the line of my body, aware that time was passing. After, I walked through the house and saw two small pictures, cut out of magazines and stuck up on the corner of an old sideboard in the kitchen. One picture was of her husband and the other was of a man I admired, twenty years ago, in the years that my friend and I lived together. I realised that she had kept the pictures all these years.
Later, we had been to a formal event for which we had all dressed in our best clothes. The women had all donned beautiful dresses and elaborate jewels. I was now putting my clothes and necklaces away, smoothing the folds of fabric and untangling strings of beads. I came across a necklace and one matching earring that had been made from some of my most treasured jewellery; two necklaces, one consisting of several strands of black crystals, the other several strings of pink crystals, had been unthreaded then rethreaded so that it was now one necklace with both black and pink crystals. In the same way, two earrings, one adorned with black crystals, the other with pink, had been dismantled and restructured to make one earring, heavy with both black and pink crystals. I was dismayed as I didn't like the new jewellery. Where before the pieces were elegant and spare, they were now garish and overstated. My mother was in the same room, putting away her formal attire. I asked her who had done this. She suggested that it may have been one of my friends who had also gone to the ball, but I couldn't think of who. Then we realised that it had been my mother's dear friend, who, we recollected, had worn the jewellery and a matching pink dress. I was offended that she would take something beautiful and precious of mine and, without my permission, rework it to suit her needs, to fit her idea of how things should be. I determined to ask her to undo her work, to restore the pieces to their original form.

rabbits

2010-02-04T10:37:00.003+10:00

Rabbits. I walked through the door, visiting an acquaintance, and I was greeted by rabbits. Several of them twitched and hopped about, each a different colour and size. An excessively fluffy rabbit with caramel and white silky fur stood on its back legs and put its front paws on my legs, just as a dog would. For all its softness, its little claws were slightly painful on my skin. I gently pulled its paws from my leg and it latched onto my wrist. Again, I removed its paws, noticing that it had more than one claw for each toe; in fact, it had many, many small claws, each pale and creamy but extremely sharp. I ventured inside and the various rabbits huddled at my feet, moving with me as I walked about the room.

the roof of my home

2010-01-31T09:46:00.003+10:00

I was looking at the internal structure of a roof, at the metal beams that held it in place. Although I was not familiar with the house underneath, I knew it to be my home. The metal beams formed a pyramid shape: a square around the bottom with four beams reaching up and in from each of the corners, meeting in the middle point at the top. Each length of beam was actually made up of smaller beam sections, interlocking, so that the structure was, theoretically, quite sturdy. I was up inside the structure, looking around, and, from this vantage, I could see that there were three pieces of the beams missing, all from different parts of the structure and each a different length. I knew that without these three pieces, the roof was both incomplete and unstable. I climbed down and searched the house for the missing pieces. I found all three in different rooms of the house. The longest piece I found last, tucked away behind the door of the bedroom cupboard. I then set about putting each beam piece in place, the two shorter pieces first and then, most challengingly, the longest beam.

journey to a new home

2010-01-27T11:28:00.004+10:00

I was on a bus, travelling through an unfamiliar city, although I understood that I had made this journey many times before and that I had spent great lengths of time on board, even living on the bus. I also knew that this was one of the last times I would travel this route. I gathered my bags and collected my personal belongings, some of which were strewn about, under seats and such. Approaching the stop where I was to alight, I scanned the bus, thinking that I may have to come back to thoroughly search out any remaining belongings. I thanked the bus driver and he leaned forward, pressing a gold coin into my palm. I looked at the coin, noticing how incredible the designs on either side were and how unusual the shape. I leaned forward and pressed my nose and forehead against his for a moment before a grass green butterfly flew between us as I stepped back. I left the bus and walked to where my friend lived in a huge, old white house. There seemed to be quite a lot of people loitering about the grounds and in the rooms. I felt unsure of what to do, being quite new to this place. I looked into great pots of food that were being prepared and thought that this was an area where I could contribute once I had settled in. I followed my friend outside and around the corner of the house to where the outside tap was. The mud under the tap was extremely slippery and we both began to slide down the hill, alongside the house until we shot out into the back yard. The yard was filled with big mud puddles and we continued sliding. I was wearing my long black boots so my feet were quite protected. I concentrated on maintaining my balance and held out an arm for my friend - who was not wearing any shoes - to hang onto. In this way, we slid down the sloping backyard, past a couple who were relaxing on the grass, through deep puddles nearly reaching my knees, and then coming to a halt on the other side of the house.

ticket and man

2010-01-26T10:35:00.003+10:00

I was journeying home. I had been away for some time and now it was time to return. I boarded a bus and purchased a ticket from the driver. It was quite expensive and, although I asked him to select my cheque account, he selected savings. I knew that I did not have the money to cover the cost and that I would be fined for overdrawing. I was a little annoyed but told him not to worry. He wrote out a receipt and I left the bus, aiming to return when it was due to leave. I wandered down through an underground terminal, searching for something to eat as I had not eaten since early in the morning and it was now night. I found a kiosk that was closing so I quickly took a big bottle of water from the refrigerator and stood in line. The lights of the kiosk flicked on and off. As I waited, I scanned the shelves, but there was little food left. A man in front of me in the queue with longish brown hair was playing up, teasing the person behind the counter and creating gentle havoc. He scooped out the few remaining hot chips onto a plate and then handled them before throwing them back into the counter tray. Though the chips had been touched, I was hungry and bought the remaining hot chips. They weren't great but they would do. Suddenly the man, his friend and the few people in the shop started to head down the stairs of the terminal, outside and down a hill. I too sensed that the bus was ready and hurried after them. As I reached the man, I started running and grabbed his hand, pulling him after me. We gained speed, running incredibly fast and leapt up and over the fence that blocked our path with great ease. Landing, we laughed, sitting down on the grass. I started searching through my bag for my ticket, but couldn't find it. I found numerous receipts, notes and brochures, but not the ticket. He too rummaged through his bag. Embarrassingly, I pulled out a wad of papers stuck together with stray chewing gum, but, somewhat comfortingly, he too found papers in his bag glued together by chewing gum.

pink flower

2010-01-08T09:48:00.004+10:00

Again, I was with a lot of people, camping in a big building and this time we were all studying. Again, I went into the next room and found my friend there, asleep with a pink flower in her hair, this time a hibiscus.

camping and pink flowers

2010-01-08T09:36:00.003+10:00

I was with a large group of people, camping in a huge building. Our sleeping mats lined the floor forming a grid of bedding. I ventured outside onto the verandah, and sat on a high stool. A man, who last time I saw him was a teenage boy, ran his hand over me and I smiled at him, telling him that I had always allowed him to get away with too much. A second man, who I also knew in my teenage years, copied the first man's actions, but with him I felt angry. I told him never to touch me again, not to assume such intimacy. He appeared surprised, presented me with two long-stemmed yellow roses and justified his behaviour saying that we were on a date. I could not recall arranging a date with him and told him so. I went inside and took the flowers with me, but I forgot about them, later finding them on the ground under some clothes, their petals damaged and browned. I went into the next auditorium where hundreds more people were preparing to sleep. I found two close friends there, their beds next to one another, and I felt a little envious seeing as I was alone in the other room. They had arranged beautiful pink frangipanis in garlands around their heads. I wished that there were enough flowers so that I could wear a garland too.

sea creatures

2010-01-07T16:58:00.004+10:00

Walking through knee-deep water, ice blue and crystal clear. The body of water, though vast, seemed to be indoors, under a giant roof. Swimming in the water were all kinds of sea life: fish of many sizes and colours, small sharks, striped sea-snakes, neon jelly fish, florid sea horses, and nebulous life forms moving through coral and waving sea grasses.
Later, I was swimming in the ocean, way out at sea. The sky was grey and the water was immeasurably deep and dark. Fear crept into my body, rising within me. I scanned the water for shadows, sensing danger. With my mounting fear, I rose out of the water and found myself sitting on the edge of an old wooden jetty. From there, I could see several huge shadows moving through the water and I realised that I was surrounded by sharks and killer whales. The grey sharks remained submerged, zigzagging menacingly beyond the point at which the waves were breaking, whilst the black and white Orca jumped out of the waves, diving and dancing. Suddenly a killer whale leapt out of the water at the jetty, but a dolphin leapt with it and knocked it away from me, protecting me. I was delighted and, as the dolphin leapt out of the water again, I reached out and touched its skin, feeling it briefly as it descended back into the sea. A third time it reared up out of the water, but this time I could see that it had changed shape, that it was now a predatory shark, perhaps a great white, although not fully grown.

queue

2009-12-30T11:34:00.003+10:00

I was at an awards ceremony and I was taller and thinner than I am now, with long red hair. I was so pleased with how I looked that I kept glancing at myself in a nearby mirror, admiring my new locks and figure. I was wearing a long silvery-grey dress and dark-rimmed spectacles. I hunted through my handbag to sort my belongings and transfer what I needed to another bag. Whilst I was doing this, the crowded auditorium was suddenly plunged into darkness and a voice came over the loudspeaker advising everyone to pack their things and go to the next point. I was back in my own body. I didn't properly hear our instructions and was immediately in confusion. I knew I needed to gather my belongings, which I did. It seemed to take me a long time. I then followed the thinning crowd through the darkness, filing through the door and into what looked like an underground terminal. The last of us to leave were lined up in queues before a ticket booth, buying tickets to travel somewhere. I was not sure which line to join and felt that time was running out. I felt relieved when I saw a friend of mine walking toward the queue, and then disappointed as she walked past me, too urgent to reach the front of the line. She pushed in right at the front. I didn't feel I could follow her so I joined the end of the queue. As I neared the front, my dear friend B found me and joined me. I felt so grateful for her company; she would know what was happening. At the desk, I bought a ticket. I had to hand over my large bag and was allowed some carry-on luggage. I was worried that I had lost my phone, but B called it and it rang in my bag. It was there after all.
Time rewound. I was sorting out my belongings again, transfering my things from one bag to another, in the darkness of the auditorium. This time, though little changed, I felt less confused. I wanted to make the bags as light as possible so that I could keep my luggage with me, and I needed to wear as many practical clothes as I could, knowing that we were being moved to somewhere like a prison camp. And this time, I checked that I had my phone with me. My bags felt almost empty. I walked through the auditorium and again lined up in the queue, waiting to buy a ticket. When I reached the front of the queue, the woman told me the cost of the ticket. It seemed to be a lot and I wondered how I was to afford this if I had to buy a ticket repeatedly. I looked in my wallet and found that my bank card was missing. I called to B; surely she had it after we used it to buy the tickets last time. I saw her walking into a toilet cubicle, but this time she did not respond other than tell me to wait. I waited, but I lost my place in the queue.

flying down the stairs

2009-12-19T14:09:00.003+10:00

I was again on a road that skirted the beach, high up, as though on top of a very tall cliff. An extremely steep and long set of old cement stairs ran all the way from the top to the bottom, perhaps five-hundred stairs or more. I began to run down the stairs as fast as I could and someone beside me ran too, racing me to the bottom. My feet were moving so fast that they became a blur. I was amazed that I could run that fast and not stumble. I wanted to win the race to the bottom and my friend was so fast that I decided to leap into the air and fly down. I jumped and continued to travel down the stairs, hovering above them only a few inches. To show off a little, I lifted my legs up into an almost cross-legged position and placed my hands above my knees, curling my fingers so that the thumb and index fingers touched - the lotus pose. In this position, I flew even faster through the air, descending the stairs at great speed. Nearing the bottom, I stretched out my body so that I dived toward the sand, dipping down and then, at the last moment, ascending again, so that I didn't hit the ground with any force. I floated back down and came to rest on the sand.

fair boy

2009-12-19T13:55:00.003+10:00

I was travelling along a road that ran alongside the beach, high up, as though on the edge of a tall cliff. I was with a blonde toddler who was on a skateboard, and I was running to keep up with him. Suddenly he turned off the road, hoisted the skateboard onto his little shoulders, and ran down a flight of stairs. I ran after him, concerned that he would lose his foothold or become unbalanced by the weight of the board and fall. The old cement stairs twisted and turned so that he was just out of view. I passed someone I knew from my teenage years and said hello, but had to keep moving on so that I could follow the boy. As I ran, I approached a landing area somewhere in the middle of the steep flight of stairs and I saw the youngster open the rock lid of a secret chamber in a wall and climb inside, obviously hoping to play a trick on me. I was terribly anxious about his safety, thinking of the creatures that might hide in such a damp and dark space and hoping that he would be able to get out. When I reached the wall, I opened the rock lid and could see his fair head ducked down inside, but the neck of the opening had contracted and he was now too big to climb out - his head was larger than the hole. I ran my hands over the wall, desperate to find another way to pull him out, terrified that he would be entombed. I found an opening further up the wall and could see that there was a small tunnel, only just big enough for him to crawl through.

brothers

2009-12-17T09:47:00.003+10:00

I was in the family home that we built, where I lived as a teenager. I was taking care of two children, one only a toddler, the other - his brother - in his early teens. I heard a noise and sensed that something was amiss. I went to where the ghost of my grandmother was standing next to the older boy, looking out the window, and saw the younger boy hanging precariously off an aerial that jutted out from the wall under the window, at right angles to the house. The older boy, upon seeing me, risked his own safety by hanging out the window, balancing his weight on the aerial and pulling his brother back inside. I took the baby from him and cradled him in my arms. The older boy looked sulky and went upstairs into his bedroom. The ghost of my grandmother turned to me and told me that she had seen what happened, that the older boy had pushed the toddler out the window, trying to harm him. She disappeared. I went upstairs, the younger boy now asleep, curled up against my body, and went into the bedroom of his brother. I asked him why he wanted to hurt his brother. He didn't answer for a while and then flatly denied it. I lectured him about it until, finally, he confessed and said he was sorry. I told him he was a good boy. The little one woke up and, seeing his brother, began to cry. He was scared. The older boy leaned over and hugged him, quietening him, however, from my vantage above, I could see by the way that the way he touched his baby brother, the way he looked at him, he was insincere.

things not as they should be

2009-12-15T09:30:00.003+10:00

I was visiting my parents. They lived in a home unfamiliar to me, a one-storey brick house with a level back yard. I was attempting to do my washing, but the washing machine appeared to be full. I investigated further and could see that under the layer of clothing on top of the load were a lot of things that simply should not have been in the washing machine, particularly grass clippings and sticks. I skimmed the clothes off the surface, piling them into a basket, and then fished handfuls of the grass and foliage out of the tub. Once all the grass was removed, I could see more clothes stuffed underneath, floating in muddy, grimy water. I looked around to find some rubber gloves, unwilling to dip my bare hands into the water.
Next, I was in the kitchen with my parents. The window looked directly into the neighbours' kitchen window next door and I could see our prime minister inside, visiting with them. He was happy and laughing, and soon the walls between the two homes melded and he was in our kitchen. He asked me if I could edit an essay for him later this week. I told him that I was booked up with other work and would not be able to fit it in. He said he would reward me handsomely and so I said that I would look into rearranging my schedule. He told me that he would have been an editor in another life and I answered that I imagine we all have other lives we could have lived, that I could have pursued dancing or singing and that I had studied them at university twenty years earlier. We talked for a while and I fell asleep.
Later I woke, opening my eyes very slowly, doing my best to orientate myself. I appeared to be in one of the bedrooms of the family home, although, again, it was unfamiliar to me. The contents of my bag were scattered around the bed, some items littering the sheet around my head. I could not recall what I had done to arrive here and wondered if I had been drunk. I looked under the bed and could see a bottle of perfume that I had obviously brought with me, but I noticed that it was much larger than I recalled it to be. I wondered if I was really awake or if I was still dreaming. As I looked around - at the room, at my belongings, and at my own body - I became increasingly convinced that none of this was real, that I was, in fact, still asleep and that this was part of a dream. I tried to wake up, but still I sat on the bed in a strange bedroom, surrounded by my things.

learning

2009-12-12T09:47:00.004+10:00

I swam in the ocean through the night, arriving on the coast of Sydney in the early hours just before dawn. I found my brother on the shore - he was much younger than in waking life, little more than a child. I took his hand and led him through sandstone passages and down rock stairs, taking us on a walk through a reknowned university. He marvelled at the architecture, at the golden stone, and at the early morning light reflected on the walls. Already, the grounds teamed with life. Students walked along the corridors, across green-grassed squares, heading somewhere. My brother wanted to go there, to learn. I pressed my forehead against his and we could feel the vibration of energy, of thought, our skulls buzzing.

family chapel

2009-12-12T09:33:00.003+10:00

It was about twenty years ago. Everyone in my dream, including me, was much younger than they are now - twenty years or so younger. I was at my grandparents' house, looking out the front window. I could see the street stretching up the hill, leading up to where my parents lived at the top. An old model dark blue station wagon raced into view, appearing on the crest of the hill and crusing rapidly down, coasting all the way in reverse. I watched it with excitement as it backed into the driveway and parked in the garage under the house. I knew by the daring driving that it must be my uncle. I heard my grandfather go down into the garage to check over the car, and the rest of the family waited for my uncle, aunty and cousins to come upstairs into the house. I checked my hair and lipstick in the mirror, eager to see them. They arrived; my cousins were young children again and I hugged them to me. We went into a room, much like a family chapel, that had a section for sitting and praying, and an alter section. The entire family sat on the ground as the room sloped dangerously down toward the alter. The wall behind the alter was painted a dark red. I was nursing twin cousins (who don't exist in waking life), admiring their pumpkin-coloured curls, whilst doing my best to control my growing anxiety about the sloping floor, fearing that I would slide down and disappear.

lesson: the power of the mind

2009-11-18T09:56:00.005+10:00

I was on stage with a performer. She was a magician of sorts and I was there to assist her in her act. I could not see the audience as the lights bearing down on the stage were so intensely bright, they curtained anything behind from view. I could, however, hear the audience and, because of the vast size of the stage and because they were quite vocal, I guessed that the audience was large. I felt no fear, rather I was intrigued by the woman's act. She threw a balloon in the air, toying with it for a moment, perhaps to establish that it was indeed the weight and buoyancy of a common balloon. She then batted the balloon to me. I went to bat it back, but at her command and just before it reached me, it stopped and floated straight up into the air. I could vaguely hear the crowd respond, although my attention was mostly on the occurrences onstage. I looked at the floor to see if there was something - an air vent, a camouflaged fan - that would have changed the course of the balloon so sharply. There was only an indent of someone's heel in the old wooden floor boards. The balloon descended and I caught it, felt it for a moment, and batted it back to the magician. I noticed that my arms felt very weak and that I was barely able to muster the strength to hit the balloon with enough force to send it to her. She put the balloon aside and produced a ball about the size of a basketball. Again, she toyed with the ball for a moment to communicate to the audience its weight and bouncing capacity. She threw the ball at me and, this time, I caught it. I attempted to throw it back, but, again, my arms felt as though they had no strength. Even raising the ball to prepare to throw it was extremely difficult. I lamely tossed the ball back in her direction. It bounced only a few feet in front of me and more or less rolled along the ground to her feet. She looked at me, scooped up the ball and again threw it to me. I caught it, awkwardly and with much effort, thrice feeling the utter weakness of my arms. I took a deep breath and concentrated. I thought that if I could only think it, if I could draw on my inner resources and use my mind to overcome this state, I would be able to throw the ball. I closed my eyes, focused on my rising strength, visualised it growing and saw my body powerful, and threw the ball. It shot past the magician, across the vast stage and off the other side. The magician spun around to face the ball, stretched her arms out in front of her and, using her mental energy, drew the ball back into her hands. The audience cheered and I was impressed by her ability. I realised that it was a lesson on how to use the power of your mind.

accidental tattoo

2009-11-18T09:48:00.003+10:00

I noticed a skin irritation and wanted to investigate the cause. Could it be something around the house? I searched until I found a particular blanket that had recently been to the dry cleaners. Ah ha! A chemical. We decided to conduct a small experiment and isolated each of the chemicals used in the process of dry cleaning. We did a patch test on a small portion of my skin to see if there was a reaction to any of the substances. Upon contact with one of the chemicals, my skin erupted. An angry red rash appeared on my left wrist and flowered across the skin, covering my hand and the lower arm. Rather than calming, it then settled into a permanent colourful scar - a tattoo, complete with different coloured swirls and patterns. Though an admirable design, I was very disappointed as I did not want a tattoo, especially not one so prominent. I realised that I would have to wear long-sleeved shirts and such to hide the tattoo if attending formal events.

heaven

2009-11-07T09:51:00.003+10:00

I was with two old friends and we had been looking for something for a long time. We had searched the flat plains of the landscape, and now we were climbing a seemingly immeasurable ladder, stretching up into the sky. The ladder was of an unusual structure in that it had three sides, much like the legs of a stool, so that the three of us could climb the ladder, roughly on the same height rung, at the same time. We had been climbing for such a long time - I cannot say how long ... days, weeks, even years. We were determinedly climbing, working as hard as we could, trying to reach the top. At the top, we imagined heaven. A wonderful place. Suddenly, one of us - I cannot recall who - stopped and asked just when we were going to reach the top. Hadn't we been climbing and searching forever? The knowledge came to us - perhaps one, perhaps all - that all we needed to do was to let go of the ladder. To be, not do. To have faith. We could see an endless drop below and the top seemed not so far away, and, yet, we let go. Immediately we rose quickly through the air - effortlessly. We reached the top without struggle and we climbed through the hole into the space beyond. We seemed to be in a vast office block of some sort. Old walls, filing cabinets and heavy metal doors. I ventured into a room where two people were working, dusting the furniture, their faces lined and mapped by their lives. Where is it, I asked them. Where is heaven? We thought it was here. Heaven is all around you, they answered, and at that moment, I saw the view from the window. A magnificent blue sky day. Sweeping green fields surrounded by voluptuous, undulating darker green hills. A body of water - perhaps a river, perhaps a sea - bright blue and shining. An orange tree bearing giant oranges bent over the water, its fruit ripe and ready to be eaten. Flowers blooming in pockets of the surrounds and animals playing. Some people were already out there and we went outside to join them and to explore. Upon stepping outside, the beauty of the landscape was magnified. The air buzzed with life, the gentle warmth of the summer sun kissed my skin, and the scents of earth, water, flowers and animals filled my nostrils. I wanted to go to the orange tree, so I headed out to the water. I stepped into the water, washing off the past, immersing myself in the wonderful cool. I looked around and could see the tree further down, around the bend. I climbed out of the water and walked along the damp sand. Thousands of ants crawled along one part of the sand and into the water making hundreds of tiny tracks. A fleeting thought crossed my mind: were there imperfections in heaven? But I brushed it away, walked carefully around the ants, and found the orange tree. There it was, an ancient tree, its trunk and limbs gnarled, reaching over the water. Huge, bright orange oranges hung heavy on the tree above the clear blue shallows of the water. I imagined how juicy, how delectable the fruit would be. I wanted to stay here forever. A big, happy dog bounded over, splashing in the water, tongue hanging out and hair flying, rushing to greet me.

seeking the answer

2009-11-07T09:26:00.003+10:00

I was in a crowded place. Lots of people that I have known throughout my life were there, as well as many I have never known. It was night time and the crowd was both indoors - inside a vast building - and outdoors in the immediate surrounds. I had already been inside and I was now outside, searching for someone or something. Some of my old friends were sitting at long benches or in dark corners in twos and threes, talking with one another as though in private. I wandered through the grounds and saw more people talking meaningfully with one another, seemingly as though they were trying to find the answer to a question. Suddenly I saw that I still had a burning question that I have carried with me always and that some of these people were the people I looked to in earlier years to find the answer - and they were searching too. I hurried through the crowd, trying to find the key people I have respected deeply in my life, to see if they were here, to see if they knew. I passed old friends and acknowledged them, but didn't stop. Heading toward the stairs that led to the building, I bumped into a tall police officer - a woman who was at least six feet tall - who was walking with another tall police officer - a man of about six four. I joked with them for a moment, feeling so small yet quite confident in their presence, and then continued up the stairs. The male officer walked up the stairs too, to greet his wife who was coming downstairs. She was about my height and was holding a newborn baby. The officer bundled the baby in his big arms and we said goodbye. The crowd heading upstairs had come to a halt so I excused myself and climbed through, urgent to make it to the top of the stairs. There, I could see a group of people I had known in my childhood that I did not really want to spend time with now; I didn't feel comfortable with them or trust them. The leader of the group spied me and immediately starting chasing me. She was only playing, but I sensed a volatile undercurrent. I responded, however, as I hoped to humour her for a moment and then move on to find the people I had come to seek. She chased me into a part of the building that was a maze. I ran around the labyrinth, both trying to find my way and to lose her, confused by the mirrors and many doorways. Finally I found my way through and I set through the crowd once more, looking for my guides.

fear

2009-10-28T10:50:00.003+10:00

I am waiting to cross a very busy road. Enormous trucks like road trains hurtle past - smoke blowing, engines roaring, lights beaming. Giant tyres spin past and I wait, anxious. B walks across the road easily. I can see her on the other side. An old woman with a walking stick and wearing lavender also waits. She hangs back from the kerb and I think she must be worried about crossing too. The lights change and it is time to cross the road. I go to help the old woman and she calls me 'dear'. Crossing the road, however, proves to be terribly hard. My legs won't work properly and each step requires enormous effort and concentration. My fear paralyses me so I walk with long, wobbly strides, swaying and very slow. The old woman thinks I am drunk and shuns me. She disapproves. The lights have changed again, the old woman is safe on the other side, and I am still crossing the road, trying to master my fear so that I can walk easily again.

stairs down

2009-10-28T10:25:00.003+10:00

Walking through an underground shopping centre, pushing a trolley. My brother is just ahead. We need to walk down steep, spiraling stairs, so I grip the trolley with one hand, holding it in front of me, and hang on to the balustrade with the other. There are many people climbing down the stairs, all in a single file for the stairwell is narrow and grows increasingly steep. More people enter the stairwell from underground railway platforms, adjoining the stairs. My progress down is slow, with the weighty trolley, hanging now, in front of me. I see my brother further ahead. He is walking with ease down the stairs, his hands comfortably by his sides and his feet sure. Suddenly, the balustrade ends. There are just stairs and nothing to hold onto. I am even more careful. I do not want to fall, nor do I want to lose my grip on the trolley and injure anyone below, particularly my brother. An old woman enters the stairwell from one of the railway platforms - she steps out of the light and into the darkness of the underground. For some reason beyond my control, my arm flies back and I hit her in the stomach. She is furious and tells me she is going to press charges. I am confused - I did hit her, but I didn't mean to. I try to joke, to diffuse the anger or sidle out of the situation, but she will not be appeased.

fixing situations

2009-10-23T10:23:00.003+10:00

I was in Newcastle and I drove to a venue that regularly housed an art exhibition, open to the public every weekend. The woman who organised the exhibition was there and she told me about the latest sales and encouraged me to display more of my work for sale. I was inspired by the idea and returned home where I sorted through old canvases, deciding which ones I would paint over, ready for the exhibition next weekend. I went to a shop to purchase some art material and, upon paying for my goods with my new eftpos card, two hundred dollars was inadvertently debited from my account. I waited while the man reversed the transaction, crediting the money back to my account. The next morning, Sunday, B and I went down the road to a cafe that opened at nine. We talked about their late opening hours realising that it brought them their target trade. We had breakfast and went to the counter to pay. Again I used my new card and again money was wrongly debited from my account, this time one hundred dollars. The man pointed it out to me and I told him I would wait whilst he rectified the situation. Not sure of how to do it, he charged one of the younger workers with the job. She went to find instructions on how to proceed. The line grew behind me and someone else started serving the waiting customers. I waited for forty-five minutes, growing increasingly angry. Finally I found the young woman for whom I was waiting and confronted her. My anger bubbled up until I was shouting at her, telling her how long I had waited. As I shouted, she backed toward the cupboard behind her, her body disappearing, until finally, she evaporated and passed through the closed wooden doors of the cupboard, hiding deep inside. I felt sorry and called out to her, saying that I didn't think she was stupid, that I believed she could do a good job. The cupboard doors opened a little and I hoped she would come out. Instead, her two shoes stepped out - she was still invisible - and walked quickly away. I was alarmed that my anger had caused such an extreme response, but felt sure that I could right the situation.

escape

2009-10-19T12:05:00.004+10:00

Running along a road, being chased by an enormous black male gorilla. He ran past the other gorillas, focussed on me. I ran as fast as I could, but it was clear that he was far too powerful to outrun. There was only one thing for it - go up. As he gained on me, almost upon me, I manifested flippers and used them to push off the ground and fly into the sky, flapping my flippers. The confused gorilla watched me from the ground and soon I had flown so high that he was a mere speck on the ground. I looked around and saw others flying, mainly in small hot air balloons. I didn't want to fly too high so I kicked my legs more slowly, ascending more slowly now. I enjoyed the sensation of flying whilst also wondering how to land.

warning

2009-10-17T19:05:00.003+10:00

B and I were living in a house directly opposite the New Farm shopping centre in an old cottage that was in need of structural repair. It was night and we were sitting in the lounge room, watching television. B was waiting for someone to arrive with some important documents, so I was attentive to any sounds of visitors at the front of the house. Someone knocked at the door and I ran through the house, opened the door that divided the lounge room from the entrance, and called out, asking who it was. A male voice answered that he was the secretary and, without checking further, I opened the front door. A man of about fifty, balding with grey hair around the sides of his head and with a grey beard, wearing a dirty white t-shirt, stood at the door with a group of others lurking behind. He said he wanted a cup of coffee. I hesitated as I didn't want to let him in, but another man stepped forward and produced a cheap plastic stanley knife with the blade fully drawn. He threatened me with it and I could think of no way of preventing them from entering. Knowing I had no milk in the house, thinking that just maybe this might deter them, I asked how he liked his coffee and he answered 'black'. They walked forward - the two men and about three other people behind them - backing me through the house. B had heard them coming and was in the kitchen, putting the jug on. She too asked - urgently - how he wanted his coffee and again the man answered 'black'. It was, of course, a ruse to enter the house and I knew that B would be trying to think of a way to protect us. The man wielding the knife had me cornered, and I could do nothing.
I woke briefly and went back to sleep.
I was in a house where many people lived. Again it was an old house in need of repair. While the others were busy with their own business, I ventured out the back of the house and around to the side gate. The afternoon was darkening and I retreated, through the back yard which stretched out into the vacant block next door, with no fence to divide the two properties. On the vacant block I could see a woman who I knew was with the group that had entered our house in the dream earlier. I knew too that it had been a dream and now I recalled it like a warning. I hurried to the back door, but was cut off by the same man from the previous dream who had threatened me with the knife. Again he held a cheap plastic stanley knife with the blade fully drawn and he toyed with it, placing it to my throat and pretending to slash the skin on my arms. Again he wanted to come in.
The dream skipped forward and I was inside the house, safe from harm, but quite upset. I found two friends who were also living in the house. They were both friends from my school days and I knew they knew me well. I need to tell them about the experience. I explained the first dream as though it had been a harbinger, and then told them, in great detail, about the second occurrence.I felt that had I listened to the message of the first dream, that I wouldn't have been faced with the danger twice.