lost camera & manifesting thoughts

I was sitting at a bus stop, somewhere in another city. I had a few items of luggage with me, including my camera. I placed the camera on the footpath while I rummaged through my bag, head down, looking for my ticket. When I looked up again, my camera was gone. I panicked. I searched around the bus stop and stopped anybody around, asking for my camera. No one had it nor had they seen anyone take it. It had simply disappeared. I was desperate to find my camera as I had photographed a friend's wedding the day before and all of the photos were stored on the memory card in the camera. I was terrified of losing the photographs and ruining the occasion, plus I value the camera greatly.
Later, I was inside a house with the friends whose wedding I had photographed. I was still searching for my camera, checking inside cupboards and suitcases, under lounges and other furniture, anywhere I thought it could be hidden. Finally the bride's mother, another dear friend, told me to remember the last time I was anxious about losing photographs: I greatly feared something going wrong with the camera and then the memory card malfunctioned. Though I was able to retrieve the images, she said that I had manifested the near disaster. This again, she said, was a manifestation of my thoughts. Be careful what you think, she warned me.

pink monkey

I drew a pink monkey called Sphiros, to put up on the door. She - for it was a very pretty monkey with long eyelashes around blue almond eyes - was going to help us become all that we could be. Her image contained her spirit and she would act as our familiar.

camping out

I was with hundreds of other people, camped on a green in the middle of a city. It was late in the afternoon and we were all setting up tents and preparing for an evening out at a special event. People were walking around in their best clothes, having already visited the communal bathrooms, showered and dressed up. I realised that I had a lot to do: I was yet to erect my tent, unpack my belongings, queue to visit the bathroom and get dressed for this special occasion. I gathered my things, a heavy suitcase and my handbag, and went to where I had earlier left my tent and sleeping bag. I found that a couple that I knew well had erected their tent on my site but had left a small patch of green for me to use, only big enough for one person. Instead of unpacking and putting up a tent, I proceeded to build and make up a bed, complete with sheets, pillows, a white quilt and beautiful cushions. Once finished, I wondered if it would rain whilst I was out at the event or during the night, and worried about sleeping under the stars. I noticed that someone had put up a tarpaulin that could be stretched over the entire sleeping area, so unless there was driving rain, I would be dry.

laundry

I was in the home of a close friend's parents, attempting to do a load of washing. Their laundry was a step down from the rest of the house, adjoining the main living space where the parents were sitting, watching television. They appeared to be either drunk or in a bad mood; they were somewhat cranky and careless with their words and actions. I closed the laundry door and loaded the clothes into the front loader washing machine. Instead of a simple door, the washing machine had three separate doors to shut: the first a rubber flap, the second a plastic sliding door, and the third a lockable swing door. I closed all three and started the machine. Regardless of the care taken to close all of the doors, water poured out of the machine and flooded the laundry, ankle-deep in no time at all. I rushed to the the far end of the room and could see two drain pipes built into the cement floor. I stopped the machine and waded through the water, creating a drag toward the drains so the water would empty quickly. I was grateful that the laundry was lower than the rest of the house so that the water would not flood the living room as well. Once the water was gone, I opened the laundry door and called to my friend's mother, asking for her help with the washing machine. She simply grunted and continued to watch the television. My friend came into the room and offered his help. I could not help but notice the remarkable difference in their attitudes: he was open and warm, they were cold and indifferent.

festival

I travelled by train up the coast to attend a festival, much like the Woodford Folk Festival. The train was old with wood panelling and open windows, just like the trains I caught as a child. I stayed in hotel-style accommodation; again, the building was quite old with wood panelling on the walls. After settling in, I wandered around the grounds of the festival. I was early and the crew was still setting up, erecting tents, stalls and stages. I found a place to have a drink and a bite to eat, and then continued walking the festival site. I looked in a few shops - temporary buildings - where treasures and books were for sale. I turned the pages of an antique book, the illustrations changing shape before my eyes. Before long, I found a few friends who were due to perform. I sat on a fold-up chair in front of a low stage and watched as my friends did an acrobatic yoga show. They were extremely impressive and very strong, balancing their bodies, standing atop one another. Suddenly, my chair lifted into the sky. I circled above the festival grounds, flying through the air, until I came back to land close to where I had taken off, and stopped by bumping into a wall. The festival site now teamed with people. I saw various women with whom I have shared house over the years, all attending the festival. I searched the crowds, looking for my friend.

floating

I was on a bus with B. She sat toward the front on the left-hand side, while I wandered up to where the old driver was sitting and watched him drive. I suddenly floated up to the ceiling and I realised I was naked from the waist up. Hovering below the bus roof, I covered myself with my hands and looked down to B who reassured me with a smile. The driver looked up at me and said, "A dwarf naked angel! Just what I've always wanted while I drive." The bus stopped and I floated out the front door, B joining me. She changed into a close friend I had throughout my teenage years who died when he was only seventeen. He wanted to float too so he ran up the hill, holding my hand, while I floated beside him, anchored by his weight.

burning bath

I took a bath in a sunlit room with high windows and a skylight. I was in the bath for about an hour, enjoying the calming water. When I emerged, I walked out of the bathroom wearing a towel. Some people gasped, looking at my naked arms and legs. I looked down and could see that my skin was burnt where it had been immersed in the water. It was quite pink and raw and the top layer of skin was peeling back in sections. I thought it best to ask my brother to photograph the burns so that I could produce evidence should I need to, before calling a doctor. Someone commented that I must be upset, particularly as I was due to be married the next day.

blood red

As I walked, I must have scratched my legs on the scrub, as now I noticed I was bleeding. I looked at my body and found that I was bleeding from cuts on my shins, on my arms and on my face. My nose was bleeding too and I cupped my hands under my chin as the blood ran down my face and pooled in my palms. I walked swiftly toward a sink and a mirror to see what was happening, doing my best not to drip staining red blood over the floor.

I opened a small container, peeling the lid away from the carton. It opened much more quickly than I intended, and red paint shot out, spurting into the air and spraying the far wall. I watched as it splattered a big red abstract painting hung high above the stairs and spotted the white wall below. Immediately, I grabbed a cloth and did my best to clean the wall, wiping the red paint away. I couldn't reach the painting and hoped that the paint would simply blend in.

falling baby

I was standing with B on the side of an extremely steep hill of concrete, which was about a kilometre high. We were two-thirds of the way up the hill, waiting for a bus. A woman stood a few feet away, hanging onto a pram, and her baby played about her feet, just old enough to walk. Suddenly he slipped over, falling on his stomach, and instantly shot off down the hill as though it were made of ice, sliding at breakneck speed toward the bottom. There was nothing to stop his descent but the huge brick building at the bottom. We braced ourselves waiting for the tiny baby to come to an abrupt stop. Tears ran down my cheeks in horrified anticipation. What happened was even worse. Instead of impacting with the brick wall, the baby skated with dizzying speed through a narrow opening and disappeared under the building. Gone. The woman passed out and I, too shocked to bear it, woke up.