leaving my family

I was staying with my family and A was with me. It was in the hours before we were due to return home and we were organising flights over the Internet and packing our bags. Finally, we sat in the dining area, which was more like a restaurant than a home dining room with several tables in the room rather than one large table, and the entire family shared a meal. We ate and talked - a time of togetherness and community. I had the sense that A and I had done this before, that this was our second 'leaving', but I could not recall the details of the first event. Before we had finished our meals, A said that it was time to go. I glanced at my watch and realised that we had left it very late; we only had minutes to get to the airport before the plane was due to leave. I took a hasty bite of my fish and removed a long, thin bone from my mouth, then collected my handbag from under the table and stood to leave. My family were saddened and surprised that we had to leave so soon. Several family members followed me into another room inside the house to say their goodbyes. One by one, we embraced and I told them I loved them. There seemed to be immediate family members as well as grandmothers and great-grandmothers who are no longer alive. I knelt on the ground in front of my great-grandmother - a final farewell and a gesture of respect - and then left the house. A was on the street doing her best to hail a taxi. It was raining and night was falling. Cars and buses sped by but taxis were few and the ones we could see were occupied or turned off the street before passing us. I decided to phone and book a cab but the numbers on my mobile phone shifted around as I pressed them. Meanwhile, A was searching for our tickets as they had disappeared. She had unpacked the contents of her entire hand luggage and had it sprawled over a raised bank. I joined her and rifled through my hand luggage, looking for our tickets. We found other things: a lost silver ring, letters, towels, money and such, but no tickets. Too much time had lapsed and we had to accept that we had missed the plane. We calmed ourselves and repacked our things, deciding to go to the airport where we could order new tickets. A said that she was surprised that I didn't just stay with my family. I felt torn between this home and my home far away.

new space

I was about to rent an art studio in the same building that I had previously rented a space. This space was far more suitable. It was a large L-shaped room with an inbuilt desk against one wall. Instead of the walls completely meeting at the corners, gaps the width of regular doorways had been left, open to the outside, so that the room had cross-breezes from every angle as well as natural light from the gaps and the windows in one wall. It was a beautiful space and I was excited about moving in to begin a period of intense creative work. The breeze blew through, constantly refreshing the air in the room and carrying with it the perfumes of the outdoors and the sound of distant laughter.

song

I heard a small group of young women perform at a concert. They sounded great but toward the end of one song, it changed slightly and I realised that I recognised the melody and arrangement: it was a song that I had written about seven years ago and had recorded with a local ensemble. I felt outraged that someone had stolen my song.
Next, I was waiting for someone or something. I was not sure for whom or what but the dream was filled with the sense of waiting. Though there were others present, I undressed, stepped into a shower cubicle to wash. I was aware that I could be seen but I had no feelings of shame or modesty, rather I felt totally uninhibited and disinterested in the thoughts of the other people around. In fact, I expected them to regard me with the same disinterest. Once finished, I dried myself and dressed. More people had gathered in the space and among them, the trio of young women who had performed earlier. I decided to confront them about the song. At first, they denied any knowledge of its existence but then I sang the song back to them and told them that I could prove that I wrote and recorded it. I also pointed out that the singer had been unable to hit the highest notes powerfully and then demonstrated how it could be sung. Two of the girls confessed that they had indeed stolen my song and asked if I might be interested in fronting the band for that song. I pretended I might be interested so that I could get others to witness their guilt, and then I yelled at them, saying I would sue them.
Next, I was sitting in an audience and someone was holding a record. There was a photo on the front of a beautiful young woman and there was no title. I knew that the record was either mine or the trio's but I couldn't be sure. I was frightened that they had taken away my opportunity.

snow

I was at the home my family built when I was a child. My parents were also there along with various other people, all the age we are now. Although I knew it was summer (according to the calendar) the weather was indicating winter. It was icy cold and we were all doing what we could to stay warm. I went upstairs to my bedroom to change my clothes; I needed to find something suitable for the outdoors, particularly for walking through a field where I was to dig something up. I put on a thick, cream woolly jumper over several layers, my jeans, and a pair of long camel-coloured boots with a sturdy heel. I held other boots in my hands, weighing up their appropriateness for the task ahead of me, but decided that their heels were too thin or high. Once dressed, I ventured back downstairs and went to the window to look out. I wondered if I had dressed too warmly seeing as this was summer, but I could see people walking up and down the street outside wearing even more layers: parkers, coats with hoods and fur trims, scarves, gloves and beanies. Suddenly snow began to fall from the sky. I called out to my parents and ran outside. It was the first time I had seen snow and I wasn't entirely convinced that this could really be snow - in Newcastle, in summer. I caught a snowflake in my hand; it was a little different to what I had expected. It was soft and white, like a small part of a cotton ball that had been torn up. It was not cold to the touch, rather it was its extreme softness that was most surprising. The snowfall was very light, like the falling of leaves or flowers under a tree in a gentle wind. I stayed outside, feeling wonder, until the snow stopped falling.

connection

I was sitting with a friend in a factory above a vast vat where pasta sauce was being cooked and stirred by a machine. There were stainless steel surfaces everywhere and the hum of industry filled our ears. We were talking intimately - about what I cannot recall. I imagined falling into the pasta sauce below and drew in my breath sharply - the picture in my mind was far too clear. My friend wondered what was wrong and I explained that I had an extremely vivid imagination. It was time to go home as the day had turned to night and I needed to meet B at home. I tried to call her but was instead connected to a radio station where I could hear a close friend of mine conducting a radio program. I was delighted to speak with him and find out what he was up to.
I walked home - home was the house my family built in Newcastle when I was a child only now B and I lived there as adults. I had cooked dinner earlier and I was anxious about her coming home from work. It was dark and late so I tried to call her on my mobile phone, standing across the road from home. I repeatedly dialled the wrong number and had to dial again. I couple of times I was connected but was disconnected again. I tried calling from a public phone booth, also directly across the road from our house, but couldn't get through. I tried calling my ex-partner, urgent for someone to come home. I could see the golden lights of my home, shining through the windows. Several people had gathered around me - a few men and one or two women - who were keen to spend some time with me and keep me company. I felt a confusing mix of emotions: I was worried about B as it was now one o'clock in the morning; I was not sure that I wanted these people in my home though they were nice; and I was growing weary. I went across the road, actually entering the house for the first time. There was a small group of men in the lounge room, watching television quietly. I walked into the kitchen, intending to try to call again. I looked at the clock and was again surprised by the lateness of the hour.

beauty

I was collecting items of beauty: underwear made from scraps of silk and lace in gem colours - ruby, amber, sapphire, emerald and garnet; lipsticks in silver cases - fuscia, red, vermillion and coral; shimmering eyeshadows in shades of blue, silver, sand and green; bespoke clothing made from the most delicate and interesting of fabrics; more cosmetics in varying shades, packed in intricately designed cases. I packed all of these things to take with me on a journey. Later, I unpacked the various shades of foundations I had collected that were housed in small glass vials, and tried one shade on my skin. The liquid spread evenly but then formed tiny bubbles under my fingertips. I rather liked the glittering bubbles which turned a silvery blue, so I left them there, my face sparkling.

faint

I was sitting in a lecture theatre, next to the lecturer. She was operating a computer, conducting a PowerPoint presentation, whilst addressing the class. The images became out of sync with the words and I tried to help her but then photographs of babies appeared on the screen. The photos seemed to be of the class members when they were young. The computer then blacked out entirely, putting an end to the lecture. The lecturer put her arms around me and we sat, quietly, while the others filed out. We then prepared to leave the lecture theatre. My car was parked directly outside and, as we approached it, we could see that someone had scratched it - not just one scratch but the entire car was covered in scratches, as though someone had deliberately scraped the red paint away. I accepted it seemingly stoically, saying that I would just have to get a cut and polish, but really it rocked me to my core. I didn't feel that I could cope with another setback. We opened the gate from the small courtyard where my car was parked to the green outdoors and I fainted. My lecturer didn't notice and continued walking down the path. I lay there, conscious yet not, perspiring in the engulfing heat. I could see beads of sweat running down the skin on my arms; my skin was golden and I was wearing sky blue. My lecturer returned with help: another woman and an aged male rector. I was immediately concerned as I didn't want the rector preaching or some such thing. My fears, however, were ungrounded; he simply sat beside me, as they all did, until I stirred. My lecturer whispered in my ear: don't give up. Finally, I wiped the perspiration from my brow, pushed the hair from my eyes and stood up. The three people all left without saying anything further and I walked to my car.

stars & cars

We were in Newcastle, driving along a road that winds through the centre of the city atop a hill so that the city spreads out on either side of the road. My father was driving, I was sitting in the front passenger seat, my mother and my friend, R, were sitting in the back. I was gazing out the window, looking up at the glittering stars which, rather than scattered randomly across the sky, were lined up neatly in a row of about twelve stars. I mentioned the unusual formation and my mother and friend in the back looked up through the window in the roof of the car to see the stars. Some of the stars moved out of formation: they made the shape of a caterpillar and swam, much like the motion of an amoeba under a microscope, across the sky. Suddenly my father asked if we would like oysters for dinner. Our attention was immediately brought back to the road where, in front of us, two cars had crashed, blocking the road. One was an oyster carrier and we could see shucked oysters spilled out of the van, scattered over the bitumen. In the spilt second we had to think before we reached the two cars, I felt it was inevitable that we would crash also crash, but my father saw a slender gap between the cars and adroitly navigated our car through the gap, just shaving against one car, a white Mercedes, and passing through unscathed. He then, with a great calm, indicated and pulled over to the left so that we could swap details with the driver of the Mercedes who was walking around the crash site. It appeared that no one was injured. I was amazed at my father's incredible control and his great driving skill. We knew that he had managed to save us from what may have been a disaster.

packing

More dormitories...
I was due to leave where I had been staying: a dormitory containing at least thirty beds. My bed was next to my friend C's bed. I had to pack my bag as I was to travel to another place, further south. I was excited as this place had an amazing view of the mountains and the setting sun. I knew that I would relish in its beauty and relax. I felt unsure of what to pack and then I remembered that I had written a list. I checked the list which contained the usual things: clothing, toiletries, books and such. Among the items listed, however, I had also included 'guidance' and 'moon'. There was also a reminder to contact a woman from a film organisation.

dormitory beds

It was late at night and time for bed. I was one of a group of people who were swapping places with another group: we were going into their dormitory to sleep and they were leaving, presumably to take over the role we had been occupying. One woman rushed ahead and secured the only unused mattress. She settled as the rest of us tried to find a bed. I decided upon the bed of a youngish Indigenous woman; we smiled politely at one another as she left. The bed was covered in clean if threadbare sheets and had a warm quilt and a soft pillow. It was the only bed in the dormitory that looked cared for. I slipped into the bed to sleep.

voyage

I was far away, over vast seas and land masses, so far from here that I seemed to be on the other side of the world, perhaps even in a different era. I had the feeling of crossing huge distances, travelling night and day for a very long time. I can recall the slap of ice blue oceans and the flame orange heat of sandy deserts. I seemed neither to be flying above the earth or passing upon it, rather, I was both in it and separate from it, at one time being the soil and the water, and at another time slipping through a hole like a portal in the water, finding myself in another time, on another part of the planet. There was nothing civilised or industrial about this world. Everything was pristine and wild. I recall other creatures but they were nebulous of form: one moment shark-like, the next a more mammalian form. I seem to remember the sound of horse hooves drumming across stone. Great walls of azure blue water, glittering glaciers making snail slow voyages through the sea, then to the deep shining golds and ochre of ancient towering cliffs, and the unfathomable emptiness of stretching plains.

between two places

I was sitting on the grass outside a large community hall. The area reminded me of the campsites of my youth, complete with dormitories and meeting places. Small groups of people were playing games on the grass: games of frisbee, games involving balls and sticks, chasing games, competitive games, and more. Some were simply running around the playing field space. Everyone was active and had something definite to do. I looked around, not sure about joining any of the activities. I felt too old to challenge any of the young ones to a running race; I knew it would be fruitless. I wanted to be able to leap around, to stretch my body and use my muscles, but I saw the energy and strength of the teenagers who were jumping about and felt daunted. I considered going for a walk through the nearby bush reserve but I was concerned about walking alone. I ventured over to where a giant canvas bag lay open on the ground. Out of it spilled the remaining balls, bats and sporting gear that wasn't in use. Behind me, I heard voices coming from inside the community hall, so I climbed the few stairs onto the verandah and went through the door, crossing from light to shade, from hot to cool. Inside were more groups of people but the average age was far greater. I could see elderly women having cups of tea and people of various ages engaging in conversation. I felt more comfortable inside although part of me still wanted to be active and adventurous; I wanted to stir the energy within. I sat with a few people and listened to their talk for a while, gradually easing into the conversation. A woman of about seventy lectured me about the virtues of marketing my business: she said that if people didn't recognise the name of a business that she owned, it would bring tears to her eyes. She was a proud and powerful woman and I liked her and knew I could learn from her. After our conversation, I went into the kitchen where I found my great grandmother making tea. I hugged her to me and she commented upon the lovely pale blue knitted top I was wearing; I reminded her that she had knitted it for me. Then my maternal grandmother, her youngest daughter, appeared beside her. I felt a rush of joy and sadness to see her again, my lovely Nanny. She too admired the top and I knew that it was her favourite colour and wondered if it was actually Nan that had knitted it. I was so pleased to see them but I also feared being judged for my life's choices.

haze

I was desperately sleepy and I wanted to go home to bed. I walked along the street where I knew I lived, but I couldn't recall which was my house. It was in the early hours of the morning around four. The light was hypnotic blue and people danced in and out of the doorways, spilling onto the street. I could see parties of people, celebrating inside the old buildings, windows illuminated gold and bodies moving to music that drifted out of the houses. Most of the buildings had two or three floors with rendered walls, painted cream. I walked, my head swimming in an almost narcotic haze, from one end of the street to the other, unable to find my home. This end of the road lead straight to the sea. I knew that if I could find my friend, C, I would remember where I lived. I called her name as I walked back up the street, away from the ocean. I saw my friend run out of one of the buildings and hail down a car. The car turned, pulled up beside her and she hopped in. I called again but I could see she hadn't heard me. Then the car drove up toward where I stood, waving, and I could see the smiling faces of C and her brother. I knew they would take me home.

hallway, flying and money

I could see my two good friends rehearsing a trick for a show. One friend drove her car along a narrow hallway whilst the other held onto a rope and floated along behind, pulled by the car. Toward the end of the hallway, my friend would let go of the rope and float across the hallway, from one side to the other, staying in the air for as long as possible, before she gradually came to rest on the floor. I watched this trick a few times and then I tried it with them. I stood in front of my friend so that we were both lifted off the ground as the car pulled us along and then, when we let go of the rope, we floated across the hallway, back and forth, until we came to rest on the floor. It was a feat of faith - if you believed you could fly, you could.
Later, I was running along another hallway, searching for the right door to go through so that I could find my car. It was night and I passed few people as I ran. I noticed art books on shelves lining the walls at the entrance of the hallway and then doors upon doors leading to other places. At the other end of the hallway, I found an old friend. She asked me to return a leaflet that she had loaned to me some time before. I started to search through my papers and books that appeared on shelves and desks, looking for the leaflet. I found old cheques, written out to me, that I had not cashed.

bird boy & the sea

I was sitting with a group of old men around a wooden table on a wharf. We watched as a small boy, perhaps two or three years old, wandered over to the wooden fence that bordered the wharf and peered into the ocean below. I thought out loud that I would have to rescue him if he jumped in the water and, sure enough, he slipped through the railing and plunged into the sea. I jumped up, ran the few feet to the fence, and leapt over using my hands on the fence to catapult me off the jetty and into the air. I dived into the water next to the boy who was sinking down into the depths. I grabbed him and swam up through the greenish, cloudy ocean toward the light at the water's surface. We saw two grey nurse sharks circling below us - a mother and its child. I wanted the boy to see and acknowledge the sharks so that he wouldn't be so fast to jump into the ocean again. We surfaced and I pushed him back up the wooden ladder so that he could climb onto the wharf to safety. He turned into a small red, bottle green and white robin and flew away and then circled back, returning to the jetty and the group of old men, now a powerful eagle.

leech

I was terribly thirsty so I bent to drink from an outside tap. As I sipped the water, I worried that it might be contaminated or that creatures might live inside the pipes. I stood and a huge leech slipped out of the tap and bore straight into the flesh of my stomach. The leech was about the length of an average house brick and wormy pink, with a thin 'tail' at either end. Just before the leech fully disappeared inside me, I grabbed the tail between my fingers and pulled hard. I slowly dragged it out and then threw the leech as far away as I could throw it. It shot back across the ground and leapt into the air toward me. Again, I grabbed the leech as it attempted to burrow into my skin. This time, the leech changed shape as I held it tightly in my fingers: six or seven leech heads on stalks flowered out of one end and waved around, orange mouths gaping wide, filled with small sharp teeth. The leech tried to suck at my hand, drawing blood at one end and, while I tried to pull it off, the other end of the leech continued its attempts to burrow into my flesh. Suddenly the leech reverted to its former singular shape and shot across to a small child, boring into her body. Again, I grabbed the leech by the tail before it could disappear and pulled it out.

shoes in a secret room

I was inside a rambling old house of many levels, in a room on the second top floor. There were several people with me who had just returned from the top level where they had found some fantastic shoes that they said were free for the taking. I admired the shoes as they were so unusual and decided to venture up the winding stairs and corridors to the room with the shoes. I climbed the steep staircase and crept along the hall. The walls closed in the the hall became a narrow tunnel; I had to crawl along on my hands and knees as the corridor turned and curled. Onward I crawled, feeling uneasy as the space became tighter and tighter. FInally, I found myself in a bright room, filled with natural light. In the centre of the room was a pile of suitcases and shelves on which the most stylish and sensational shoes were displayed - vintage shoes, new boots, and designer shoes. I selected a few pairs but then became fully aware of my surroundings. I realised that this was someone's bedroom and that we were taking shoes that belonged to the absent occupant. I put the shoes back on the shelves and hurried back along the claustrophobic corridors so that I could tell the others and prevent them from taking what didn't belong to them.

falling & reflection

I was in an elevator with several other people. Instead of simply moving up and down between floors, the lift veered sideways, shooting left and right erratically. Finally, it hurtled down, rushing toward the ground. We were not sure if we were going to die. Just before hitting the ground, the elevator braked and we all emerged, shaken but unhurt.
Next, my good friend A and I were walking through a building toward the exit door, in the city of Newcastle. Outside, night was falling. The sky was the wonderful periwinkle blue of twilight. We were carrying folders and books under our arms and were dressed for business. I understood somehow that we were on the board for an organisation of interest and that we were also visiting Sydney. As we walked together to our meeting, we reflected on how twenty years earlier we had walked together through the streets of Sydney wearing our comfortable dancing clothes, carrying our books, when we were students together.

cleaning house & spider rescue

I was helping to clean our family home in preparation for visitors. Everything had obviously been neglected for some time. There were hessian sacks and sheets covering the floor. I pulled them up, revealing the floor beneath, and swept it clean. We weeded, polished, dusted and swept the entire space. Outside, I could see a beautiful courtyard that had brick paths bordering the area in a rectangular shape with a garden in the centre. I walked through the courtyard and climbed onto the roof of the open-walled shed at the back of the garden. I cleaned the roof and then thought I would climb back down by squeezing between the roof and the walls, so that I could collect some flowers for the house. As I was about to edge through the gap, I spied a large spider in its web just under the roof. I could see that it was idle but I felt a wave of anxiety rise within me. I decided to climb down the way I had climbed up but it had all changed. I couldn't find another way down and would have to wriggle through the gap next to the spider. I began to imagine how many more spiders there might be hiding under the shed roof amidst the foliage and my anxiety became unbearable. I lay down on the roof, my fingers feeling the cracks between the planks of wood and tried to call out. I could see my mother and father in the window back at the house. I called out again and again, trying to be heard, but my voice was just a whisper. Finally I managed some volume and both of my parents heard me. My father jumped out of the window and leapt through the air, crossing the entire courtyard without laying a foot on it, leaping an impossible distance onto the roof of the shed. I was amazed at the seemingly super-human power he had summoned in response to his daughter's distress.

strange family

I was visiting a family that lived in an outer suburb of Newcastle. The father had died only the day before but the family was faring reasonably well. The mother, an elderly woman, was short and quite rounded and she had the most prominent nose: a great curved beak jutting out from her face alarmingly. She wore a headscarf and a house apron tied around her waist. Although she welcomed me into her home, she preferred to keep her own company. She stayed in a room underneath the house, sitting on a reclining armchair pulled as close to the old television set as she could manage, and watched programs to block out the world. I spent some time with her children: an assortment of red-haired young women and dark-haired young men. They were all peculiarly old-fashioned, like people from another time. The girls wore spotted smock-like pinafores over white blouses and their skin was pale and freckled. We sat at a large dining table and proceeded to eat and talk. The oldest male stood and tapped his glass with a spoon, indicating that he had something to say and that we should all pay attention. I do not recall what he said but I noticed that he looked a lot like a man I knew when I was a teenager. I wondered how they were related or if this was indeed him. I left the house and felt grateful for my own family.

cherry, performing and old man

I dyed my hair a shade of cherry: deep pink brown with luscious berry streaks. I found two dark pinks lipsticks, quite different to shades I would choose in waking life, and thought that they would match nicely with my new hair colour. I tried the first lipstick but it crumbled in its case as it was so old. I threw it away. The second lipstick was creamy and moist. I applied it and felt satisfied.
Next, I was about to perform in a show; at times the show was in a theatre and at times it was in an outdoor auditorium space. I was ready to walk down the stairs into the audience, arriving from the rear of the theatre, when I bumped into a mentor of mine. I told her that I that I had not been singing in public for some years and I spoke of the nerves that choked me and of my desire to overcome them. She told me that, besides singing as the last act in the show, I would be acting in a short play earlier in the evening. I could not remember rehearsing the play and felt quite panicked, knowing that I had no idea about the lines or even the concept of the play itself. Nevertheless, I was prepared to perform and continued down the stairs into the audience where I would wait for my cue.
Next, I recall another show about to begin. I had been invited to see it but I had discovered that a particular performer was the lead in the show and I instantly lost interest. I crept into the filling auditorium to recover a few of my belongings that I had placed on a seat in the back row. Particularly, I was looking for my toothbrush so that I could brush my teeth. I left the theatre as quietly as possible.
Finally, B and I were walking through the main street of Maleny. It was very different to the street as it is in waking life, but I knew that I was in Maleny. We passed a busker who had a dangerous energy. He was of indefinite age although I could see that he probably looked a lot older than he was because of a rough and scarred life. He was wearing an old, worn flannelette shirt and ripped trousers, sported a beard, and we could smell him as we walked past. He reeked. B walked ahead of me and slipped into a vintage store, perhaps to lose the man who seemed to follow us up the street. By the time I reached the store, I walked in but couldn't see her. I felt sure that the man was following us and looked for somewhere to hide. For a moment, I was distracted by a cherry silk top hanging among the vintage clothing, but upon closer examination, it was covered in stains. I saw a changing room covered by an old curtain, so I pulled the curtain aside. B was in there, hiding, so I joined her and we both hid from the man. Sure enough, he followed us in and hunted for us amid the vintage wares. He soon spotted the changing room and walked over; we could smell him coming. He tugged at the curtain and we tried in vain to hold it fast. He opened it and stuck his head through, sneering at us. B managed to leave the store, waiting for me outside. She became another person entirely: a young, blonde woman. From inside the shop, I watched as the man went outside and embraced the young woman. She looked surprised, perhaps even repulsed, but she also swooned at his touch. She said that she had not felt such passion in an embrace for the longest time.

sloping floor

I was in a huge auditorium with shiny wooden floors and raked seating, enough to seat several thousand people. The floor sloped down toward the stage and the auditorium was empty apart from a woman I know and me. I was in there to collect something I had left behind. I searched the identical rows, looking for the seat where I had been sitting before the auditorium emptied. I located it and found the thing which I cannot now recall. I was preoccupied by the sloping floor that seemed to be steeper and more slippery than before. I called out a warning to my friend and stepped out of the row into the side aisle and, sure enough, I started to slide, to skate, rapidly down the floor, which was now a very steep hill, toward the flat brick wall under the raised stage. I rocketed down at an alarming speed and tried to prepare myself for impact. I thwacked into the wall but was unhurt. I could then see a few other people doing their best to negotiate the dangerously sloping floor as they shot toward the same brick wall.

old house and bad driving

I was living in a rambling old house with several others. There seemed to be a group of men and a group of women. The four women and I were sharing the large L-shaped lounge room and dining room, and the men slept elsewhere in the house, probably in the bedrooms. The women and I were doing our best to arrange the furniture and clean the space. Each of us had a queen sized bed, plus there were tables, a lounge suite, clothing, a television, shelves and rugs to consider. We moved my bed and the round dining table into the dining room space. I was quite happy as I had slightly more privacy than the others as well as the advantage of natural light; one wall was lined with windows. We arranged the other three beds at the far corners of the lounge room and placed the lounge suite in the centre of the room, both because it acted as a room divider and it was the best vantage point from where to view the television. Some of the narrow tables we placed on top of one another against the walls, opting for floor space over table surface space. We then scooped armfuls of clothing from the ground and did our best to organise our wardrobes. The only disadvantage of my 'bedroom' space was that it was so far away from where our clothes were to be kept, in the hall space just off the other end of the lounge room.
Next, I was driving home - home being the place described above. B was beside me and, although I was not driving fast, I suddenly had to stop to avoid hitting the car in front. I realised that I was driving a manual car and momentarily forgot how to drive it. I couldn't find the foot brake so I pulled on the handbrake, stopping the car only a hair space from the vehicle in front. The line of traffic inched forward, starting and stopping, but each time I accelerated I had great difficulty braking the car even though I was driving slowly. At one point I even put my hand through the windscreen and pushed the car in front of us away as we approached it, because otherwise we would have nudged it forward. We passed a police car on our right and I hoped they would not notice us. I wondered if I had been drinking because I was driving so erratically, but I couldn't remember having done so.

ancestors and path

I was sitting in a hall filled with people who were seated in rows before a raised platform serving as a stage. From my seat against the back wall, I could see everyone in the space. There was some kind of extreme church service underway. A preacher was whipping the crowd into a frenzy and people were responding by loosing control, calling out and fainting. Arms were lifted to the heavens and there was much singing. I did my best not to stand out but I felt uncomfortable; I joined the singing very quietly but that was all. Even singing, my own voice sounded loud and close, as though I had my hands over my ears. I wanted to leave the space as I did not feel that it was genuine or real.
Next, I was in a room with old friends. I seemed to be staying at their house. I could see photographs of my family decorating the walls. I wondered why they were there. I picked up one photograph and pointed out my mother and my father at a younger age. I also pointed out myself, but then, as I looked closely, I realised it wasn't me but an aunt on my mother's side. I didn't correct myself but wondered that I seemed to look so similar to her in the photo.
Next, I was in a large room with a group of elderly women. Some of them were women I knew when I was a child, church friends of my grandmother; others were ancestors - great grandmothers, great aunts and women who had lived and died perhaps a hundred or so years ago. We were standing and seated around a large wooden table that occupied most of the room, preparing for a formal meal together. My sister was there also. One of the women said to me that what I was wearing was alright for now, but that I would have to change into something more suitable for a 'relative dinner'. I was alarmed as I was sure that I had not packed anything more formal than what I was wearing. I felt that there would be no pleasing anyone and that I would rather leave than try. I also felt that I would be judged for my life and life choices. I spoke briefly with my sister and we planned to leave soon. She went to fetch her backpack so that we could continue trekking. Before I left, I sat at the table for an announcement: a woman was about to arrive who had been a martyr in her time. Apparently she lived at least a hundred years ago and that she had been crucified; they compared her suffering to that of Jesus Christ. She arrived, a hunched, frail ancient woman wearing a moss green dress. Rather than sitting at the table, she slipped underneath it, crawled across the floor to where I was sitting and started biting my arm which was protected somewhat by my long, thick sleeves. I lay on the floor next to her and gently took my arm away, wondering why she was biting me. I didn't want to hurt her and thought she might have a message, some piece of wisdom for me. As I looked at her, I noticed how fresh and young her skin was and how bright her eyes, and I told her so. She told me that her name was Fun. I helped her to her feet and supported her back, walking her out of the room and toward another table - a stall at a fete, surrounded by women. As we walked, she turned into a small doll that I held in my hand and waved at the women. They all wanted her as she made them laugh and started calling out her name: Fun.
Next, I was on the grounds of an institution where I had built something special although I am not sure what it was or if it was tangible. I was prevented from entering the space where I could find out by a high wire fence. I thought of scaling the fence but I could see three strands of barbed wire lining the top and I suspected that it might be an electric fence. Sure enough, I watched as one person tried to climb it and received an electric shock at the top. On the other side of the fence, I could see a large game of football or soccer going on. The ball was kicked over the fence and I caught it for a moment with my legs before it rolled down the hill. A young woman followed the ball; I watched her unusual method of climbing over the fence by climbing up and sitting on the wire fence to weigh it down, slipping backwards under the lowest of the three wires, and backflipping off the fence. She fetched the ball and repeated the move, back into the fenced area. I copied her actions and found myself inside the fence. Standing watching me was a tiny boy, about two years old, and I knew he was my child. I hugged and kissed him, told him I loved him, and then let him go. I knew that he would not remember this and that he thought he had no mother.

sand wall and crocodile

I was with a group of people, a passenger in a car, driving somewhere up north. We stopped near a beach and all piled out of the car. It was very hot and the air was salty. I stripped off down to my underpants and walked toward the ocean. There was a small sand wall in my way and I tried to scale it. It was just taller than me. Another of our party ran and jumped at the wall, climbing over it with little difficulty. I had more trouble, the sand crumbling under my hands as I gripped the top, bringing me back to the ground several times. I was aware of someone watching me, behind me, and I wished I was wearing something more flattering than the dark blue pants. Finally, I made it over the sand wall. I walked down the shore toward the pale green sea. On this side of the wall, it was even hotter, the air briny and blowing sand about, stinging my skin. I saw the person who climbed the wall, already swimming out of the sea, preparing to go back to the car. He called out a warning about the salt water crocodiles that frequented the area. I cautiously waded in, relieved by the cool water, but immediately felt a bite. A small crocodile snapped at me. He was under a metre long but quite vicious. I grabbed him by the snout and the tail and threw him back into the water as far as I could throw. I tried to walk back up the shore, abandoning my thoughts of a swim, but the crocodile scampered out of the water toward me, snapping at my heels. A second time, I threw him back into the water and tried to leave. Yet again, the crocodile raced back at me. I had time to consider that I would be more frightened if it were a snake because it may be poisonous, and remembered that I had had a similar dream many times before. Now, I thought, it was time to throw the crocodile back into the ocean in real life. Again, I threw him into the sea and this time I made it back over the sand wall to where the others were waiting by the car.

running water

I was showering, enjoying the rush of water over my body. Someone came into the shower and, although not bothering me overly, I hopped out as it felt a little crowded. The person clung to me, trying to prevent me from leaving. I pried their arms from around my waist and then, still naked, saw a friend of mine who I hold dear. We embraced.
Next, I remember sitting at a table with a couple who had travelled to Australia from a European country, a man and a woman. We ate in companionable silence, only talking now and again. The man went walking in the rain and when he returned, he had turned into a very fluffy orange kitten. His hair was damp and stuck in clumps around his torso, and he was frisky from his adventure. I too decided to go walking in the rain.

witch

I was walking up Dornoch Terrace with a companion who was at times, my brother, at other times, a female friend. Rather than walking directly up the road, we steered off the footpath at every house, venturing into the gardens and, at times, the homes. We seemed to be simply looking around. In one front garden, I noticed that the flowers, mainly crimson and purple, were partially shrouded by black cloth. I wondered if it was a method of protecting the young plants from the hot sun and that they might be uncovered at the cooler times of day. As we stepped out of this garden, an old woman came out of the house and watched us. I sensed that she was a witch, just like the kind in children's stories. We wandered into the next garden and I could see her watching us from behind the wall that separated the two gardens; her garden was higher so that she could see over the wall and down into the next door neighbour's garden. Suddenly, we were in the house and she was inside with us, masquerading as the owner. I noticed that she was wearing a cream blouse, brown skirt, brown socks and slippers. Her face was very lined and quite hard, and she had bright brown eyes. Without asking us, she presented us with tea, steaming in brown mugs. I tried to tell her that I didn't want any but she motioned to me as though she didn't understand. I started to climb the steep staircase that had appeared, leading out of the dark room and into the light above, quietly urging my friend to come. I mouthed to her that I was scared and that we should go. She had some tea and then followed me up the stairs. I was concerned that she had accepted the tea. As we were walking back through the garden toward the street, a young woman fell into step beside us. She was very attractive in a boyish way and I could see that my friend liked her. I turned to face the young woman and said that I knew that she was really the witch, that she had taken someone else's identity, was pretending to be someone she wasn't, and then I blew on her face. She instantly turned back into the witch. I suggested that she go back home and have a nice night in rather than following us about. She agreed and looked happy for a moment, and said that it was four hundred years today since she had been practising as a witch and she might go home and celebrate. I knew then that she was indeed the witch from such tales as Hansel and Gretle. My friend turned back into my brother and we walked hand in hand up the road, still feeling a little frightened. Some young people spilled out of a home onto the footpath, taking photographs of each other. One girl, the primary subject of most of the photos, posed, contorting her long, angular body to a growing rhythm. It was truly nightmarish. The phone beside my bed made a beeping sound which woke me up.

abstract

I was in the church hall of the suburb I grew up in, at the church that I attended when I was young. I was painting a large abstract painting on a canvas that was leaning against an easel, sitting with my back to the far wall of the hall so that I could see the whole room, particularly the glass entry doors and the adjoining kitchen. Initially, all my focus was on a tiny patch of the painting, carefully mixing a yellow paint on a palette on my lap and then brushing it onto the canvas. I observed the paint on the palette closely as I mixed it, ensuring the dark blue blob of oil paint that appeared was thoroughly blended into the yellow. Suddenly my focus widened to take in the whole painting. I was surprised at what I had created as it was very unlike my usual style, but I could see that it was going to be a great work. B called out and said she was popping next door to buy a bottle of wine. I became aware that there were a couple of our friends there also. Just as B returned with the wine, I looked up and saw the clock - it was ten to eight in the morning and I realised that I had to be at the printers at eight. I rushed, disappointed that I could not stay and enjoy the friendship, the painting and the wine. I threw off my clothes, which were splashed with brightly coloured paint, and hurriedly put on clothes suitable for a meeting, asked the others to save me a glass of wine, and ran out the door. I remembered that I had parked my car on a side street, so I crossed the road and walked toward the car. Two young people, a teenage boy and girl, sidled up beside me, uncomfortably close. I knew that they were attempting to steal my handbag. I walked fast, trying to escape them, and felt that they had chosen the wrong person if they were after a wad of cash. I woke.

contrasts: ship

I crossed the grounds of an institution, perhaps a school. As I walked down the wide cement path, I passed a man who I have not seen in many years. He was very slender, wearing old clothes in brown and green and had the same feminine attributes as I remember him to possess in waking life. I lifted his hand to my mouth and kissed his fingers lightly in greeting. He smiled at me and said that I was funny, that one moment I could be very reserved and quiet, and the next I could be outgoing and warm. He said something about sliding up and down the scales. He walked with me in the direction I was going and, before I left him to enter a building, we sat down in the shade on the cement to talk for a moment longer. He rolled around on the ground and I was surprised as I knew that this institution frowned upon such things, indeed, it was even daring of us to be sitting.
Time elapsed. I was standing inside a huge ship, looking out the window. We were far, far out at sea. The waves around us were tremendously high. Outside was a large salt water swimming pool; the water was let in from the ocean. There were scores of men swimming in the pool and playing a violent game much like volleyball. The men were the biggest, most brutal looking men I have ever seen. There was a small section of the pool partially divided from the main pool by a wall, a narrow opening in the wall allowing water and people to go pass through. I was watching the pool, waiting for my turn to swim. I was nervous as I was wearing a two-piece swimming costume and felt a great contrast between my feminine body and the brawny bodies of the men, and I felt exposed. Finally I stepped outside into the salty air. I climbed down the tall white, metal ladder from the deck down into the pool area and could feel the icy cold air rising from the deep ocean water. I could see my pale feet as I crossed over to the partially protected section of the pool and noticed that I had red painted toenails. I lowered myself into the water, the cold sucking my stomach in, and found that I quite enjoyed the temperature. I swam under the water and experienced the engulfing silence, a contrast to the loud shouts and bellows of the men pounding the water and each other above. When I surfaced, the ship was being tipped by an enormous wave. The ship slowly rolled to one side, almost to the point of no return, and I, heart beating wildly, thought I was going to die. I could see the wave towering above us, threatening to turn the ship or crash over it, but then it passed under and the ship righted itself. It happened a second time, just as terrifying as the first. The sheer size and power of the wave took my breath away. I then found that I had been washed through the opening in the wall and I was in the dangerous waters of the main pool. Mammoth, beast-like men battled nearby and I urgently swam back through the opening in the wall and into the safe small section. I ducked my head under the water one more time and climbed back out of the pool and up the steep ladder to the safety of the upper deck. I was struck by the overwhelming size of everything, the ship, the waves and the men.

skipping, singing, flying

I was in Newcastle, staying with my family, in both of the houses that we lived in when I was growing up. I decided to step out for a walk, heading down the road, past my grandparents' home, past the neighbours' houses, down onto Parkway Avenue. Rather than walking, I skipped, and instead of a standard skip I tapped each foot twice when placing it in front - a very rhythmic skip. I noticed how the homes had changed in the twenty years since I lived there: houses had extensions, new paint jobs, makeovers and new owners. As I skipped, I started to sing "Hopelessly Devoted to You", but instead of singing it in the style for which it is famous, I sang a very quirky version complete with a marching beat on a snare drum which sounded out of nowhere. I continued along the street until I reached a lane which I ventured up, having to climb steep rocks toward the end. I stepped out of my body for a moment and watched as I tried to climb. I saw myself become a man with a moustache, heard him claim that the rock was too steep to scale, and watched as he took hold of a bar with both hands and was hoisted away. I returned to my body and found that I too could take hold of a bar that lifted me out of the rocky lane, high into the sky. I soared through the air, still singing to the fabulous marching beat, gliding above the suburbs of Newcastle. Whilst flying and singing, I decided upon an eclectic song list that I would rehearse and perform once I landed in the right spot.

racing and cat

I was rushing to get somewhere and with me, guiding me, was a fluffy ginger cat. I raced through an underground depot of sorts, navigating my way through turnstiles, tunnels and crowds of people, the cat always in front of me. I turned into a section where the traffic was thick and fast. I was alarmed to see an enormous black train off the rails, driving up the road toward me, threatening to mow me down. I rushed forward, away from the train, and a second train, as big as the first, sped around the corner, the convoy of carriages behind it swinging out as it curled around the bend. The cat and I ran past it and climbed up a steep flight of cement stairs until I reached a ticket counter. I bought a ticket and asked the attendant which station I should go to; he said number 28. We ran up another flight of stairs to a hallway where the doors leading to each station were numbered. There were about 40 stations and there seemed to be no pattern at all as to how the numbers had been allocated; 4 sat next to 39, 2 next to 13 and so on. I frantically searched for the right number and realised that the cat was waiting for me in the doorway of number 28. I ran after the cat down some stairs onto the platform and there was our train, pulling away from the station. The cat sprang on board and I ran beside the train, grabbed hold of a metal bar and hoisted myself through the doors, into the carriage. Once there, I asked a couple of people where this train was going to check that it was indeed the right one. I looked up to see the lovely fluffy cat lying down on the floor at the front of the carriage near the driver's seat. He was totally relaxed, stretched out, watching me.

snakes

I was in the bedroom of my teenage years. Someone else was sleeping in my single bed though I was not concerned, rather I felt nurturing and protective of the person who needed to sleep. I saw something under the bed and reached under to find a small black and white snake coiled there, waiting to slither out when the light was turned off. I held the snake fast, one hand tight around its neck just below the head to prevent it from biting me, and the other around the base of its tail to stop it from curling around my wrist or writhing out of my control. I had a dilemma as the window was shut and there was nowhere to throw the snake and I didn't want to kill it, but at the same time I needed to keep the person in my bed from harm. I tried throwing the snake across the room, hoping that it would leave us in peace, but it slithered back under the bed waiting to attack in the dark. I grabbed it a second and third time, repeating the process, but it came back more aggressively each time. Finally, my father walked into the room and threw the snake down with such force that he knocked its head off its body. Relieved, though disturbed that we had killed it, I said goodnight to the person in my bed but just before I turned off the light, I noticed another snake coiled under the cover of the bed, hidden by the bedspread. I braced myself and reached under the bed to grab the snake. This one was a luminous green, much larger and doubly aggressive. I held this snake in the same way, around the tail and below the head. I had to keep adjusting my grip as the snake was very strong and kept managing to wriggle through my hands. It thrashed about, red gash of a mouth open and teeth bared, angry that it was captive. I did not dare to throw this snake, knowing that it was far too dangerous, but waited for my father to return to help me kill it. This time I knew that there was no room for mercy, it was time to take action to protect the person who was in the bed who I then understood was my sister.

letting go and ocean

I was in Newcastle on Hunter Street, riding up toward the beach on a bicycle, just on night fall. There was no other traffic about and I felt free to ride either on the road or the footpath. I realised that I was not wearing a helmet just as I noticed the police station on the opposite side of the street so I hopped off and pushed the bike along the path until I was well past the station and then continued riding up the street. At the end, the street formed a cul-de-sac atop a cliff, perched high above the rocks and waves below, and was enclosed by a rickety old white wooden fence. I left the bike and went to lean over the fence next to my brother who was waiting for me there. We stood alongside a woman who I didn't know; she was also leaning over the fence, looking down into the ocean. We were in semi-darkness and somehow we moved out from behind the fence to the rocks at the top of the cliff beyond. I became aware of how slippery the ground was, how dangerously sloping. I went down on all fours to better grip the rock and urged my brother away from the edge. He laughed at my caution, knowing that we were safe. I could feel barnacles and shells stuck fast to the rocky cliff face as I crawled back behind the fence. Suddenly the fence gave way and the woman plunged down into the sea. I was concerned and leaned over the edge to see if I could see her; there she was, floating happily in the water below. My brother and I decided to swim so we let ourselves fall off the edge of the cliff, dropping into the dark ocean. The water was deep and cool. I felt wonderfully buoyant and had a sense of the immensity of the ocean. We played in the water, diving under the slow moving waves as night fell, safe in the shadow of the cliff.

exam

I was about to sit for an exam. I arrived early and found my notes, desperately studying as I was anxious to perform well. I read and reread the information while other people arrived and took their places at desks that were lined up in neat rows in the room. No one else seemed to be as concerned as I felt about the exam. Finally, the supervisor arrived, handed out the examination papers and started the clock. I read the first question again and again but the words seemed not to fit together and by the time I read the end of the sentence I had forgotten what the beginning of the sentence said. This occurred with every question in the four page test. I felt incredibly scattered and could not decipher the meaning of any of the questions or remember the answers that I had studied. Time was up. Other people handed in their papers but I waited, holding onto mine. For some reason, now that the clock had stopped and the pressure was lifted, I immediately felt clear and calm. My supervisor asked me for my paper and I asked for just a few minutes while I completed it as I had not answered a single question. She allowed it and I began the paper, writing as fast as I could, but this time with certainty. It turned out that every answer was there in the question - all I needed to do was see it. I completed the paper knowing that I had done my best.

flower power

I was driving my car through a park next to a school. The grounds were vast and green and, when I came to it, the car park was nearly empty. I parked my car with ease and stepped out to see where I was and what was happening. People began to arrive - old classmates from primary school dressed up for a special occasion. I realised that it was a school reunion and that a dance was to take place in the assembly area. I was not dressed appropriately so I decided to walk the short distance to my house to have a shower and get dressed. I did not want to take the car as I feared that the car park would be full by the time I returned. I walked down the street, hearing the sounds of music and laughter in the distance as more people arrived. As I crossed the road toward my house, I paused on the median strip where there was a wonderful camellia bush growing. The flowers were white and pink with soft open petals and upright stamen. I wanted one to put in my hair. The lady who tended the bush came out of her house and crossed over to me, to see what I was doing. I asked her if I could have a flower for my hair and she found the prettiest of all the flowers and cut it for me. I was not sure what I would have to wear at the dance but I felt lovely because I had a beautiful flower.

old woman

B and I were in the house of an elderly relative who was sometimes my great grandmother and sometimes B's relative. We were staying with her for a short time and while we were there we were helping her around the house. I felt some guilt as I realised how much she normally had to cope with on her own. At one point we were standing in a dark hallway. I looked up at B and the old woman and screamed. I am not sure why. The woman fainted and I felt awful. I lay beside her and talked her through it and then, when she was ready to stand, I stood with her, using my body to lever her up from the floor to an upright position. I needed to put something in the kitchen rubbish bin so I walked into the kitchen and over to the fireplace where the bin was placed. It was overflowing. Food scraps, flower stalks and all sorts of rubbish were piled on the floor around the bin. It looked as though plates had been scraped directly into the open boxes and bags that spilled around the bin. B and I started to clean up. I found a huge orange garbage bag and shook it open, filling it with air. I held it while B started to throw the rubbish inside. We were nearly finished when the bottom of the bag split open and the rubbish tipped out, all of the floor. We would have to begin again.

Later, B and I were browsing in the cosmetics department of a store. Again we were with an elderly female relative. We tested fragrances and admired the colours of the makeup. Afterwards, we travelled down a lift to the street. I had the feeling that we were in a different part of the world, that we had crossed a river or a sea and now we were aiming to arrive somewhere. The urban street stretched up before us, incredibly steep. We could not see over the peak but I imagined that the street continued to dip and rise over the hills beyond. The day grew dark and from the top of the hill, water began to trickle down the gutters. The trickle grew and soon water was rushing like a stream and then a river down the hill. We waded as far as we could go and then succumbed to the water, holding onto poles to anchor ourselves and ducking under the rising water as it flowed over our heads. Night fell and finally the water began to subside. We slept for a while and woke in the morning with water still ankle deep but the threat was gone. Only B and I were there. A car pulled up beside us and there, lying on the back seat, was our elderly relative. I was glad that she was safe but I was worried about her. She was asleep with tube in her nose to help her breathe.

bomb and haunted street

I was in Paddington in Brisbane and somehow I became involved with a man who was planning an attack on the neighbourhood. I didn't much like him and felt anxious in his presence. At some point, I was with my friend F, walking up a completely deserted Caxton Street, when the man ran past, threw something at me and ran away. I caught what he threw and then looked down to see that I was holding a bomb. I didn't know what to do or if it was real. A vast drain opened before me underneath a terrace house so I threw the bomb down the drain. I had no idea if it would explode but I hoped that I had averted a disaster. Nothing happened. I walked over and looked through the window of the house above the drain and it turned out to be a restaurant. It was Christmas day and a family I know was dining in the front room of the restaurant. The mother, who used to be my singing teacher, saw me and came out to say hello. Through the glass I could see the rest of the family enjoying each others' company. The mother emerged from the wooden doored entrance and I noticed the lovely floral fabric of the loose dress that she was wearing and her beautiful red hair. We hugged one another warmly and walked across the street. I wanted to get the rest of the family out of the building, just in case the bomb blew up, but for some reason I could not speak of the bomb openly. The woman and I went into a shop across the road. We opened the glass swinging door, sounding a bell, and slipped into the quiet shop. Its shelves were lined with old books and dust. There was no one in attendance. After a while, we went back out and I noticed that that my singing teacher friend was holding a small dog with a funny shaped snout. She said that she was glad that I had given her the dog whilst we were in the shop but I knew I had not given it to her. I then realised that the street was haunted. We crossed back over the road and she passed the dog to me. I stroked his silky hair and nursed him whilst we went into a vintage shop. I was still concerned about the bomb somewhere in the drain below the restaurant where her family were eating a Christmas lunch, but I followed her into the shop.

singing

I was sitting around a large table with about twenty others, gathered in a meeting room somewhere. Each of us was to sing a song; we were auditioning for something. I wanted to sing and was excited about my turn approaching, but I was nervous as I couldn't think of a song to which I knew all the words. While others were singing, I trawled my memory, searching for a suitable song that I knew well enough to perform.

peacocks

Two plump peacocks perched up high, overlooking the room. Neither was the usual colour of peacocks: one was blood red with deep blue and emerald green markings and the other was sapphire blue with rich red and green markings. I was walking past and looked up to see them sitting there as though on guard. I stopped awhile, admiring their beauty, before walking on.

issues

I was walking through a city mall, outside in the sunshine. I saw a tall slender woman with dark hair who I thought was very beautiful and extremely stylish. Another woman, her twin, was preparing to perform a show. She must not have been an identical twin as she has lighter hair, a mid-brown colour, and a more tawny complexion, though she was just as tall. As I passed her, she looked into my face - a moment - and then I kept walking. I decided to go back and watch the show so I went up to the stage where there were high bar stools placed around, pulled one out and sat. I understood that she and her sister were from a very wealthy family and the first sister was adorned by her wealth but the second sister used her wealth to change the world. I then saw an interview with her, projected onto a screen; she was sitting with her girlfriend, a petite young woman with blue eyes and freckles and they were openly affectionate.
Next, I was in a communal bathroom in the building where I was living. I spoke with the woman who is the Manager of the building that I actually live in. I left the building and then turned back having forgotten something in my apartment. At the front door, I scrambled to find my key but I couldn't find anything like it on the key ring. Finally, I just tried any old key and the door opened. Inside were four young women sitting on the couch and a fifth young woman standing in the bedroom, looking scared to see me. I felt that the fifth girl was my niece or a charge. They were all stoned and I was angry. I shooed them all out except the standing girl who I berated.
Next, to vent my anger, I walked outside into the city and stumbled upon a very small cinema showing confrontational films. I took a seat at the back and soon other people came in. Someone passed me a pair of eye glasses which put on for a moment and then removed, not needing to wear them. I realised that they belonged to my friend who I could see sitting a few rows in front, leaning forward, attentive to the film. She was featured in the film, speaking out in favour of nudity and acceptance of various confrontational issues. Her glasses were coming apart - the arm away from the lens frame - and I decided to fix them. I tried to simply tighten the screw but it popped out and so did a tiny spring. I picked up the spring and the screw to reinsert them, but they jumped out of my fingers. Over the next few minutes, the spring kept changing shape, uncoiling, coiling up the wrong way, falling under the seat and so on and so forth, making it impossible to fix the glasses. Finally I couldn't find either the screw or the spring and asked someone to pass them to me but what they gave me was an enormous light blue screw, a matching bolt and a pin - nothing suitable to mend the glasses. I woke up.

kidnapped

I was kidnapped by a married couple, much like a couple I know in waking life. They took me from where I was camped with many other people and, after a time, we drove away up the coast. I gathered that the original camping site was somewhere around Bellingen and we were heading toward Queensland. We stopped at a service station so they could get some petrol and food. Whilst they were paying, I tried to tell a man, quietly, that I had been kidnapped; I asked for his help. I could see that he didn't believe me and walked away. Outside, walking back to the car, I felt cold, poorly dressed for the oncoming night. I saw a woman walk toward me dressed in long red velvet robes. She raised her eyebrows but I wasn't sure if she was suspicious of us, or merely commenting on my state of dress - I was disheveled and underdressed. The kidnapper woman pulled at my arm and shoved me into the car and we drove off until we reached a beach further up the coast. The couple seemed to be walking thin line between being kind and being cruel. They gave me some food to eat and we sat on the shore, looking at the moon and the land across the sea, which seemed to be lit up by sunlight and glowed with warmth, while we sat here in the dark and cold. A few days later, we were in a room with a few other people. The couple addressed me by a fictitious name. A woman that I knew when she was a girl came in spoke with the couple but slipped me a note which I hid under the piece of paper I was writing on. I could see that she recognised me and knew that something was terribly amiss. I put both pieces of paper in my handbag and put it aside to read later when the opportunity arose. There seemed to be pages and pages of paper stuffed into my bag and I tried to push it down so as not to arouse the kidnappers' suspicion. Meanwhile, the kidnapper man fell asleep and another man came in carrying precious stones and jewels. He lay them out on a low table, spreading them with his palm, until the table glittered with stones. The kidnapper woman seemed enthralled and even benevolent for a moment while her husband was asleep. She allowed me to scoop up beautiful stones and hold them in both hands, admiring them for just a moment. They shone brilliantly: lustrous pearls, nuggets of silver, warm pink stones and stones that gleamed with every colour of the rainbow. One stone, a rose quartz, dropped onto the ground and woke the man, but as he woke, I realised that he was both the man sleeping and the man with the stones. I woke.

wild ride

I was a passenger in a car with my partner. We were driving around unfamiliar roads but from the terrain, I assumed that we were somewhere on the coast of NSW around Hat Head. I was busy with sending a text to someone and when I looked up, B had moved into the back seat of the car and the steering wheel was unattended. I could see oncoming traffic and could feel the car speeding up. I desperately tried to move from the passenger seat into the driver's seat but seemed trapped by the seatbelt and the space in which I had to move. I tried to reach the brakes to no avail whilst I was steering the car from my side position - it all felt wrong. We turned a corner, swinging down a street next to a marsh - wild, scrubby trees grew along the bank. Rather than continuing our reckless ride, I steered the car off the road and into a tree, crashing and bringing the car to a sudden halt. I knew that it would look as though I had failed but I felt it was the only thing that I could have done.

caravan

I needed to store a painting and to find another. I went into the backyard behind an old white house. The yard sloped down, away from the house, leading to a lake. It was night time and everything was difficult to see. There was a double-decker caravan parked in the yard - this seemed to be where I lived. I climbed inside the van and then up the internal stairs which were built to one side of the caravan. I knew that I had to get to the upper level where I would be able to find the painting I needed and store the one I was holding. The painting in my arms was primarily black with brightly coloured shapes - pink, blue, red and yellow - like boats, floating around in the darkness. The staircase seemed terribly narrow and I was concerned that my weight and the slope of the yard would mean that the caravan would roll or slide into the lake. The caravan dislodged and began to swing around in wide circles, my weight acting as a pendulum. Eventually, I freed myself, rolling from the van and found someone to help me hammer pegs into the ground, fastening the caravan into place again, as you would a tent.

each bigger than the last

I was with my friend in the dark and she was crying. I didn't know why but to make her feel better, I found what I thought was a coarse and scratchy cloth, and rubbed her back with it. It seemed to help and she quieted her crying and felt better. I looked around us as the light brightened and realised that we were on King Street in Newcastle, looking through the windows of a boutique. Inside were beautiful designer clothes, hanging around the walls. I could see that the fabrics were of a fine quality: luxurious silks, draping velvets, sheer gauzes, in wonderful rich colours and crafted into superb garments. I decided to come back here soon, when I was in a position to shop. We walked out of the shop through the glass door and I realised I was still carrying the cloth with which I had rubbed my friend's back. I looked at it and saw that it was actually an extremely beautiful top made of sheer creamy silk decorated with bronze sequins. I quietly slipped back into the shop and arranged it on a glass shelf so that it looked like a display, and left before anyone noticed me. I caught up with my friend, walking back up the street, but we heard barking and looked around to see guard dogs, agitated, sniffing out an intruder. I felt that it must be me, that someone thought that I intended to steal the top. The dogs stopped at the boundaries of the land where the shop was built. Narrow trenches marked the border of the property and we could see behind the shop to vacant land out the back. There were at least six dogs that we could see, snarling and stalking their prey, each bigger than the last. We could also see the corpses of a couple of dogs that they had killed, wasting on the barren vacant lot. We walked away quickly, passing some houses on our right. A woman and child returned home - it was growing late in the day - and we saw the flash of a small golden puppy whisk by. Immediately, a huge lion raced past, golden mane flying back in curls like the lion from The Wizard of Oz, and disappeared into the house. I followed, looking for the lion, but when I searched the property, there was no lion to be seen, just the small golden puppy.
Next, I was sitting with many other people on the rim of the Newcastle cliffs, overlooking the ocean. We were simultaneously watching the waves and watching a documentary about a freak wave incident in which one man, referred to as 'The Fireman', had saved the day and earned a medal. The camera scanned over the faces of the cast of a musical, all men, singing, wearing fire fighter uniforms. Each man appeared to be tougher looking, braver than the next as we wondered which of these men would turn out to be 'The Fireman'. Finally the camera rested on the face of a man, not as handsome or of traditionally heroic appearance as the others around, who turned out to be him. He sang with gusto, his face creasing into happy weathered lines, whist the documentary showed recreated footage of him saving people in the freak wave.
The documentary finished and our attention turned to the present. Someone said that we were expecting a tsunami today. I wondered why then we were perched on the cliffs watching the waves, rather than travelling as far from here as possible. I sat with a man, very much like 'The Fireman' and saw the first wave coming: a giant wave but just the predecessor of the biggest wave. The wave hit us on the cliff and we all lay down, flat to the ground, feeling it thunder over us. The man lay on top of me, further shielding me from the impact. It passed and we all sat back up, watching the water as another wave grew and approached. Again, we pressed ourselves flat to the ground, going under the wave rather than fighting it. More waves grew and approached, each bigger than the last, and we knew to expect eleven of these mammoth waves rising out of the ocean.

fish hook

I was staying in a house around the corner from the home my family built. A few of us were sleeping there and sometime during the early hours of the morning, around four, we woke and prepared to leave. It was time. I packed a bag with my clothes and toiletries; everything I had seemed to be very practical, even a little drab. I also packed the bag of my friend who wasn't there. Where my belongings were very ordinary, everything in her bag was glitzy: silver clothing, costume jewellry, hot pink slips and baubles. Something stabbed my finger as I organised her bag. I pulled out my hand and saw that a fish hook had pierced the pointer finger on my right hand. I removed the hook and reached back into the bag but again, a fish hook pierced the same finger in exactly the same spot. I removed the hook and second time and looked at the wound and into her bag. I could see that there were a dozen more fish hooks inside. I went into a more central room where other people were packing and mentioned to someone that I needed to find some antiseptic and a bandaid to cover the hole, as I was concerned that it may become infected and that I would be caught on a hook a third time, simply because the hole was already there. The person seemed overly concerned and told a man (the adult version of a childhood school friend who I haven't seen since high school) that he needed to operate. He seemed very stressed and I wondered if he was sober as he prepared a needle. He asked me if I had removed all of the hook and I looked and saw that there was a thin silver wire poking out of the hole. He found some pliers and pulled the wire out, ripping the wound open. Blood sprayed the wall and the chest of his white t-shirt but the pain was dull. He then proceeded to stitch the wound back together and seemed to make a terrible mess of the stitching. I doubted that this was the right thing to do.

workmen

I was sitting on the floor with B in our apartment, looking out the windows, down to where men were working below. It was not the apartment where I really live now, but an imaginary place. We were talking about this and that and then I warned B that a man was going to look through the window and she should not be alarmed. Sure enough, one of the workmen had climbed a ladder up to our window and looked through. A second workman looked through the other window on the right and passed through a plastic plate with scraps left on it. As he handed it to me, I asked him what I was meant to do with it and he told me I should rinse it. I suggested that he was capable of rinsing it himself, and pointed him in the direction of the kitchen. He was followed by a few more workmen who all came through the window, went into the kitchen and cleaned up after their lunch and also helped themselves to the refrigerator. I thought that perhaps I had been a little harsh with the first workman so I went into the kitchen and asked another man if he needed any help. He answered that he was fine, that I didn't need to clean up after him and addressed me by my name. I remembered that I knew him and so I touched his shoulder as he passed. My familiarity was witnessed by very short workman who came and started joking with me and then touching me, not inappropriately, but annoyingly and in a way that invaded my personal space. At first I humoured him, then I pushed him away, but he kept on at it, trying, for some reason, to poke his finger in my eye. I yelled at him not to touch me and finally asked the others in the room if they could stop him. He seemed to become increasingly menacing until he finally stopped. I left the room and went into what had become a public toilet to wash my face. I heard a sound behind me and I started, splashing water at the poor girl who stood there looking a little surprised. I apologised and told her that I had been upset. I then saw B, who had not been there for the event but looked as though she had learned of it., walking down the hall toward me, and I felt relieved.

visiting or home?

I was staying at my maternal grandparents' home in Newcastle for a week or so. They were alive and well, though they have been long gone from this world. They were as I remember them when they were young enough to be well, active and happy, but still old enough to be 'grandparently'. Whilst I was with them, they simply went about their business, tending to the home and garden. Nanny did the things she did when she was alive: planted seeds, weeded, burnt off the dead wood and leaves 'down the back', mended socks, danced to music, cooked cakes and talked to the dog. Pa did things typical of Pa: read the paper, washed and wiped up, tinkered with something that needed fixing, laughed and joked, wrote things down with his careful hands and talked to Nanny. I felt so welcome there. It was easy to stay awhile with them, so natural, and I felt none of the sadness I feel now in recalling it and writing it down; I felt happy. I felt I should offer to help them with whatever needed doing, and though they allowed me to contribute, it was not expected. It was as though their home was a living, breathing organism that they naturally looked after, without resentment or any of the stress that seems to accompany the rushed house-cleaning of life now. As part of my stay, I had a few outings with old friends: R and A, who, in my dream, were interchangeable. There seemed to be an event like a wedding or a christening, for which I was home, and it revolved around my friend. I remember the final day of the stay, dressing in the last clean pair of socks in my suitcase (I am not sure why I didn't wash them in my grandparents' laundry) and a rather haphazard outfit. Originally we were going to go to the zoo but A told me that we would be too late, that the last bus had gone, so we decided instead to go out and have a coffee. We found ourselves in an otherwise empty Chinese restaurant and we were seated at a table set for six. I sat with my back to the wall and A sat facing me, with her back to the open restaurant. I looked at the menu and was surprised to see that the prices altered radically depending upon where you were seated. The same meal cost me, seated where I was, $100 more than A. The waiter ushered four young men in and seated them at our table. This was slightly uncomfortable to say the least. A wanted to swap places with me and I agreed, so we exchanged seats. A vegetable and rice noodle dish was served, steaming on the table. I tried to talk with A but there was suddenly a white pillar between us, around which I had to duck to see her let alone speak with her. I could understand why this seat was much less expensive than where A now sat.

japanese drumming troupe

I was part of a group of Japanese people who were performing for some dinner guests at a Japanese restaurant in the Newcastle mall. We walked up the mall and into a hall where there were a couple of restaurants. The master of the troupe led us up the stairs toward one of the restaurants and I wondered if we were going to the right one. Once there, we filed into a private room where the important international guests were seated. our master announced that we were two hundred drummers welcoming them. I sat with the master at the table at one end, and two women of our party sat with the guests at the other end, whilst one after the other of the drumming troupe came into the room and stood in neat rows close to the table. They were all wearing white and they began to drum a complex rhythm on a variety of instruments including small traditional drums, wood blocks, and other things, some placed in front of them and others hanging about their necks so that they beat their chests. Most of the drummers were quite young: children or youths, trained from a young age. When finished, one of the women sitting at the opposite end of the table read out a beautiful poem and riddle, appearing not to need her script. She spoke in a deliberately slow and calm voice, full of authority. I saw the master scribbling something hastily onto a plate at my right, and when she had finished he passed the plate to me. The crowd waited. I looked at the plate but could not see anything written there as there was food covering it, but when I tipped the plate, I uncovered the message. I began to read it aloud, slowly, not so much imitating the first reader as slowed by my ability to understand the cryptic sentences. I do not now recall exactly what was written, but I remember, as I read, some of the words turned into pictures, photographs of people, so that I had to interpret the meaning and convey it rather than just follow the script. I heard my voice and it sounded sure although I felt so uncertain that I was reading it correctly. When finished, the master of the group of dinner guests commanded our drumming troupe out of the room and everyone quietly filed back outside except our master, the two women and me who remained seated at the table. I wondered at the hierarchy of both groups and though I would not last long having to be obedient and subservient. I was given a plate of food to eat and I felt grateful. The dinner guests' master then ordered that I should go into the adjoining room known as the lounge room. I checked with the drumming troupe master to see if I should go, and he nodded and left the room. I went inside and the other man followed me in. I tried to sit but knew that I lacked the grace and modesty of the other women trained in this way. My kimono opened at the knees and my trousers underneath showed through. The man then demonstrated ways in which to practise precise and discreet movements. He lay on one of the lounges and did exercise akin to childhood somersaults. He then cam over with a pair of chopsticks and playfully stabbed them at me, aiming at my ears. I did not like it but humoured him so he would not become aggressive, and did my best to exit the room. I had to keep pushing him away, treating him as though he were a badly behaved child.

travelling home

I was about to catch an aeroplane flying from Sydney to Brisbane, and I wanted to call B to tell her what time I was arriving. I went into a news agent where I intended to buy a magazine for the flight. I felt as though I had too much racing through my mind to concentrate on reading, so I searched for something with lots of images that I could admire. I found a copy of Black and White magazine, but rather than nude photography, it featured photographs from all of the world of various scenes: geography, landscape, architecture, people and more. I had to step across a pond with a wooden step in the middle, through a small crowd, to reach the magazine, and by the time I bent over to pick it up, it had turned into a pair of shoes. I picked up the shoes and looked at them, but couldn't remember why I wanted them for the flight. I decided to leave the shop, stepping back across the pond and through the small crowd. I had to ask an elderly lady if I could get past her, and she turned to her friend and remarked that I sounded just like her when she was younger. I couldn't hear any resemblance between my voice and hers and I walked out of the shop with the memory of her aged body clad in a red skirt, a white blouse, a cardigan and sensible shoes. The dream seemed to skip and I was underground in a subway that connected Fortitude Valley and Brisbane city. Attached to the underground railway were tunnels, staircases, and a labyrinth of shops lining the walls. It was late in the day, almost evening, and I was trying to get home. The shops all looked fascinating and I thought that if I had realised that I could have walked so easily from the Valley to the city, I would make the journey more often. I needed to go through a door that led up the stairs to the street above, but the door was closing. I raced over and the man let me through but only just; the door grazed the sides of head and pushed against my arms, slamming behind me. Once through, I walked up the stairs. The man followed me and made mention of his property in the Hunter Valley. He was much older than me and sported a grey beard. He gave me his card and suggested that I should visit he and his family down there. Back on the street in the dark, I tried to call B on my mobile, but every time I entered the number, I pushed incorrect buttons. Time and time again, I attempted to make the call, but each time, I did something wrong and had to begin again.

disaster

We were sitting in a room with raked seating, much like a theatre or a cinema, except where the stage or screen would have been were giant windows looking out over Brisbane. We were high up as though the building was perched on Mount Cootha as we could see a great expanse of night sky. As we watched, aeroplanes passed across the skyline, flying in a line sloping up from left to right, having taken off at Brisbane Airport, until they disappeared out of view. From our vantage point, we witnessed one after the other, depart Brisbane. At first, they left only one every minute or so, but soon, they dovetailed one another, enormous people carriers flying in front of jets that were flying in front of domestic aeroplanes. There rose a sense of panic in the theatre: surely this couldn't be right. Planes were evacuating the city at an alarming rate as though something dire was about to occur. We wondered if there was enough air space and navigational space to allow for so many planes in the sky at once. Though the aeroplanes were a couple of kilometres from the theatre, we could see in some of the windows and identify the faces of passengers. There seemed to be lots of international jumbo jets carrying hundreds of people out of Brisbane. Suddenly, one of the large people carriers which seemed to be an American plane, exploded in the sky. I saw the faces of some of the passengers just a fraction of a second before it blew up and there was one man that stood out to me: a tall looking African American man of about 45 to 55 years old. We didn't know if the plane had been bombed or what had happened and the quiet panic that had been growing erupted into terror. I was desperate to find B and I thought she was sitting toward the front of the theatre, so I raced down the central aisle stairs to the front of the room. For a moment, as I stood at the front of the room, I realised that I was the only person running and I wondered if I had succumbed to panic too quickly, but there was little I could do about it. From there I could see B and ran up two steps to where she was sitting and ushered her out of her seat and up the aisle, back to where I had saved a spot for her. I didn't want to be apart in the face of disaster. She sat down then wanted to sit on right hand side of me as she wasn't comfortable on my left, so I swapped seats and covered her with a grey blanket to ensure she was comfortable. We then watched a news broadcast on a screen that appeared to the right of the windows where places still passed and sometimes exploded.

reckless driving

I was in Newcastle, standing outside the house my family built. A blue VW came along the street and parked outside. I don't know who was driving it. I jumped in and drove around the block a few times, pretending that this was the first time I had ever driven a car. I wanted to surprise my family with my seemingly innate driving skills. I was going a little too fast, steering wildly around the corners, but I was enjoying the ride. I drove further away, around the immediate suburb, sitting high in the seat as though perched on the car like riding a bike rather that sitting inside it. I then realised three things: I was not wearing a seatbelt; this was a manual car and, although in waking life I have driven manual cars for years, I could not recall how to change gears; and I couldn't reach the breaks. I hurtled along, looking for a good place to pull over so I could put on the seat belt but the suburb had developed a lot and was much busier than when I lived there, over twenty years ago. The road sides were jammed tight with parked cars or else had yellow lines and 'no stopping' signs, warning against parking. I slowed at the traffic lights using the upward sloping hill as a means to decrease my pace; they turned green before I could adjust the seat belt or observe the gears to jog my memory about how to drive this car well. I turned up the street toward home, again using the slope to decrease my speed, and saw another car driving in the wrong lane, heading directly toward me. I sounded the horn and the driver shifted into the correct lane, but looked at me, disgruntled, as though I shouldn't have honked. I then saw that the road was semi-blocked off and that police cars were manning the area. I was nervous as I drove through, aware that at any moment I could be stopped and booked for not wearing my seat belt.

giant wave of change

I was searching for a place that we could go for a few days to get away, hopefully by the sea. I searched the Internet but the places I found for the budget I had were inappropriate - temporary houses made of cardboard, run down hotels, or nice places near the water that were too costly. I can remember seeing the prices of the places listed change as I watched them, rising or falling unpredictably. Suddenly we were staying in a house on a bay. The house had a rather old feel about it and was furnished with 70s style lounge chairs and furniture in browns and green. I left the bedroom, walked into the living room where some of my family were seated, and went to look out the large glass doors. I could see a vast body of water and an old wooden jetty below the house, down a steep cliff. The day was overcast with a green tinge to the sky and the water looked deep and brownish green. I was trying to ascertain if it would be safe to swim here. I glanced into the far horizon for a moment when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, something move in the water below, perhaps fish jumping. I wondered if there was something under the water scaring the fish. As I looked, I began to make out a fish-shaped shadow lurking in the water. It stayed relatively still and I wondered if it was a shark. It became clearer still and I could see that it was a giant fish, much like a gold fish but perhaps four metres long, waiting in the water. Suddenly, I was in the water down below the house, swimming with my sister or my brother: there was only one sibling with me but at times it was one of them and then the other - they were interchangeable. We felt unsettled as we swam and then saw a huge king wave coming. I knew that there was something dire wrong with the environment, that this was a point of great crisis. I felt the pull and drag of the water as the wave approached so I grabbed my sibling's hand and we dived as deep as we could go whilst the wave thundered over our heads. Surfacing, I saw the wave hit the cliff on which the house was perched, the tip of the wave slamming into the house, water rushing in the open glass doors. We saw another wave approaching so again we dived, waiting for the wave to pass. We surfaced and saw a third wave about to strike; we gulped air deep into our lungs and dived a third time. This time the wave seemed to go on and on. I held onto my sibling, forcing him/her to stay below for fear of surfacing to soon and being crushed by the power of the mammoth wave crashing against the cliff. When we finally surfaced, we were out of breath but safe. There were no more waves visible against the horizon. We climbed out of the water and ran up the stone stairs cut into the cliff, all the way back up to the house. My brother/sister splashed straight through the house and out onto the street, searching for our family. Before joining them, I went first to the bedroom, wading through ankle-deep water, to check if my friend was alright, but the room was bare. I looked for my handbag so we would have some money but it was gone. I supposed my friend must have grabbed it for me. I went to leave but hesitated, trying to think if there was anything else I should take to help us survive what felt like disaster and imminent homelessness. I thought about taking thongs so I could walk on stones under the water in this changed landscape, but felt that my feet would adapt as we walked. I went outside and saw my family waiting on the other side of the street. My friend was with them but the handbag was missing. I ran over, anxious about the wellbeing of everyone but glad that they were all there, and my friend began to talk about feeling exhausted. I felt it was strange considering the scale of what had just transpired that my friend was focussed on her own concerns.

unsteady

B and I were visiting K, a close friend. We were sitting in her lounge room and her baby was sleeping in the adjoining bedroom. Her mother walked in and joined us. It didn't strike me as odd at the time though she is no longer with us in waking life. We had a good conversation and then it was time to go. B and K went into the bedroom to see the baby and I intended to, but as I stood I felt unsteady on my feet. I had to haul myself up, leaning heavily on the back of the chair, and then as I walked across the room, I stumbled into furniture. The mother seemed not to notice and continued chatting with me. I missed the opportunity to see the baby as I was far too slow moving and felt I couldn't trust my body not to fall and wake him.
Next B and I were travelling up a street in our neighbourhood. I experienced the same unsteady, giddy feeling and fell onto the ground. B helped me up and we were observed by an older woman who was standing at the front window of her art gallery. The gallery was in a terrace house and I could see that there were three levels: below ground, ground level and an upstairs level. I wanted to go in but thought it best that I should visit another time as I might knock something over if I fell again.

moving too fast and not getting in

I was travelling down a street in the suburb where I grew up. I was with B and we were moving with some speed. We were neither walking nor driving, rather we seemed to be propelled along, hovering slightly above the ground, as though riding a skate board but with nothing between our feet and the ground. As we passed the Uniting church, B detoured so she could have a look inside. I slowed down and waited for her out the front. There were several dogs tied up outside the church, all barking joyfully. I avoided the bigger dogs and moved slightly out of reach. One of the smaller dogs broke free of his leash and bounded over to me. I knelt down to pat him - he had wonderfully soft pale gold hair, almost like down, and a dear little face. When B came out, I introduced them. I was sorry to leave him. We continued on until we reached the Anglican church further down the road. We 'parked' outside and then went into the church hall. There were quite a few people there, all waiting for something to begin. My friend, G, was there, but where most people were waiting in the hall, he had taken up residence in the Sunday School rooms underneath the church itself. It grew dark and I wanted to find G. I went outside, walked down the back of the church and looked through the Sunday School windows. I could see G sitting inside talking with a woman I know. I wanted to join them so I knocked on the window and G pointed to the way in. I lay down on the ground and tried to squeeze through the small space between the window and the floor. It was quite narrow and I wondered how L had gone inside as she is both taller and bigger than me. I called out to ask if there was another way in. G pointed to a door. I wondered why he had not told me of the best way in earlier and if I should go in at all.
Next I was driving a big brown car. I am not sure what kind of car it was but it was old and cumbersome. I was having trouble driving as I couldn't see out the window properly and I seemed to have trouble handling the steering and reaching the brakes. I suddenly realised that I was driving from the back seat and my vision was obscured by the seat. I needed to climb into the front but I was having great difficulty as the car was moving at great speed and I was on a highway.