thwarted path

I was in an outdoor café, sitting at a table with B. There was a group of people sitting a few tables away, calling out and generally being very loud and rude. I went over to their table and told them to be quiet and that they should consider other people, this late Sunday afternoon. I then went into the chamber where the elevator would normally be, discovered it was gone, so I began to climb up the wall frames like scaling up monkey bars, until I reached the correct floor. I emerged into a library where I could see an old friend who was now the manager there. She looked a little older and I was impressed, if a little daunted, by how far she had come in life.

Next, I was in the foyer outside the library, attempting to cross to the other side of the room, but I was caught in the middle of a game much like Red Rover Cross Over. Every time I attempted to race ahead, a robot came whizzing across the floor, tapping me on the shoulder, so that I was frozen to the spot until another person freed me. Then the robot would immediately speed over to tip me again. I could not work out how to get to where I wanted to go as the robot had super-human speed.

purple python

I was in Germany, taking a tour of the house and garden of a man who lived in the early years of the twentieth century. He was famous for birthing new ideas and experimenting with unconventional art forms including musical, visual and literary - a visionary. The house was a huge stone mansion, housing at least several families or a large extended family at one time. It was definitely a very wealthy household. Here, I was told, he hidden during the rise of Nazi Germany, taking shelter in the secret basements, continuing to create and invent. I walked through the densely landscaped rose gardens that swept down the hill behind the house. As I neared the servants’ quarters, the path grew thick with foliage and I couldn’t get through without lying down on the ground and rolling under the thorny branches, then stepping carefully down a very slippery and steep stone wall. I felt anxious about the maneuver, my heart racing as I bent under the branches and touched the rock, and a purple snake whipped out and latched its mouth around my wrist. I did my best to squeeze the snake just behind its head so that it would let go. It did, its mouth open wide, trying to bite me again, but I could see that it hadn’t any teeth. I threw the snake away into the garden, but it came back to bite me again. Several times I had to grab the snake by the tail and behind its head, pulling it off my wrist, then throwing it back into the garden.

homestead

I was the passenger in a 4WD, heading out of Brisbane, into the country. We passed a woman that I know; she was walking in the fields, alone. She stared into the car and called out as we passed, asking if I was alright. We arrived at a homestead: a sweeping, low-set sandstone building, crowning the top of a gentle hill. It was approaching dusk and we were to gather in the shared living space for an evening drink. I freshened up from the drive, looking into a mirror with an ornate silver frame, whilst my companion, a man I know, lay on the bed. His friend, a tall, glamorous woman, made a graceful entrance, the wind blowing her loose-fitting clothing, the tails of her head scarf billowing behind her, and her eyes shaded by dark glasses. As she came close to me, bending to kiss me hello, I could see that she was very ill: her skin was spotted and she was bald.

Next, I was at the foot of the hill with my family, around a camp fire. There was a small cliff behind us. We were lying on the grassy sand, looking out to the ocean. Children were playing in the shallows – strange children with unusual faces. We began to walk along the shore, heading back up the hill. In a small alcove in the cliff face, a black cat sat, sheltering from the wind. It had a peculiar face with small green eyes. My brother touched it gently with a small stick; it nuzzled the stick and he gave the cat a scratch. We looked behind us and saw that another black cat was sitting on the hot coals left in the hearth where our fire had been. We walked up the hill toward the homestead, watching the ground for beautiful stones and jewels that were embedded in the earth. My brother bent, picking up stones and gemstones every few steps, handing them to me to hold.

my siblings

I was in the bedroom of the home I lived in throughout my teenage years. I was in bed and my mother walked in with two other people: a man and a woman. She flicked on the light and showed them around the room – perhaps they were buying the house. After they had gone, my sister came into the room; she looked lovely and sleepy so I lifted the quilt and let her crawl into bed beside me. Next our brother joined us; he was wearing a rust coloured hand-knitted jumper like one he might have worn when he was a child. Another woman sat with us in the room; it became apparent that this was our older sister. My mother came in and gave her a present: a sky-blue, wide belt with a silver buckle. She thanked my mother, who left the room, but I didn’t feel that she had appeared grateful enough. She explained that she liked that belt but was not sure about its value. I told her that I was looking forward to getting to know her and that I had known and understood my brother and sister our entire lives. My brother then walked out of the room and began to cross a road that appeared outside the bedroom door. A car rushed by and he tripped, hitting his head on the bitumen. We all ran to him. I arrived first and I picked him up and turned him over, holding him in my arms. There was blood on his head and my heart pounded so hard in my chest I woke with a start.

singing

I was onstage in a rehearsal, singing a song that I wrote a few years back: “Indigo Waves”. I was accompanied by an orchestra and I was thrilled with the depth of the instrumentation - it sounded so wonderful, so rich and layered, now that there was a whole orchestra creating the music. I noticed that the arrangement was slightly altered; it was a powerful and beautiful sound. I felt overjoyed.

lullaby

I was in the kitchen of the family house we built when I was young. Various family members were in the kitchen and the adjoining sunroom, talking and milling around. My brother was there, at his current age and height – in his thirties and six foot something – and I picked him up in my arms, cradling him like a child. He was light and I felt quite able to lift him. I sang a lullaby, walking around the house, and quite enjoyed the resonance of my own voice, deep and low in my throat. My mother and sister joined in singing the last few notes.

costumed dance & shop

I was working in a themed retail outlet in a busy shopping centre. It seemed to be a night shift although I couldn’t see natural light or the time to confirm this. Customers were coming in and out of the shop, all dressed in strange costumes complete with masks, headdresses and painted faces. They were not playing characters specific to a time period or a recognisable theme, and although each character was unique, once the characters were all assembled, they resembled a modernistic and colourful tribe. I was working with a young girl who had obviously been in the shop for some time. She was teaching me the various procedures and showed me where to hide my bag and, after I removed them, my shoes. I tidied shelves and did some paperwork. Toward the end of the shift, all of the characters who had gathered took position on the floor and began to dance. It was a fantastic dance: the whole group had mastered the choreographed routine and looked fabulous in their extreme costuming. I watched them dance for a time, feeling that I would like to be a part of it, but also feeling that they were a strange collection of people. Suddenly, I felt urgent about leaving. I realised that I didn’t want to work in retail and I wasn’t sure why I had accepted the position. I decided to tell the girl that I was going home and that I wouldn’t work another shift; I wanted her to pass on the message to the woman who owned the store. I found the girl at the back of the shop and explained that I was leaving and that the money I could earn working for myself was better, as well as the creative rewards. I told her that she was terrific at her job and wished her all the best. I went to collect my handbag and shoes from behind the counter at the front of the store. I opened cupboard doors and couldn’t see it anywhere, but then my mobile phone rang and I located it in a bottom cupboard. I then looked for my shoes: a pair of sparkling silver jiffies like dancing shoes. I couldn’t find them. Others, including the girl, helped me look, and eventually she found them by climbing up a ladder and unpacking the top shelf. She passed them down to me but they had melted; I had to reshape them somehow.