theatre and grandmother

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.