house & money truck

I visit a young woman at her home on the Brisbane River where she lives with her father. The house is beautiful: architecturally designed, open-planned, and with lots of rich toffee coloured wooden beams and features. I want to move in so I ask her if she thinks they will ever leave. She says that they will never leave as they love it here and she shows me more; I suddenly understand why. She opens the wide wooden doors on the river side of the house and we are face-to-face with the most serene and private beachscape. It so happens that the river bends right where their house is built, so they have a secluded beach accessible only from their house. White sand and driftwood; waves lapping almost to their balcony. I meet her father. He is a doctor who works in Sydney; he commutes there once a week. They want to show me his artwork so we climb the internal stairs that appear out of nowhere. The stairs wind up and up inside the house. Pausing on a landing near the top, the woman points out her artwork hanging on the wall: two paintings she completed for her final submission at high school. They are large and striking. She tells me that people either love or hate them. I do not feel strongly about them but admire her work none-the-less. We keep climbing until we reach the father’s room. He unpacks tiny artworks, intricate masterpieces that he has created.

Next, I am I a large hall. There are men and women there, mostly paired up, waiting to dance. We waltz around the room, sometimes swapping partners. B is coming and I wonder which partner she will choose. I notice a tall man like a bear and think that he might be suitable. When she arrives, she chooses a slender man, effeminate and graceful.

I leave the hall and walk past the doctor who is sitting on a bench. I place a pizza box in a rubbish bin behind him, hoping he won’t notice. I get the feeling that he is waiting for me.

I walk around the corner and intend to cross a wide city street. As I approach, I see a huge armored truck parked on a strange angle, with a long chute extended from the belly of the truck, effectively blocking the road. There are cameras trained on the location should anyone attempt to tamper with the operation. I realise that it would be dangerous to walk around it, so I simply wait by the side of the road for the truck to move. I can see a uniformed man walking along the chute, carrying a big metal box. He smiles at me and I know that he is carrying a vast sum of money, stashed inside the box.

intruder in the family home

I was in my family home in Newcastle where I lived when I was a teenager. It was night and was walking down the hall. I could see my niece sitting at a desk in my brother’s room. She was absorbed in what she was doing. My nephew suddenly ran down the hall toward me, crying. In my dream, although he was the age he is now—in his twenties—he was the size of a small child. He was frightened as an intruder had entered the house. I picked him up to sooth him and, holding him in my arms, I looked around. Sure enough, the door opening out to the verandah was open and a gentle wind blew through, lifting the curtains. I was startled as the verandah is on the second floor, so someone must have scaled the outside of the house to enter at that level. Other things seemed to be out of place but there was no sign of the person I knew to be a man. I went into my parents’ bedroom and telephoned the police. I could hear sirens sounding and realised that my nephew had already called them. Whilst I was still speaking with the operator, the man appeared and began to overpower me with mild violence. From this point on, my nephew changed into my brother but at this stage he was still the size of a child so he was helpless to protect me. The man forced me out onto the verandah where he was joined by several other men; they all appeared to be very rough. I tried humouring them but they dangled me over the edge of the railing, threatening to drop me. Upside-down, I could see my worried sister standing on the ground below. I called out to her, telling her that should I die, she must know that I love her. I could also see my brother trapped on the balcony with the men. I called to him to tell him I love him and to tell him not to worry, that there was nothing he could have done. The man holding my feet hesitated and I took the opportunity to kick him and twist through the air. I landed, unharmed, on the ground. I hugged my sister but we couldn’t leave without my brother. He was now his real-life size, but he was still surrounded by the gang of men. I willed him to jump, knowing that the ground appeared to be further away from his vantage. He risked it and leapt over the railing, landing on the ground beside us.

ocean cave

I was standing at the edge of the ocean, waves lapping against the rock shelf under my feet. My mother was in the water and we were talking whilst she swam. She dived under the water, and swam beneath the rock on which I stood. I was concerned but found I could see her through the rock; the rock had a transparent window through to a cave below. I saw my father with my mother and noticed that my mother was naked; she looked very pretty. I decided to go in and I entered the water fully clothed. I held my breath and swam under the rock, into the cave. The cave was filled with water but I found that I could breathe, talk and walk around as though on land. The cave was decked out like a holiday apartment with several rooms and beautiful soft furnishings. There was a guard dog, a good natured cattle dog, tied up with a long rope, in the bedroom. Whilst I was there, I was given some mail that had arrived for me. It was a birthday present, a package wrapped in purple paper with a hand-drawn card and inside the card were little stars and glittering confetti that spilled onto the ground. There were a couple more packages that were part of the same present and I understood that the sender was a woman who was living or travelling overseas. I was surprised, however, as my birthday is not until December and I knew it to be May. I thought that perhaps time was reversed in this cave under the sea. My brother was also present in the cave; I was delighted to see him. We stayed in the cave for a couple of days, and then prepared to leave. I was not sure what to do about the dog and felt that I could not leave him here in the cave alone. I took him on a rope leash through the water up to the surface of the water and called out, asking for someone to tell me what to do. Then we swam back down and began to tidy up the cave. I removed the sheets from the bed, again purple, and tidied some cushions. I was not certain where they belonged but the dog helped me, nosing them into place. I could see that he enjoyed his job in the cave but felt that he could return when the next people were due to stay there.

shower & king wave

I dreamed of water. First, I had a shower in a public shower block. As I entered the tiled cubicle, I wished I had a pair of thongs as the floor was quite scummy. Never-the-less, I had a shower and washed my hair. I used whatever products I could find, shampoo and conditioner that had been left there by others. I enjoyed the experience of new products and their scents.

Next, I was at an ocean baths: large salt water pools built out of cement and rock, right beside the ocean. Other people were swimming and walking about. I dipped in and out of pools on my way over to the pool closest to the ocean. Once there, I walked along the cement wall that divided the pool from the ocean. I could see a small boy playing in the shallows just at the edge of the ocean. He was moving a rock that was at least half his size. Suddenly, the rock dislodged and water began to rush through the hole where it had been; the boy had accidentally moved the rock vital to holding back the water. A wave far out at sea began to swell and grow: a king wave with all the weight of the ocean behind it. I grabbed the boy’s hand and we raced up the cement walls of the pools, heading as fast as we could away from the ocean. We could see other people running for their lives. I knew that the boy felt guilty and I wanted to assure him that it wasn’t his fault. But for now, all we could do was run as the wave bore down upon us, towering above us, casting a dark shadow over us. I picked the child up and ran with him in my arms. The wave hit and we were hurled into the tumultuous water.

ride & rottweiler

I was moving down a suburban street in the neighbourhood where I grew up, at rapid speed. I was neither walking nor running, rather I was sliding on my bottom, much like riding a slippery dip. I overtook cars and other pedestrians, racing down the road. I passed people in their front gardens and particularly noticed an old woman in her garden, sitting on an armchair, painting a picture. She was wearing large glasses with unusual frames, and I understood that she was an artist and would paint no matter where she lived or what life brought her. As I neared the place where I wanted to stop, I simply placed my palms on the road to act as brakes. I stopped without trouble and without abrasions to my hands. I loved the ride.

Next, I was with my mother and brother at the bay, a place where we holidayed when I was young. We were walking along the beach, enjoying each others’ company and considering life. We passed through people’s yards and gardens on our way around the coast where we had to leave the shore. I went into the toilet block and had a shower. I stood very high up, close to the shower head, and enjoyed the rush of water on my head and over my face. When I had finished, I prepared to dress. I could see outside to the water where people were swimming and dogs were playing. I didn’t want to go into the water as I had just showered, but something called me outside. Once there, a huge rottweiler sniffed around me and pawed me, before sitting next to me. I was fearful and decided to go back inside. I stood, naked, and had to retrieve my blue towel from under his paws. I was worried that this might upset him but he did not react. I went back inside and noticed the puncture wounds in my arms where the dog had pawed me; I was amazed at his strength as he was being gentle with me. I found some tea tree oil and bathed the wounds to prevent infection.

performance and teeth

I was at a festival, somewhere on the coast of central New South Wales, sitting with a few people in an outdoor café, late in the afternoon. There were tents and demountable buildings set up to house the events and to accommodate the guests. I understood that people were travelling from up and down the coast to attend the festival. I looked across the roadway and noticed a sign erected outside a big white tent. It announced that I was to be singing with a “string band” that evening. I was excited but also nervous, particularly considering we had not rehearsed. I gathered the musicians together and we had a rehearsal in the tent. Though there was much to learn, I was confident that we would sound great. I woke.

Next, I was in Newcastle at our family home where I spent my teenage years. I was sitting outside the house around a park picnic table with my mother and sister, all in our pyjamas. It was night and as we were talking, we were watching the sky; stars turned from white to burnt orange and then exploded into fountains of sparkling light. We were amazed and in wonder. Again, I was scheduled to perform, but this time I was booked to do an hour of stand-up comedy. I was concerned as I am not a comedian and have no desire to be one. I talked it over with my mother and sister, suggesting that I redefine my performance and sing for an hour rather than try to do something far outside my skill base or comfort zone. My mother agreed but my sister, playing devil’s advocate, thought I should challenge myself and do the comedy routine. I felt that it would be challenging enough to sing and that to attempt comedy would lack integrity, not being what I do.

I suddenly realised that I had a huge wad of hot pink bubblegum in my mouth and needed to spit it out. I ran back into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom, to dispose of it in the bathroom rubbish bin. The bin was overflowing so I began to stuff everything down into the rubbish bag and to clean up the area around the bin. Again, I had a strange sensation in my mouth and I needed to spit out more bubblegum. This time, a few teeth came loose and as I pulled the bubblegum out of my mouth, the teeth came out too. I was horrified as even more teeth became loose and fell out. I looked in the mirror and could see empty bloodied gums on the left side of my face. I ran downstairs, cupping the teeth in my hand, to show my mother. I could see two Indian men that I do not know, one sitting in the loungeroom in my father’s chair, and the other washing up at the kitchen sink. I was fleetingly aware of being in my pyjamas. I showed my mother the teeth which were broken and crumbling in my hand, asking her what I should do. She remained calm, saying that it would be alright. I woke.

tiger and bull

I was in my sister’s bedroom in the house where we grew up. I had in my care a small child, probably three years old, whose mother was away. I knew that there was a tiger in the house and that the girl was in great danger. There was no means of leaving the house without passing the tiger and I could hear the tiger prowling around, hunting for the child. I told the child to hide under the bed so she crawled under and I pulled the bedspread edges to the ground to further conceal her. The huge tiger came into the room and, before I could do anything, fished an enormous paw under the bed, pulled out the little girl and sprang away with her in its mouth. I did not know how I was going to tell the absent mother that her child had been eaten by a tiger or what else I could have done to prevent it.

Next, a tiny bull, the size of a large mouse, was running around the room. I caught the bull in one hand, flipped him over and tickled his tummy, his little legs kicking with delight. I let him go and he again ran around the room.