old crap

I was lying in bed in the bedroom I lived in when I was growing up in Newcastle, looking at the ceiling. In the socket where the light bulb would normally be was a blob of brown muck, slowly being pushed through the hole. Brown stuff was seeping through in other cracks in the ceiling too. Soon, wet brown slime began to drip down onto the bed, dirtying the blankets. I went into my parents’ room where my mother was lying on the bed. I blew a raspberry on her tummy and then told her about the mess. Next, we were in my bedroom with a young man who we had contracted to fix the problem. I could see that the ceiling panels had been dislodged by the force of the strange brown sludge. He had finished cleaning and was telling us about what he had discovered. It was cockroach faeces that had collected over the years in the cavity between the ceiling and the roof. Apparently there was even a shoot much like a chimney flue, specifically designed to catch cockroach droppings, but ours had way too much and was overflowing into the whole cavity and would have filled the bedroom had I not noticed it. The man, my mother and I all had brown residue on our faces and bodies, and I could even taste it. I couldn’t wait to wash it off.

feral kittens

I was in the family house where I grew up and I was bothered by a sound that I went to investigate. I went into the garage and then opened a small knee-high door that lead to the foundations of the house. There, I could see feral kittens, perhaps thirty or so, running around and fighting with each other. I knew that some of them were kittens that I had reared and cared for, but now they were mixed up with so many imposter cats that I could not tell which was which. I knew I had to clear the house of the cats as they were creating havoc.

ice cream

I was in the family home where I grew up and I was eating ice cream. Not one, but a several ice creams in ice cream cones, each a different colour. In waking life, I haven’t eaten ice cream for many years so I wondered why I was eating it now. I didn’t enjoy it but I didn’t stop eating it, cone after cone. A big bucket sat beside me on the carpet, full of other ice cream cones. When I had finished eating them all, I sat and noticed how my stomach felt distended and fat, so large that it rested on my thighs. I felt gross and woke up.

meeting

B and I were in the downstairs room of our house - not the house where we live in waking life. It felt like a rumpus room with its cement floors and sliding glass doors that opened out onto the back yard. A couple of people entered the room to attend a meeting about my work. As we sat down on the four chairs, I felt a little disgruntled as someone sat on my usual office chair and I had to sit on a chair without wheels. I felt as though the two visitors presumed that B was the person in charge and I was her off-sider. The woman, a tall and big person with a very masculine energy, sat on my right but just about sat on top of me - her leg actually rested on mine. I asked her to move her chair so as to give me some room. She appeared to be put out but then said that she had always been hopeless at awareness of personal space and moved her chair. The meeting started but I suddenly realised that I was inappropriately dressed. I was wearing my grey singlet which is a few sizes too big for me so that it gapes at the arm holes and neck, and I was not wearing a bra. I looked over at B to see if she had noticed and I wondered how I would gain the visitors' respect whilst I was looking so dowdy.

old house

I was living in an old, ramshackle house—a rambling Queenslander, though I am not certain it was in Queensland. I needed to have bath in the old bathtub. The bathroom was sunken, a few steps down, and the entire floor was tiled. The bath already had water in it and I didn’t want to waste it but it was clearly cold and dirty. I let the water out, scrubbing the bath as it drained. Once empty, I could see that it still needed a good scrub. I washed it out again and cleaned the grout between the tiles around it where it nested into the walls. I filled the bath with water and bathed. Someone interrupted me and, after they left, I double-checked the lock, clicking it fast. Once bathed, I went through the maze of corridors back to my bedroom at the front. Half-naked, I danced to the music that was playing and sang along. I became aware that someone was watching me from outside the window. I walked across the room and peered through the glass into the darkness outside, my hands around my eyes as I pressed my fact against the glass, blocking the glare of the bedroom lights. Outside, standing behind the fence, was my friend K. I called out to her, delighted that she was there. I went outside and we embraced and spoke of our connection and the fact that I had felt her presence.
Next, I was in the same house at another time. Again, K was there but was outside the house. She was running up and down the hill, getting fit. I admired her determination and wanted to join her.

clouds

I was in the house of my teenage years, staring out my bedroom window. I could see the clouds rushing past, golden against an orange sky—a spectacular sunset though quite surreal as the speed of the clouds passing was so fast. I turned my head and realised that I had been watching the clouds in a mirror, that the window was actually on the other side of me. Someone came into the room and I was momentarily disturbed, and then they left. I walked down the internal stairs, through the entry and out onto the footpath. There, I was hassled by some passing men who didn’t seem dangerous but too attentive none-the-less. My gay friend J appeared and I was so pleased to see him. I embraced him and in his presence, the other men left. I went back upstairs into my bedroom where I resumed watching the sky.

assignment & bus

I was in a hall with other people and I realised that I had a university assignment to do that was due in an hour or so. I hurriedly began to write whatever came into my head, doing my best but also knowing that I could do so much better if I had more time. I decided to ask for an extension. I found the lecturer in the courtyard, told her about my circumstance, and she agreed. I then found my friend R who offered me a lift. He was driving a bus and I sat in the front seat on the opposite side to him. He screeched to a halt at a red traffic light and the bus rolled over, my side hitting the road first. I had enough time to think about death and wonder if I would be crushed. I felt the weight of R as he was thrown across the bus and heard the glass windows smashing under my head as they shattered upon impact with the bitumen. The bus continued to roll and I woke up.

unit and letters

We had moved into a ground floor unit on the other side of the city. My bedroom had a window opening out to the left-hand side of the large house that had been divided into one and two bedroom units. I was half asleep in the bedroom, lying on top of the bed. Everything was messy and I did not feel at home. In my half-sleep, I rolled out the window and landed on the dirt path that ran down the side of the house. I woke properly and walked around to the front of the house where B was standing on the driveway. I felt that things needed to be put into order and so I checked the letterbox to see if anything had arrived at the new address. Sure enough, there was a great pile of letters, many of them addressed to me. I scooped up the pile and took them back to my bedroom, intending to sort through them there. I entered back through the window instead of through a door. On the bed was a note from SB. I wondered how she had known where we lived since we had arrived so recently, and I marveled that I had only been out to the driveway and back but I had missed her visit.

books, sensuality and night

I went underground, down into the tunnels of a train station. I carried with me my handbag and a collection of treasured books. I met some young men who were friendly enough but stole my books from me. I left my handbag and my boots in a corner and ran through the tunnels, searching for my belongings. I could see a couple of people carrying my books away. I spoke with one woman who had taken a book that was not mine and I asked her to pay for it as I would need to reimburse the woman who had lent it to me. She agreed, gave me some money, and walked away with the book. I had to let go of the other books and I hoped that whoever had them now would appreciate them. I went back to find my handbag and boots where I had left them and put them back on.

Next, I was reclining in a chair, in a room with other women and I was flicking through a magazine with decadent pictures of fashion, art and beauty. I came to a feature on illustration depicting women and bodies in a sensual style. I became aware of my own body and realised that I was naked under my dress which was bunched up around my thighs. B came in with two bowls of chocolate ice cream, one of which she placed on the table in front of me. (In waking life I don't eat ice cream at all.) I attempted to sit up properly to eat the ice cream but I was so relaxed that I could hardly move. I saw that the ice cream was spilling over the side of the rather beautiful brown earthenware bowl, and tried to right it. I moved it from on top of the pile of typed pages that it was sitting on. Still, the ice cream pooled toward the lip of the bowl, almost spilling onto the table. Again I went to level the bowl but this time B whispered 'allow me'.

Next, we were walking at night time through an unknown suburb. We passed a park and I felt trepidation, not sure who would be lurking there. We saw a few couples loitering but no one of bad intent. We ventured down a dark, narrow street flanked by sleeping houses on both sides. My sense of danger grew as we walked further along the street. A group of about six young men came into view. They were like lithe shadows frisking and tussling as they came nearer, obviously drunk and leaving a party. Most of them passed us without trouble but one began to throw empty wine bottles at us. I caught the first one by the neck, the second smashed on the ground beside us. The third and fourth I caught easily. The group travelled on.

I realised that I was alone and wondered where B had gone. I ran up to the end of the street and there she was, inside a stranger's car, parking it. She had been able to pick the lock and move the car that had been left in the middle of the road. I felt admiration for her fearlessness and skill.

dance lesson & cleaning

I was sitting inside an office, looking out the window. I could see down to the street where people were coming and going. It was on dusk and across the street I could see through a window on the second floor, into a dance studio above a shop. The sign outside said “Basque Dancing” and inside was a male teacher with a couple of adult students. From his manner, I understood that he was a master at the form but also proud and beautiful, like a peacock. The women fawned on him a little, and he looked to be used to the attention. Regardless, I was fascinated by the dance which was provocative, energetic and hypnotic. I wanted to learn, not certain that this was precisely the dance style for me, but realising that I needed to try to know. The class finished and the dance studio lights went out. The man appeared in the street below, walking briskly to a sports car parked below my window. I called out to him and told him that I wanted to learn his dance. He glanced at me dismissively and replied that he was on his way to perform at a convention or some such thing, and he had no time to talk. I pulled my hair back from my face and he took a second look. I told him I used to dance but I had not danced for a very long time; that though I was not now in condition, I could be again; that the dance was within me. He walked over, looked me up and down, saying that he could now see. He said I was an attractive woman and told me to come to class. He left and I moved from my window seat. I walked away, a little unsure of his character but pleased to be invited to his studio. I felt a little old and dowdy, but knew that I would be transformed. I went through a conference room where most of the staff were watching a presentation in the dark, and entered another room, a kitchen and meeting room, through a door in the side wall. Only a couple of people seated at the rear of the meeting noticed me walk through. In the fluorescent brightness of this room, I could see that it was in need of a good clean. Dust coated the bench tops and caked on the white surfaces in lines where the flat shelves met the walls. Coffee rings stained the central table and though it was tidy, even efficiently organised, there was evidence of lack of care. I knew that the cleaners employed to do this had been neglectful. I wanted to clean the room so that it was ready for the staff when they finished their meeting, but I was simultaneously aware that I would be prioritising this room over my own work which needed my attention when I returned to my desk. My work in question was the proofreading and design of books. If I cleaned it, I hoped that no one would walk in and see me in case they relegated the cleaning job to me from here on in, or that the act of servicing their needs would lower their respect for me, and wondered if I was using my time and the organisation’s time wisely, by doing a job that was not mine, over my work. I cleaned it as quickly as I could and then left the room to return to my work.

drumming

I was tapping my hands against a smooth metal surface like a car’s roof or a metal barrel. I am not sure what. It produced a resonant, deep sound like a timpani drum. I beat out a rhythm: strong left-hand bass beats punctuated with lighter right-hand accents. It was different to the sounds we are used to hearing in western music; slightly off kilter. A tall African man appeared beside me, intent on the drumming. I stopped but he urged me on. I resumed drumming and for a time the world was pinpointed in the deep sound filling our ears and bodies, pounding through us and making us move. Then, something made me doubt myself. I remembered that I am not a drummer, and I understood that I was drumming in front of someone from another time who was a master drummer. My rhythm faltered. I ceased drumming and woke up.

uncovered & gang

I was in a large hall with raked seating and a stage. There were various shows being performed and a fluctuating crowd coming and going, watching the shows. I felt that we were at a festival and that outside were tents and other performance venues. For some reason, I was naked apart from a pair of underpants. I was quite self-conscious and tried to find a suitable top or piece of fabric to cover myself. As I walked up and down the aisles, they changed to market aisles like those in an Asian market. There were street vendors selling items such as dried mushrooms and fragrant spices, mixed up with the crowd watching the shows on stage. I found a friend who lay down on me while I slid on my back down the stairs to the bottom of the sloping aisles—I gave her a ride. Finally, I found an apron that I put on. I still felt uncomfortable, but at least I was covered enough to go and find some more suitable clothing. I left the auditorium, choosing to leave by going behind the stage rather than through the central exit. As I was leaving, I saw a rough looking man enter through the main door and I felt that my exit was timely, particularly considering my revealing attire. Outside, I began to walk up the hill. Everything reminded me of the top of the playground behind the toilets of the infants’ school that I attended. Suddenly several more rough men, a gang, appeared from behind the toilet block (which was also the auditorium). There were perhaps ten of them and I tried to look inconspicuous as I was afraid. The first man began to hassle me and knocked me to the ground. He put his boot on my lower back and pressed down. The other men stood around laughing and egging him on. Another man stuck the toe of his boot under my belly so that I could feel it digging in to me as the first man stepped on me with increasing pressure. I woke up at the sound of my own voice, calling out.

out too late

I went to university, intending to be only an hour or so. I parked in the street adjacent to the university grounds in a two hour zone. The uni strongly resembled the high school I attended, rather than the university. Once there, I went to A Block and did whatever it was I needed to do. I met a young woman who I immediately liked; she was a performer and we sat down, wrapped in a conversation about opportunity and the arts. As we talked, she turned into a youngish man, who appeared to have taken a liking to me. I felt uncomfortable, realising how much time had passed and that I needed to get home to my partner. I offered him a lift home and we went to where I thought I had left my car, inside A Block near the maths rooms. There was a line of red cars parked far too close to one another, but none of them were mine. He said that one of them was his car and I wondered why he had accepted my offer of a lift. I remembered that my car was parked on the street and I became even more nervous as I knew that about four hours had passed. I hoped I had not been booked or towed. I left him and went out through the school gates into the night, finding my car where I had left it but with a ticket on the windscreen and something flashing inside the car. I hopped in and realised that the authorities had removed elements of my dashboard—it was hanging by thin wires and small red lights were flashing. I decided to ring B to tell her where I was and ask what to do. I called and my sister answered the phone. She told me how happy she was to be staying with us. I asked to speak to B but my sister told me that she had given up waiting and had gone to work so that she would stop worrying about where I was. I didn’t know what to do.