Saturday 22 December 2007

held from behind & makeup

A and I were walking down a grassy hill, back to our van, in the early evening. As we opened the door, a man walked alongside us and then grabbed me from behind. I threw my mobile phone to A and closed the car door so that she would be able to call the police. The man didn’t really do anything except hold me against the side of the van, whilst I repeatedly told him to let me go, speaking as calmly as possible. Suddenly there were several other cars around us and the man left. I hopped into the car and realised that no one had understood that I was in trouble as I had appeared to be calm.

Next, I was walking through David Jones in the women’s clothing department. I came across an exclusive boutique situated in the middle of the floor. It was run by two very interesting looking women in their forties or fifties—there was a photograph of them on the wall: a woman with dark hair and the other with fire red. Glamorous women were trying on the clothes. I recognised one of the women as R, a tall slender woman that I haven’t seen for twenty years. She looked almost the same as when I last saw her and she was as striking as always. I walked over to the Clarins counter to apply some lipstick before she recognised me; I asked the assistant if I could borrow her mirror. As I was putting the lid back on my lipstick, it broke. The assistant offered to do my makeup and I agreed. When she had finished, I looked in the mirror again and, though she had done a lovely job, I felt too made up. Instead of washing the makeup off, I simply removed it like a mask and gave it back to the lady. Another woman came over and held me from behind and I felt safe. I then helped the store assistants man their counter while they took a break.

horse and death cloud

I could see a beautiful grey and sand horse. I called to the horse and it came to me though it was wild. There were barbed wire fences either side of where we were and the horse’s coat kept being caught in the wire. I untangled the soft hair as the tangles occurred. As I was stroking the horse, I also noticed that there was bright blue bubblegum stuck in its tail. I attempted to remove the gum without hurting the horse or without being kicked. We heard a sound and turned to see a mass of people, hundreds of dead people, their energies merged somehow so that although we could see individuals, they were simultaneously one. Their combined energy emitted a droning sound, a reverberation, which was frightening. They floated down the hill toward us and the horse and I shielded ourselves from the moving grey cloud by turning toward one another and lowering our heads, leaning against each other. The huge entity passed straight through us like a forceful wind.

Next, I was standing on a playing field with a number of other people. We heard a similar eerie humming sound and looked up to see another swarm of dead people whose energies had merged. We could see their skeletal faces and bones, grey and green. They watched us for a moment before rushing down the hill—a storm of death passing through us as we braced ourselves against the onslaught.

Tuesday 18 December 2007

festival & bad products

I was at a festival very early in the morning, walking the grounds as tents were being erected, food stalls were being set up, and before the crowds had arrived. I was walking along the edge of a short cliff, watching as people worked, contributing here and there. Someone was cooking food and I noticed that the flames had crept out of the fire pit and licked the nearby foliage. No one was concerned even as I drew their attention to it. Soon the flames had engulfed surrounding trees in a long line; a fire trail framed the edge of the cliff. Still, nobody was worried. I walked down the hill and across a vast field where later there would be entertainment. I sat down against a wall close to the entrance of the entire area, waiting for my brother who soon arrived with a couple of others. They were hungry so I pointed out the food stalls back up on the cliff. We could see queues of people now lined up; many of them seemed to be dressed in brightly coloured saris – brilliant yellows and hot pinks. I urged them to go now before the crowds thickened and asked if they would also get me something to eat. Whilst I waited for them, I looked at a product for sale: containers of kephir yogurt that were piled into a pyramid, with white, dark green and red packaging. I was going to buy some until a woman told me that she thought it was a bad product. My brother returned with food but had been unable to buy me anything that I could eat – there was nothing without wheat.
Later, I went to David Jones. As I walked down the aisle, I spied a table of unusual leather bags under a sign saying 50% off. I could see in particular a stylish black bag that was, for some reason, called a smoking bag. As I approached the table, someone removed the sign and instead erected another saying a further 25% off. I was quite excited and inspected the bag with intention to buy until a woman called my name and said that it wasn’t the bag that I needed, that it was a bad product. I left the bag and walked through the store with the woman. She changed into a younger girl wearing a school uniform and we talked about her job at the store. It was Christmas time.

Monday 10 December 2007

nightmare spell

I was living in the street where my parents live in Newcastle. I had an apartment underneath their town house, accessible via an entrance down a path running alongside their house. Across the road was a huge old house, built in the early days of Newcastle’s settlement. The house had two or three floors, the bottom floor lower than street level; stone steps led steeply down from the road to the front door. A lady as old as can be imagined—pruned, almost mummified— lived in the house. In the daylight hours I had visited her house, uninvited. I do not remember why, just a sense that I had been there whilst she was out of the house. Now, it was night and I was compelled to go outside in the dark while the neighbourhood was sleeping. There was a wild wind blowing and the ground seemed to shift under my feet. Everything was dark, shadowed, but across the street I could see the lights on in her house and the silhouette of the old woman clattering about, pacing the floor. I could hear her voice through the wind (or perhaps carried by it) chanting, appealing, She seemed to be drawing me to her, calling me in. I was on the footpath outside my house, the wind pulling me to her. I struggled to climb the grassy slope into my parents front garden, but the wind and the shifting ground conspired to drag me, take me, across the road to her house. The ground became sand, softer and unstable, and I was magicked slowly to the top of the stone steps. I reached out in the dark and felt the cold, rough stone under my fingertips. I found a new strength, desperate not to be dragged into the well of her front yard, and fought my way through the invisible tide, back across the road. I reached the grassy slope once again and drew on all my energy to climb it. I became entangled in fencing wire and rose bushes, unable to go any further. I cried out for help, hoping that someone would wake. A woman I know appeared from inside the house and came for me. Strangely, she looked calm and unaffected by the howling wind and the moving ground, and looked at me with kindness, somewhat perplexed by my struggle. Behind her, a mirage of B appeared, calling me toward her, encouraging me forward.

comic routine

I was one of several people who had been asked to appear as a stand-up comedian in front of a live audience. I was backstage listening to the person performing before me, firing jokes and one-liners, and the large audience laughing raucously. It came time for my routine so I walked on stage and crossed to a high stool, where I sat. I looked around and realised that the audience had thinned out dramatically—perhaps only fifteen or so people, mostly very young, were left. I also realised that I had come on stage too early, that the MC was only now introducing me and there I was, already sitting on the stool, missing the opportunity for a grand entrance. The buttons on my top were undone, and while the MC chatted amiably to the crowd, I fiddled with the buttons, trying to do them up again. I saw the MC turn to look at me, embarrassed at my ill-timed entrance and my disarray. It was then that I also realised that I didn’t have a routine, that I didn’t know any jokes. I trawled my memory but couldn’t rake up anything funny at all. I wondered how I would fill the minutes allocated to my performance and my mind was blank.

naked dance

I had choreographed a dance involving about eight people and the day came when we were to present the piece to an audience. I walked into the studio, late, and to my surprise, the dancers were all naked. Men and women swanned about, dancing beautifully, stretching supple backs, strong legs, and expressive arms, all entirely bare fleshed. I was horrified that I would have to remove my clothing, on the one hand admiring the other dancers and understanding that the dance was all the more spectacular and real because of the truth of nakedness, on the other, fearing the judgement that revealing who I really was to others would invite. I noticed that the dancers were all different shapes and sizes, in particular, one short woman stood out to me, her imperfections simultaneously her beauty. I stood at the edges of the dance floor, talking in a low voice with my mentor, marking time to try to find a way that I could perform the dance without the potential humility of being publicly naked, or perhaps by coming to terms with my own body and performing with total confidence and ease.

house in alstonville

I found a deceased estate property in Alstonville, northern NSW, or rather, I came upon it. A house surrounded by a vast grassy stretch and protected from the road by a steep hill on one side; the house was not visible from the street. There were other people there, but I knew that I was now the rightful owner of the house though I might not live there immediately. I walked through the house, from room to room, spreading mulch made of lawn clippings, over and inside all of the cupboards, the benches, the floors and the shelves, preparing the house. Someone asked me what I was doing and, knowing it appeared odd, I could not quite explain. I just knew that I must make the house ready for growth, for fertility. My brother was there and I told him that I was going to build verandahs and a swimming pool which would be under the cover of a thin roof adjoining the house. I walked outside and could see people walking along the winding grassy path around the hill, toward the house—welcome strangers. There was a fish pond dug into the ground that was in need of attention but the gold fish were still alive.

Thursday 6 December 2007

seal & baby

It was either early evening or early morning—I am not sure which. The light was dim, the sky streaked with dusky pinks and blues, and the moon was shining softly. There was a vast lake or a sea, the water very still and quite shallow but dark. Though it wasn’t murky, I couldn’t see through the water to what might be swimming below. It was time to wade out to where I had earlier set some kind of fishing trap to see what I had caught. Some other people, mostly men, were also wading out to their fishing baskets. The men were wearing long wading boots to protect their legs from unforeseen dangers. I was concerned as, although I was wearing boots, they were not wading boots and only came up to just above my ankles. I was aware of my skin on my legs gleaming white in the moonlight as I cautiously waded into the cool water. It was very quiet. Further out I spied a large seal watching me. The seal slipped under the water and swam toward me. I hurried back out of the water away from the seal but the seal pursued me onto the sandy shore. He (or she, I am not certain) opened his mouth and closed it gently around my arm. His teeth were strong but he did not bite me; it was as though he was showing me that I could trust him. He wanted me to go back in the water. I scratched his back and belly like I would a dog, and he seemed to like it. He moved around and closed his mouth around my other arm, still careful not to hurt me. I began to relax.

I woke and when I went back to sleep a while later…

There was a knock at the door. A woman and I answered the door. I was a small child but I was thinking as an adult. I felt like I was both the woman and the child. A seal was at the door holding a beautiful baby in its black shiny flippers. The baby had dark hair and eyes and was very young—close to newborn. The baby spoke to the woman saying “Will you hold me now? Are you ready to love me?” I could sense the baby’s urgency to be in the arms of a mother who was warm and dry, rather than cold and wet. The woman took the baby from the seal and said that she would love this baby the most, that this baby would come first above her children. I understood that the baby had been in the pool downstairs, waiting, for at least nine months, and that somehow I hadn’t acted soon enough, that I should have gone down to the pool and into the water long ago to bring the baby home. I couldn’t fathom why I hadn’t and why the seal had had to leave the water and make its way up flights of stairs to bring the baby to us.

Saturday 1 December 2007

drawing and desire

I was looking for something that I had packed away long ago. I was in a bedroom of the house I grew up in, searching whilst other people were sleeping. I lay down on the floor and looked under the bed, pulling out boxes that were wedged in tightly. The boxes were full of beautiful jewelry: diamond brooches, sparkling necklaces, precious stone rings and bracelets. I discovered exquisite vintage clothing, silk scarves with fringing, velvet dresses, coats and lingerie. I looked until I found some colour pencils, took them and packed the rest of the things back under the bed.

I drew a picture of a group of people in relationship with one another—one man and three women. The man was dark, one of the women was Indian and another was pregnant and had small children. The man was having or had had a relationship with each of the women and one of the women was attracted to another woman in the group. I managed to convey the intricacies of their relationships by using different colours, expressions and symbols to visually explain their thoughts and desires. I used a white pencil to show the things that were abstract rather than physical, outlining rather than filling in the symbol, to represent what the other characters couldn’t see.

Because of this picture, I went on to create a picture book for adults that was beautiful and erotic in nature. My life changed and I was successful and abundant with newfound freedom and insight.

I then went back in time to when I was a teenager. I was sitting on the ground, leaning against a brick wall of the church I went to in my youth, watching as a couple of people took photographs of a girl I knew then: C. She was meant to be modeling a long jumper that sufficed as a dress. Another girl came along and they started photographing her in the same jumper. She was tall and athletic with blond hair and green eyes. I spoke to the girl and told her that I was from the future. I wondered if she would remember this moment later in life. She told me she was 16 so I realised that I was younger than that; younger than I had imagined I was. I told her that in the future I was an artist and writer, and said it was probably difficult to imagine as I was so young, quiet and dreamy at this age. We kissed and then she was sick. We went inside the church hall to get a drink of water from the kitchen and so she could rinse out her mouth. There were women working in the kitchen and I knew our being there was disturbing them. I felt angry and pushed aside. I felt as though I was not welcome.

I went into the hall and there was a person. I knew that I had known this person across lifetimes and said that maybe this time we could work it out.

flight and fight

I was flying above the heads of people in a shopping centre. I seemed to be invisible to most people, although others looked up and recognised me as I went past. As I flew by the escalators, I saw my friend R heading down to the next level. I called her name and struck an amusing pose; she looked up, waved and laughed. I flew along corridors and in and out of shops looking at things. When I flew into a jewelers, I became confused by the bright lights and the mirrors and crashed into a mirror that I thought was the exit. I fell down on the floor and decided to pretend that I had been browsing in the shop and had fainted. I knew that they could not know that I had been flying. I lay there until the store manager came over to see what the noise had been. I pretended to be disoriented but left the shop abruptly when he suggested that I come with him to his car. I didn’t want to. I ran out through the streets through West End. Along Hardgrave Road, I saw an acting agent I used to know. He was living above the shops. He took me into the kitchen of a cafĂ© and introduced me to some women who had visited a close friend’s business very recently; they complained about the price of goods. I defended my friend and when I didn’t feel that I could make them understand they way things were, I picked up a kitchen knife and fought with them. One of the women also grabbed a knife and we had a sword fight. I swiped my knife through the air and cut her blade in half. I then put down my knife, realising that the situation was ridiculous, and left their company.