the ocean & the whale

I was with my sister, deep down in the dark blue waters of the ocean. We were on a quest to discover where sea water comes from and what makes it salty. We were both wearing black diving suits and were perhaps a kilometre or so below the waters' surface. We found a sign on a wall, much like the information signs at museums, depicting a picture of a ship covered in azure crystals. Beneath the picture was a wordy explanation of the source of the ocean, the words close to us clear and legible, but the words further down the sign, obscured by the dark shadows of the sea. We read the first sentence or two but I was anxious about running out of oxygen and kept looking around me, distracted by how deep we had ventured. My sister was suddenly short of breath so we began swimming fast, up toward the distant surface. Nearing the top, I held my sister's head and pulled her up, urging her to hold on. We surfaced, gulping in great lungfuls of air. We had emerged in a huge indoor pool of dark, deep water that was clearly open to the ocean. We climbed out and began walking out of the concrete room when the sound of great waves crashing caused us to turn. A giant whale - his head above the water, filling the entire space - had swum up into the pool. He seemed to be furious, his eye glinting as he swung his vast body around as though he wanted to attack the handful of people now running, trying to escape. Water spilled over the sides of the pool and flooded the paths. My sister ran but I was swept up by the water and carried around the circumference of the room, propelled around the cement walls. The monster whale, dark grey body lurching, swung around again whilst I washed by him slipping between his powerful body and the wall. Suddenly, he was gone. He disappeared back down under the ocean and everything calmed.

skating & sleeping

Skating up and down the hall. There were items of clothing left on the ground. At first, I picked the shoes and such and moved them out of the way, but further down the hall, I simply ran over them, not so careful as I had been. There were two men sleeping in a room at the end of the hall so I did my best to skate quietly back down the hall towards the exit. Once outside, I lay down on the grass between my partner and my ex-partner and tried to sleep. We murmured to one another, half asleep.

old crap

I went into a public toilet block. All the doors were dark wood and the floor cement. Most of the doors were open but some were closed so, naturally, I headed to one of the toilet cubicles with an open door as no one would be using it. The first toilet was nearly overflowing, almost full of both liquid and solid human waste. I backed out and went into the next cubicle with an open door. It was the same. I tried every cubicle - there were about sixteen in the toilet block - apart from the ones with closed doors, but each was the same. I decided to wait for someone to come out of a cubicle with a shut door, thinking that they must have chosen a clean toilet. A few people left and I checked the cubicles: these were similarly full, nearly to the brim, with human waste but even more foul with fungus and mould growing on the matter left in the bowls.

painting, spider, smoking & babies

I painted a small abstract painting: red base with white, pink and other coloured brush strokes covering the canvas. I sealed the completed work with a gloss resin. I walked away from the 'art area' (a couple of tables outside, on a concrete square, under a shade cloth) over to a table where I was going to pack the work. A well-respected artist, an octogenerian, appeared and wanted to see the work. I was nervous of her critique but showed it to her. To my surprise, she loved it and passed favourable comment. As we were looking at it, it changed: it was now 3D, a collage of cut-out wooden shapes and paint. It was not quite as beautiful as it had been but it was interesting nonetheless. I walked back over to the art area carrying the painting but felt something crawl out from under the frame, across my hand. A large spider ran down my body and onto the ground. It ran around and I did my best to avoid it. I wasn't wearing any shoes and I was worried about stepping on it. We danced around the concrete square for a while before it ran away. It was time to leave. I had to catch a plane as I was due somewhere else. I realised that I had lots of work to do that I had not yet done - I had lost a day of work and would need to do my best to catch up on the trip. I packed my bags and hunted for the right shoes to wear. I chose a pair of high-heeled boots knowing they were not entirely suitable but the best choice from what I had. We travelled to what was supposed to be an airport but was more like an institution of some kind; a cross between a hospital, a shelter, and a shopping centre. I was to stay here a night or so before catching the plane. B and I found my bedroom and made the bed with old but clean pink blankets and floral sheets. She went to do something so I lay down and read for a while and smoked a cigarette. It tasted disgusting and I wondered why I was smoking when I don't smoke. The bedroom filled with smoke and when I finished, I put the butt out in an already full glass ashtray that was lying beside the bed. Immediately, my father and B walked in with a few other people. They commented on the smell of smoke and I told them that would empty the ashtray and never smoke again. I walked through the halls of the institution, toward the kitchen area where I intended to empty and wash the ashtray. I saw my friend, the artist who had liked my work, painting something in the vast room. I turned around and went in a different direction, too embarrassed to see her whilst I held an ashtray and smelt of smoke. I walked back through the halls until I found another kitchen where I emptied the glass bowl and washed it out. It took so long to clean it as other muck kept appearing and blocking the sink. Finally it was clean and I drank water to clean my mouth out. In the room was a woman of about fifty who had obviously had a hard life; she looked about ten or so years older. She was drinking and complained about things. I didn't want to be like her. I walked back along the hall toward my room and on the way I encountered a toddler who was seemingly without a family. I picked him up and took him back to my bedroom where B and my family were waiting to say goodbye to me. I showed them the baby and we stood in the room and talked. I was standing in the doorway with the baby on my hip. He laughed as snow fell down and lightly sprinkled his face until he grew cold. I put him in a pram that appeared in front of me and tucked him under the blankets. Another baby crawled across the floor, also shivering with cold. I picked him up and tucked him under the blankets too. He cuddled up with the first baby and they both slept soundly. I stood over them, the pram between my legs, protecting them from the cold.

me as a man

I was trying on men's clothing - again. I had an altogether different appearance - a stocky, fit man of about thirty-five with tanned skin and strawberry blonde hair. It was as though this body was entirely new to me, that I had simply stepped into it, as I was just the same on the inside. I stood in my new bedroom that came with my new body, and observed myself in the mirrored door of the inbuilt wardrobe. The wardrobe was made of dark wood and had sliding doors, concealing the rack of clothes and drawers inside. The rest of the room was in shades of mid- to dark blue. I sorted through the clothes that I had seemingly inherited from the old owner of my body. They were not really to my liking. I tried on a few basic shirts and pairs of shorts, and even some of the underpants I found in the drawers. They all fitted reasonably well but I decided that I would need to go shopping to buy clothes with more style. I wanted to find underpants with more sex appeal and shirts and pants made from quality fabrics. Though my clothing needed styling, I was quite happy with my body. I admired my powerful muscular structure, flat stomach and strong feet, so different to my body in waking life.

searching & memory

I was with my parents, wandering around a mens clothing store in Newcastle. Though we were supposed to be finding clothes for Dad, I was searching for a particular grey jumper for me. I tried on a number of outfits - men's suits, jumpers, shirts and trousers - and left them hung on a hook in the changing room. I was looking for the ideal jumper. I spied a rack of soft cotton and wool tops that were loose-fitting, wide-necked and made of remarkably fine cloth. This was what I was looking for! I sorted through the tops to find one of my size, but the only one small enough in mens sizes was a dusty pink. I tried it on but it looked strange; the neck hung very low and the sleeves were tight. As I was checking my reflection in the mirror, a toddler, lying under a sheepskin rug in a baby capsule which was placed on a bench, told me that I looked very nice. He had dark red hair and bright blue eyes. I told him that he did too but he said something about having weak lungs. His mother picked up the capsule and walked away.
Next, I was with a friend in a house (that was more like a large box, sitting below street level) in the street where I used to live when I was a teenager. We were waiting for the mobile carpenter to arrive: every weekend a mobile carpenter would drive through the neighborhood in a ute, park at various sites along the way, and see if anyone needed anything fixed or built. We needed to buy some pliers - apparently these were available for sale from the carpenter. Rather than wait any longer, I decided to find the carpenter. I climbed out of the box and ran down the street. I was running so fast that I was almost flying. I caught sight of my reflection in the buffed paintwork of parked cars and saw that I was changing into a man, the faster I went. I slowed my pace so as not to change altogether. When I ran all the way down the street and around the corner, I could see the church where I used to go, old now but teaming with activity. Suddenly I bumped into something: an old woman hiding under a white sheet, standing in the middle of the footpath. I apologised and uncovered her face to see if she was alright. I thought I recognised her from years ago but she was so old now that I couldn't be sure. She asked me how old I was. I paused as I had to think about it to remember and then I answered - forty. She was surprised and so was I, thinking that I must be younger. I continued, running along the road, not so clear about why I was running anymore. Further up the road, I was handed two letters that, upon opening them, were both from the old lady. She had invited me to a dinner and to spend the night at her bed and breakfast. I was both pleased and frightened; something about her age and my hazy memories of her scared me. I had a sense of foreboding.
Next, I was running with another person, through an old, old house that was falling down in places. It was a mansion with many flights of twisting stairs, secret rooms, narrow hallways, tunnels and trap doors, as well as grand open spaces. We were running from the ground level entry, up through the maze, aiming to reach the upper level of the house. At some point, we both took off our shoes and left them lying on the floor. Up and up, we ran past old people going about their business in the house, through rooms and along sloping hallways that I feared may just give way and fall off the house. We ran until we reached a central room on the top floor with red carpet and peeling wallpaper. We stopped running. There was a room, just off this room, where I was scared to venture, but I opened the heavy wooden door and peered inside. It was dark, the windows draped with old dusty curtains. The red carpet continued into the room and there appeared to be an old bed and clothes still in the room. We began our descent, taking a shorter route back down to the ground level. There we found another couple of rooms that were now deserted. I recalled that this used to be the place that we held theatrical shows and concerts and created many wonderful works of art. It was now haunted.
The girl with me had found some other friends and was smoking, getting stoned. I felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave. I started to sing a song that I remembered, the words coming back to me as I went. I walked outside so as I could sing more freely and with volume, away from the smoke and the company. I loved the song and the feeling of singing. Suddenly I knew that I had to leave, but first I had to retrieve my shoes that I had left somewhere in the house. I couldn't remember where and wasn't sure of my way around the house without my friend. I asked her to show me the way and she agreed, but the very first hallway that we started walking along, shrank rapidly until it was a very narrow tunnel. We burrowed our way along, climbing the icy blue walls, the walls squeezing us in, until I couldn't stand it. I wriggled back out into the open and cried. I had to get my shoes to leave but I couldn't go forward, through the maze of memory.

brother

We were at a relaxed venue, listening to music. I sat on the low stage, facing away from the audience, in the middle of a circle of young men who had joined together to perform a song. Each of the men had a quality that reminded me of the classical troubadour. When they had finished, I sat in a particular way with my legs to one side and my back stretched so that it was very long. I realised that I was not me but a version of my brother. I was wearing a loose grey jumper that hung about my frame in a becoming way and I enjoyed the sensation of my changed body. I turned and saw two things: a young woman in the audience admiring me (as my brother) and my actual brother. He came over to speak to me and I could sense that he was deeply emotional. He leaned his forehead against mine and we talked with one another in that position for some time. Though we were in such close proximity, I could clearly see the details of his face. I could see his dark brown eyes shining, the fleck of light on each of the minute hairs covering his skin causing him to sparkle, the curl of his hair and the intricate shape of his face. I could not only see him with great clarity, but feel him, the strength and fragility of him. He told me that he was on a sea, riding waves of deep sadness and joy. I suggested that he stay with me and my sister, that we look after each other.

song of frida

I was visiting a friend's house while he wasn't home, early in the evening. The television was on and a recently released music video clip was screening. I realised that it was my friend's wife, singing a fantastic song. She was dressed to resemble Frida Kahlo: her hair was parted in the middle and drawn up on either side of her head, curled into platted coils; she wore a dark green man's suit; and she had a monobrow drawn skillfully above her eyes. She looked great - both cheeky and dramatic. She sang in front of a painted mural backdrop featuring large bright red flowers and oversized green leaves, much like some of the flora featured in Kahlo's works. I was amazed as I had no idea that she was such an original and gifted performer. After the song, the program went on to show excerpts of some of her live concerts. It seemed that it was a career that she stumbled upon after throwing caution to the wind and doing exactly what she wanted. I went to find my friend; he was finishing up at work, turning off the lights and preparing to leave. We went back to his house and he showed me a cd of her songs. The cd was called "mandalana' or 'amandala' or something like that. I was very impressed.

snakes

I was running down the street I know best in the world, the street where I lived with my family - in two different houses - and the street where my grandparents lived. It had been raining and the ground was damp underfoot. I saw something long and thin slither across the grass - a snake. I was not frightened but did my best to avoid the snake and, similarly, the snake kept a guarded distance from me. I saw another snake disappear into the overgrown rose bushes, and a third and a fourth. There were snakes everywhere of different shades of brown, green, orange and black, and of varying sizes. Still, I was not frightened nor did the snakes seemed perturbed by my presence. I ran down the hill, observing the snakes, until, passing my original home, I lifted off the ground and travelled the rest of the way down the hill, flying through the air. From above the trees, I could see snakes coiled around the branches and gliding across the grass below. Snakes everywhere, and yet, I was not afraid.

audition

I lived next door to a man who I sighted rarely and knew little of - he seemed to be extremely busy, coming home irregularly and, then, late at night and leaving early in the morning. At some point, our paths crossed and he revealed that he was a casting agent. While we spoke, newspaper articles flashed before me (a private tutorial that only I could see) telling of how this man was respected in the business and further afield, and was treated like royalty. Indeed, the rulers of our country referred to him as 'Minister' and it was suggested that he may later pursue a career in politics. He was of dark complexion, wore suits and glasses and, as it stated in the news, was 53; he looked somewhat younger. I immediately trusted and liked him. He gave me a card and recommended that I audition for a part he had in mind.
Next, I was in a film studio rehearsal room where various people were auditioning for roles in an Australian film that was to be made. I guessed that we were going for minor roles as the major roles would not have been cast in a cattle-call such as this. Around the room were different people in elaborate costumes. Elderly men in old-style army costumes, complete with eucalypt leaves threaded through their helmets, sat on a bench to one side of the room. Young women in gaudy clothing, possibly auditioning as sex workers, sat on the floor against a wall. I was dressed in a nun's habit: a long black tunic and a dark veil. I noticed that other women dressed as nuns had added more detail than I had: hand-woven sandles, crucifixes and so on. I was bare foot, sitting on the ground with my bag and a vegetable peeler shaped like a switchblade. My hood and veil repeatedly slipped back so that my hair ruffled and I had to keep adjusting my costume. I could see other actors with immaculate hair under their veils, held in place with simple hair clips, suitable for the role. My veil also covered my mouth and nose, exposing only my eyes. I wondered why when other nun's costumes were open-faced. We were to wait until our role was auditioned and no one could estimate when that might be. I wondered if it was actually worth my while as I had embarked on a different career and could be at home working. I was also somewhat shocked by the daring of some of the auditions as some people went to great lengths to secure the role. A large screen was set up on the feature wall so that we could all see the actor's face and person in detail, just as we would if the film was playing in the cinema. While I waited, a group of people arrived, turning into the wide hall opposite where I was sitting on the floor. I could see the man in the group and I hid even further inside my habit and veil, not wanting him to see me - here and dressed as I was. He passed by without noticing me.
Part of the story of the film was that a man loved a woman but she did not, or could not, return his love. Set inside an airy church with wide wooden pews, he gave her a blue dress and told her that one day, when she loved him, she would wear the blue dress and he would know. He would return from wherever he was in the world to be by her side. Suddenly, I knew that I would play the role of the woman.

great change

I was standing with other people on a narrow path set high on a cliff face. We were looking out over the land below as the day turned to night. To our left, the setting sun caused a myriad of colours to flood the sky, reminiscent of one of my abstract paintings: red, blue, golds, greens and oranges bled into one another. I took my camera out of its case and, just at the moment that I took a photograph, the sky, directly where the sun was sinking below the horizon, erupted. A charcoal cloud billowed up and out, poisoning the brilliant colours and spreading over the entire landscape. Simultaneously, a giant wave of grey sea water emerged from the point at which the sun disappeared and rushed toward us, quickly traversing the miles, growing rapidly in size and terror. Everyone began to run, back along the path to our right. It had happened so fast and without warning that I still had my camera out of the bag. I ran a few steps but needed to secure the camera so that I could move freely. I stopped and huddled into the rock-face to avoid being stampeded, placing my camera back into its protective case. Behind me, the water had spread across the land and was rising.

died & reborn - in Tasmania!

B, a few other people and I were going somewhere. We travelled the busy streets of a city until we arrived at the entrance of a lofty sky-scraper. We ventured inside and walked through the corridors until we came to twin lifts. We pressed the button to call a lift and two lifts reached ground level at the same time. For some reason, B and someone else chose to ride one lift, whilst I stepped into the other with two men. The lifts both launched upward, scaling the floors of the building, up and up, with great speed. At some point, the men and I realised that our lift was racing too fast and had passed the level where we wanted to alight. The lift seemed to shoot out of the building into the sky, lose its momentum, then plummet back down through the building, free-falling down the shaft, out of control. I had had other falling lift experiences (in dreams) but I knew that this was different. I knew that the weight of the lift, falling from such an immense height, was far too much and that we would most likely die on impact. Rather than panicking, I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes and thanked God for my life on Earth. In the minute amount of time that it took to crash, I remembered as much as I could of my family and close ones, and recalled the beauty of nature. We hit the ground and everything went black. When I opened my eyes, I was in a different place with many other people, most of whom seemed to be of a similar age. I looked around and saw my friend, A, who had recently died. I was overjoyed to see her as she was to see me. She took my hand, leading me to the showers, where I stood under the water, fully clothed, and washed off my make-up and traces of my last life. We went outside and stretched out before me was the most magnificent landscape: tall eucalypts with grey green bark, intricately shaped shrubs bearing golden flowers, and a placid sea of blue water. I asked her where we were, now that we were dead, and she told me that we were in Tasmania. I was very surprised, having expected to arrive somewhere between worlds or at least more ethereal, but it seemed that I had died and been reborn in Tasmania. My mobile phone rang and I raced to open my bag in time to answer it before it went through to the message service, thinking it might be B or one of my family. I answered the phone but a mocking recorded voice spoke to me, suggesting that now I was dead, I might give my permission for everything I owned to be used as part payment for outstanding debt. I disconnected the call and cried. A asked me what was wrong and I told her that I felt so sorry for my family and for B who would be very grieved by my death. I mourned for them. She comforted me, knowing that this was valid, but then pointed the way forward, into the Tasmanian landscape. I then felt a sense of peace and optimism.

family & fish

Back in Newcastle again, staying with my family in the house we built and lived in when I was young. The extended family was having a discussion about where to live: we were all going to move to the country and live in the same region. There was mention of various sites from northern New South Wales, down as far as five hours south of Sydney. I felt simultaneously excited and panicked as I wondered how it would work and whether I could transport my life and relationships to live with my clan.
Next, I recall running in to see a wise woman about a problem. She looked into my eyes and told me that I had fish in my eyes and said that something occurred in 1924 or thereabouts that was affecting my life now. I didn't understand.

my work & water

I was busy with my work when a client called to ask for an urgent job. I didn't want to put aside my work as it was important to me but I agreed to do the client's work first. I prepared a design for some white folders and called again to find out the wording that was required to be printed on the folders. The client was out of the office on a 'wine date', according to the receptionist. I went to where I knew the client would be to discuss the wording as they had told me that the job was high-priority, but she was sitting with a large group of people, all drunk. I showed her the design and did my best to find out what she wanted on the folders but she was incoherent and careless. The receptionist showed up and she suggested some wording that could use. I felt disappointed and angry as the job was obviously of little importance and of less urgency than the client had earlier stated, otherwise she would have prioritised it as I had done, putting off my own work in the process.
Next, B and I drove around a strange car park and parked the car in a marked space bordered by water. We walked down to the swimming pool, looking forward to a peaceful and private swim. Approaching the pool via a different path, I could see a woman I know and her two friends, all with shades of red hair. A soundtrack seemed to accompany them - a well-known piece of classical music that has dark and imposing undertones. I hurried, urging B to hurry too, eager to enter the water before the other people arrived so as to create an ownership of the space. We waded into the beautiful blue and green water, moments before they walked into the space and also entered the water. The music that came with them increased in volume, filling my ears and causing my heart to pound. I started to talk about the music but it seemed that no-one else could hear it, only me. Some of the water drained out of the pool - there were too many people in the water - and we could see patches of sand here and there. I called to B, who was now walking around the outskirts of the pool, and asked if we could go to the ocean and find another swimming place there. She agreed so we left the others to the pool. As we walked away, I again noticed the red hair of all three people, swimming in the water. B and I returned to the car and navigated our way back onto the marked car space so that we could drive to the sea.

ghosts

I was with two friends, climbing the stairs to an old apartment above shops, somewhere in a city. The building was aged but, inside, the apartment was furnished with great care. I understood that it belonged to a friend of mine who has a particular gift of finding items of great aesthetic value in vintage stores. She had decorated the apartment with wonderful armchairs and tables and had covered the furniture with elaborately embroidered cloth, mostly in shades of black with vibrant jewel-coloured patterns. We sat at the table and I admired the heavy tablecloth, feeling the quality of the fabric between my fingers. Though there was so much to be admired in the apartment, we could sense a great heaviness about the place. We discussed it, acknowledging the weighty, oppressive feel of the place. Suddenly five ghosts, all men, walked through the wall and into the room. It became apparent that my two friends couldn't see them. The ghosts were of various ages and were transparent grey in colour; otherwise they looked like ordinary men. They said nothing but were evidently melancholy. It seemed that they were stuck here and I wondered if they were the previous occupants of the building or perhaps the original owners of the apartment's furnishings.

crocodile

I was standing with a group of about seven people, outside in a grassy space. We were conversing about something that I cannot now recall. A small brown crocodile, about a foot or so long, penetrated the group, walking between us and snapping at our ankles. Each person pushed it away, careful to avoid being bitten as, although it was so tiny, it had a vicious bite. It repeatedly attempted to bite each one of us and each time it tried, one of us pushed it away. We tried to carry on the conversation but we were distracted by the crocodile and its sharp teeth. It changed colour, turning grass green, and grew a little so that it was now about a metre long and more solid. Still, it tried to bite us, lunging with increasing strength and snapping its now powerful jaws, and still, we pushed it away, doing our best to carry on the conversation.

preparing to perform & a tip for recognition

I walked into a large field. Unusual plants, much like the succulents that grow wild across the sand on the shore of many beaches, covered the ground. I stopped to put on my shoes and then walked across the field. I discovered that a huge event was held here regularly: a concert of sorts. There was a vast auditorium in the middle of the field and people were lining up to get in. I went into the low-set buildings opposite the auditorium where the changing rooms were, to get ready for my performance. Inside the changing room was a clothes rack housing a wardrobe of fabulous outfits. I selected a long purple skirt and an elaborate white blouse, wrapped my head in a purple scarf and applied deep scarlet lipstick to my lips. George Clooney and Brad Pitt walked in, also preparing for their performance. George selected an amazing pink suit and Brad chose an equally eye-catching pale blue suit and they changed into them. George asked me my name and, being a little shy, I spoke quickly. "Chris," I said. He asked if I would mind if he gave me a tip and, of course, I listened. He said that when someone asked me my name, I should take my time to respond, to deliver the words clearly. He suggested I say, "My name is Christine. You can call me Chris." That way people would remember my name and respect me, just as I have respected myself. I applied pink mascara to my eyelashes and then I was ready. We left the changing rooms and crossed the grounds to the door of the auditorium. The concert was underway and there were many people seated inside although there were plenty of empty seats. I went inside and sat down the front, watching the performances. I recognised the woman I sat next to as a girl I knew when I was young. I said hello and she could see that she knew me from somewhere but couldn't recall how. I told her I was Chris Sharp - again I said my name quickly and unclearly. She looked vague and said she couldn't place me. I watched the show, wondering exactly what I was going to do when it came my turn to perform; would I sing, or speak or something else.