Friday 30 May 2008

house & money truck

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

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

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

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

Thursday 29 May 2008

intruder in the family home

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

ocean cave

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

Tuesday 27 May 2008

shower & king wave

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

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

ride & rottweiler

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

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

Friday 23 May 2008

performance and teeth

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

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

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

tiger and bull

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

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

Tuesday 20 May 2008

pregnant

I was staying in a holiday cottage with my partner and I was pregnant. We seemed to be living there rather than on holidays and we seemed to spend an unusual amount of time under the floorboards rather than inside the cottage. The dream is not clear but I recall trying to decide where to go to have the baby. At first it seemed straightforward: we were living at the cottage therefore we would have the baby there. I then remembered that we actually lived in Brisbane but my family was in Newcastle, so I was not clear on where we should go. I wanted to be with my family for such an important occasion, but no place felt right.

flying in newcastle

I was in Newcastle, walking up the shore with my back to the ocean, heading across the sand. It was a very dark night. Suddenly, I was lifted into the air, rising rapidly up, riding the warm air current. Below me, the sand was studded with hundreds of tiny golden lights like fairy lights but with no electrical cords. The lights were sprinkled the along the shore, illuminating the patterns, holes and small caverns in the sand. The black sky was dotted with thousands of glittering stars, mirroring the twinkling sand. I felt an overwhelming surge of joy as I rose into the air and welcomed the thought of a flight over Newcastle. Just as I began to soar across the sky at the outskirts of the city, I lost my grip of the dream and woke.

baking

I was in the company of an old friend: a monk that I knew and loved well. We were catching up with one another and some other people that I held dear. It was time to eat and I went to fetch something satisfying in a nearby kitchen. In the kitchen, a woman was cooking a strange recipe. She had beaten hundreds of egg whites and set them aside whilst she arranged a dozen or so people in an enormous baking tray. She poured a sweet mixture into the tray which submerged the people up to their necks. She then laid the egg whites on top, smoothing them out with a huge spatula, so that just their heads were poking out. Finally, she spooned the egg white mixture on top of each of their heads before putting them in the oven. I was horrified to think that the people might be cooked, but she, and all of the people in the oven, seemed to think that they would just be a little warm, not baked. I was not convinced and waited with great agitation. As I waited, I imagined them roasted, dead, and had to clear my head of the image. When they were done, sure enough, the people were fine, but the mixture seemed, to me, undercooked. I served some up in bowls for my friends and took it back to them. They tried it and liked it but I was still not convinced. I found it way too runny and still felt skeptical about the method of cooking.

searching

I had made an arrangement to meet with a friend at her house. She had built a fire in the back yard and we were going to light the fire and enjoy a wine together. In my dream, I fell asleep as I was so very tired, and then awoke after the time I was meant to visit my friend. I tried to call her but things kept happening that delayed the call. Finally, I was able to reach her, but it was too late and we had to cancel the engagement.

Next, I was in Newcastle, in the city. I dressed in an unusual outfit: black skirt, black high-heeled boots, black top, stockings and coat, but with vermillion socks just showing above the boot line. For a moment, the socks were white as I was dressing, but the colour embarrassed me, looking totally inappropriate with my black attire, and they changed to a more suitable, if strange, colour and fabric to go with the outfit. I remember putting the boots on my feet and then, sitting, lifting one leg straight up in the air, admiring my black booted leg and amazed that I was still flexible. I left the building where I had been dressing and made my way through lanes and foyers to a stairwell with cement stairs. I climbed the stairs and on the way, I met a man wearing no shirt and with a white cockatoo perched on his shoulder. He said he was a butcher from the Hunter Valley and gave me some advice, which I cannot now recall. I emerged at street level and searched for the place that I was meant to go. I found a café and sat with a couple of people, a man and a woman, having a coffee. The man told me I was beautiful and I was surprised that he thought that. I thought he would prefer a different type of woman: tall and slender. I left the group, still trying to find the place that I was meant to be. I could see the buildings of Newcastle, old heritage listed places and newer office block buildings. I found a boutique that stocked gorgeous clothes and I wanted to go in but was apprehensive as I felt out of place. As I hesitated, I could see an image advertising an event that intrigued me, some strange mix of theatre, dance, fashion and art that was to be held in a great space above a shoe shop on the corner. I could also see an email (that magically appeared in the air before me) that a friend of mine had sent, RSVPing to the event. I wanted to go and wondered how my friend knew about it, particularly as he lived in Brisbane.

illustrations

I was looking through a book of illustrations. Each page held something unique and amazing. I studied the figures and their clothing, particularly intrigued by a figure of a young woman climbing stairs, wearing a long, full-skirted dress with a laced up back, ribbons criss-crossing all the way from the rear neck-line right down to the bottom of the skirt. I dropped the book and lost my place. I tried to find it again, searching for the page featuring the girl wearing such a fantastic dress, but I woke up.

hippotamus snake

I dreamed that a Hippopotamus Snake slithered toward me. It was about two metres long with a head proportionate to its length, shaped very similarly to a hippopotamus. It was charcoal grey with white stars and red stripes patterning its back. It wound its way behind my seat and changed into a long green snake of a different type. I grabbed the snake at both ends: behind its head and at its tail, careful to avoid the paddle shaped end of its tail where it had raised nodules containing its venom. It tried to bat me with its paddle, but I twisted my wrist in such a way as to avoid being touched. I walked to the window and threw it out, back into the wild garden.

design competition

I was taking part in a drawing and design competition. The event was held in a large hall, housing hundreds, maybe thousands of people, and I was sitting up the back on the right hand side. There was a stage up the front and everything was high-tech including screens magnifying the people on stage, video links to other parts of the world, a great sound system playing contemporary electronic music and more. A compare held up various items of clothing: a bodice, a skirt, a scarf, shoes and a handbag. They were all silver. She read out a script that outlined the rules of the competition and detailed the countries participating. The idea was to produce a magnificent clothing design, complete with hand-drawn model, incorporating the various items of clothing but completely unique. I knew what I wanted to draw and was ready with my pencils and paper. As soon as we were allowed, I chose a pencil and began to draw, but immediately my confidence began to falter. I was not convinced that I had chosen the correct pencil, and tried several more. The leads began to break, I sketched the model too low on the page, I couldn’t find an eraser—things began to go wrong and time was ticking by. I needed to find a clean sheet of paper and a sharp pencil, and I began to sort through trucks of my old belongings that appeared beside me. Everything was messy and dark. I put my hand into bags and, instead of art tools, I found fillets of meat: chicken, beef and lamb. I did not think the meat was mine but I knew that it needed to be refrigerated, so I packed it into bags and put it in a fridge near the stage. People were beginning to put their pencils down and I hadn’t even started my artwork. I knew that if I could just finish it, I would be in the running for the prize.

horses' rumps 2

Again, I dreamed that I was in the midst of many horses that were travelling in the same direction in which I was walking. Like my earlier dream, before me was a sea of horses’ rumps of various shades of brown, grey, white and black. I need to move at a faster speed than the horses, so I had to weave my way through their legs, placing my hand on their rumps so that they would let me pass without alarming them, else they may rear and kick me. As a child I learned never to walk behind a horse for fear of being kicked—I was mindful of this warning as I wound my way through the horses.

horses' rumps

I had to climb a hill, up a narrow lane which was fenced on either side. The lane was crowded with horses and a few donkeys, also travelling up the hill. As there were so many of them, they were moving at a slow speed and I needed to maneuver my way through them so that I would reach the top at a much faster rate. All I could see ahead was a sea of brown, grey, white and black horses’ rumps and donkeys’ rears. I had to duck and weave my way through their legs without worrying them; I was anxious that if I disturbed them, they would kick their strong legs back and injure me. I had no choice, so I chanced my climb to the top.

swing and found woman

I was on a wooden swing, swinging in wide arcs across a large room, back and forth, from one side of the room to the other and back again. The swing hung on thick ropes, suspended from a bar across the high ceiling. As I swung, a conversation was taking place below. I believe I could have been included in the conversation but I preferred to swing, stretching my legs out in front of me as I soared forward, and curling them back underneath me as I rushed back, the wind in my hair.

Next, I observed a family (much like watching a film although I was present in the walls) particularly identifying with a young woman in her twenties. She had gone to live with her new boyfriend, not knowing him very well, about five years earlier. She had noticed that he could be petulant, and even, at times, cruel. Just as she was beginning to have doubts about the relationship, he had an accident or an illness that left him bedridden. His mother and brothers moved in with them, and they treated her like a house slave. They were almost despotic, posing as ‘good’ people and telling her that she wasn’t good enough. They established rules and had ridiculous expectations of perfection, also insisting that she do everything in a conventional and traditional manner. His behaviour too, changed so that he made unfair demands of her and treated her with derision. She responded by conforming to their wishes, feeling somehow responsible to her boyfriend and sorry for him. She became quieter and quieter, doing everything she could to please. She answered questions with what she knew they would want to hear, doing her best to be ‘good’, and eventually lost touch with how she truly felt or what she thought about anything. One day, something triggered a change. She ran up the street, feeling the power of nature, enjoying the warmth of the sun. When she returned, she had found a new lease of life. She began to make things the way that she wanted, not conforming to their rigid ways of doing things. I watched as she made jewelry: she glued different coloured bangles together, one on top of the other, with no concern that each should sit precisely, rather, they sat haphazardly, at different angles. There was a fantastic beauty in the asymmetric design of her jewelry that she loved. Eventually, she left the house; she was not held prisoner, rather, her own submission kept her there. She went to a school where she began to study art and design. She made an emerald green skirt and I observed as she presented it to a teacher, standing on the sandstone steps of the college. The teacher noticed the intricacy of her design, the fabulous colours and detail, as well as the inconsistency of her tailoring. She understood that it was deliberate and saw the uniqueness of it, the genius. The young woman had found herself again.

underwire

I dreamed I had a pain in my chest. I found an underwire from a bra, beneath my skin, lost inside my breast. I moved it around, trying to maneuver it so that it would come out.

healers

I was sitting at a table. B and I were on one side of the table and two people, healers, were sitting on the other. They were showing us a ritual that was supposed to aide in the healing process. As they demonstrated, the ritual became increasingly dubious. It involved placing a shiny green sequin on the tip of your index finger and sticking it to the centre of your forehead, then flipping it over a few times without dropping it. There were others around us who seemed to believe what the couple were teaching, but B and I were very skeptical – it was only a sequin.

Later, B and I walked into a café which the male healer now owned. We sampled one of his dishes: an avocado, baby spinach and snail salad in a pumpkin puree. He implied that it had special healing properties. Again, I was uncertain.

Later again, he was sitting in a room, singing against the far back wall, playing the guitar and singing a song. The song had a country feel to it and he was singing with a slight American accent. He hardly seemed like the same man and I quite enjoyed his song, but again, I wondered about the truth of the situation and who he really was.

haircut

I was in Newcastle and I decided that I needed a haircut. I walked along a busy street, searching for a hair salon. I found one that had time for an appointment. I sat down and the young hair stylist wrapped a smock around my shoulders and proceeded to comb through my hair. Someone else was speaking with me so I was momentarily distracted from what she was doing. When my attention returned to her, I realised that she had parted my hair around my head and was preparing to streak the crown section. I thought that the method she was using was dated. I also began to watch her in the mirror and noticed that she rolled her eyes and appeared to be bored with her work. I stopped her and told her that I did not want to continue with the hair appointment and when she asked why, I told her that she was obviously jaded with her career, that her vibration was negative and that I did not want to risk a bad haircut. She was initially offended but then agreed that she was, indeed, bored and frustrated with her job. I suggested that she search for something more fulfilling to her and then left the salon. I still wanted to get my hair done, so I continued looking for a hairdresser. I could see a large shopping centre across the road, so I made my way up the street to the crossing. I was half walking, half gliding along the footpath and as I walked, I realised that I missed my car that was back in Brisbane. I entered the car park which fronted the shopping complex, and noticed that there were very few cars parked there. Upon entering the shopping centre, I realised that it must be a public holiday as only the supermarket was open, and the rest of the complex was in semi-darkness. I travelled up the escalator to the next level, just in case I found an open hair salon. From this level, I could see down to the other levels of the centre. There seemed to be some construction happening and there was no railing on the balcony wall. Just as I realised this, I heard footsteps behind me and I felt vulnerable. It turned out to be a youngish man who went to walk by, but I swayed and fell to the ground, suddenly feeling very strange about the lack of railing and the unfinished mezzanine floor, as though we might fall to our deaths. The man stopped to help me get to my feet and encouraged me to keep walking.

escape and three birds

I was a young boy who had been orphaned, but I was lucky enough to receive a scholarship to a good school. The school was very small, only one teacher, and initially I was encouraged and did very well. I made a very special friend—our bond would be lifelong. As time passed, the teacher developed a disliking for me; I was not sure why. I decided it would be best if I left the school. My friend and I had a very tearful farewell, but she understood that I was being treated cruelly and that I should go. I made my way down through the neglected back yard behind the school, retracing the steps that I had taken when I walked into the school grounds a year or so before. I knew that I had to go through a hole in the fence and walk for many miles to reach my home. Before I could reach the fence, a few people that I know gathered around a table in the yard. I did not want to alert them to my leaving, so I pretended that everything was alright, and went to see them. I found I had very little to say to them; I did not relate to them anymore. Three birds appeared, shaped much like chickens but with pretty heads like doves. Each bird was a cloud of candy-coloured feathers, puffs of fairy floss: an icing pink bird and a lemon sorbet bird alighted my right arm, their claws scratching me and their beaks grazing my skin as they nibbled my arm. The third bird, sugar white, was wrapped in fine chicken wire. I picked her up and held her in my left arm, cooing to her and telling her that it would be alright; she would be free soon. The birds disappeared and I went down the shed at the rear of the yard, to wash my hands and arms. I rubbed tea tree oil into the light scratches the birds made on my arms, ensuring they would not become infected. I waited for the right moment to make my escape.

two friends

I visited my friend in another part of Australia. She was welcoming but I sensed a distance. Her partner appeared and hinted that my friend had changed, she said she was a ‘bad girl’. I asked why she was bad, what she had been doing. She answered that she was taking drugs and they laughed. I not only felt the distance but a separation that comes with someone who you think you know suddenly being someone that you no longer recognise. Another close mutual friend appeared and I felt relieved. I turned my attention to her. She was lovely but our interaction was strained. The first friend took my hand as we walked down a road, walking with our mutual friend leading the way. I began to sing a song about young friendship, and they both joined in. The leader friend sang in a particularly clever and tuneful way. I asked her if she had the gift of mimicry and she said that she didn’t. I felt awkward as though my question may have offended her, although I felt great admiration and love. The first friend again took my hand, urging me away. We walked back to her house where she expressed her disappointment about how she and our mutual friend now related. I felt torn between the two.

going home

I was trying to go home to Newcastle to visit my family. I caught trains and buses; I walked across cities, over bridges, and through underpasses. I wept when I saw another woman saying goodbye to her family, knowing that it may be much longer than she ever imagined, before she would be reunited with them. I said goodbye to people at the airport, and then found myself back in their home where I had been staying, packing my bags again. Again I said my goodbyes. I drove a plane through the streets, maneuvering it so that the wide wing span would not clip anything we passed, heading toward the airport. I waited in my car to transport others to the airport, and then, once we were on our way, the car skidded out from under me, rearing up and throwing my passengers out onto the street. I climbed up many flights of stairs, aiming to reach street level so I could travel to the airport, but as I was about to climb the final few stairs, I fell down a hole and plummeted downward, waiting to hit the bottom. As I fell further and further down, I also grew more concerned about the probable hard impact upon landing. I reached out and grabbed a pole, skidding to a halt. I then had to climb back up out of the hole, using a ladder that appeared. It took all my upper body strength to climb the ladder as many of the rungs were missing or snapped off in my hands upon grasping them. I passed people in their apartments and spoke briefly with a Japanese man who had been practising a martial art using a sword until he saw me climbing past his window. Finally, I climbed out of the hole and emerged into the street. It was late and I was still no closer to flying home.