in the air

I was in the church hall next door to the church I attended as a child. There was a group of people gathered there, awaiting an event. A long rope hung from the high ceiling in the far corner of the hall, in front of the stage. I held onto the rope, walking around in circles, not quite swinging, but almost. I had not the arm nor core strength to lift my body off the ground and so I walked around and around, imagining what I could do. As I walked past the wall, holding onto the rope, I imagined that I could run up it and somersault away, circling on the rope. I imagined that I could perform aerial acrobatics, the way a tissu circus performer would. I realised that if I did this every day, slowly building up my strength and flexibility, plus visualising the movements, that soon I would be able to do it - lift myself off the ground and gracefully, powerfully spin on the rope in the air.
Next, I left the hall, travelling toward home. Instead of walking, I hovered above the ground, using the power of my mind to keep my body a foot or so above the ground and float forward. I moved through the crowd outside, weaving my way over the verandah, down the stairs, and across the church grounds to the road. As I floated across the road, I saw a bus approaching at high speed on my left. I faltered and stumbled on the ground so that the bus had to scream to a halt. It stopped a breath away from my body. The bus driver alighted the bus and yelled at me, telling me that I should use the crossing only a few metres away. I apologised and walked down to the crossing where I crossed back over the road into the church grounds. There, I found my pillow, which was covered in a coral-coloured slip. I held onto the pillow, much like I was leaning on it, and used it to propel me back into the air. I floated back into the crowd gathered outside the church, hovering a foot above everyone, listening to their conversation but concentrating on keeping myself afloat.

python, girl and baby

I was observing a young girl playing near a drain. At first I was not physically there, only spiritually, but when she needed me, I manifested in her space. There had been a great rainfall and the waters were unusually high. The girl wielded a long stick, poking it about in the water and in the drain that ran between the creek and the road. I saw a huge brown python swim into one end of the drain, heading toward the other end where the girl was playing, hitting the water with her stick. Knowing this would agitate the snake and that she was likely to be attacked, I interrupted the scenario and grabbed the snake around the throat just under its head as it appeared from out of the drain. The python was furious. It writhed about, its mouth gaping wide open, desperate to bite me. It was so long that the other end of its body was still in the drain. The young girl seemed oblivious to my presence and continued beating the stick about in the water. I was not sure what to do about the snake. I felt certain that if I let it go, it would attack me or the child. I continued holding onto its throat, squeezing quite hard, puzzling over how to end the experience and keep the girl safe. Suddenly B appeared holding one of her chef's knives. I called to her and she came. I knew I could trust her accuracy to chop of the snake's head even while it was writhing about, without lopping off my fingers. I woke.
Later, I dreamed that I was in the home of my youth, trying on a pair of jeans. I realised that the jeans were maternity pants with a big elasticised section at the front. I went into the parent's bedroom and B was there, folding up clothes. I showed her the jeans and told her that I was thinking of having a baby. She paused and said that it was a good idea, that I would make a good mother. We determined that the baby, who we imagined would be a girl, would be called Micchi.

a need to be free

B and I were travelling. We caught a plane and flew over the ocean and across countries. When we alighted, I was not sure where we were. We caught a bus to our hotel and slept soundly through the night. In the morning, I gazed through the window at the vast field of red, gold and green shrubs, stretched out as far as I could see. B asked me if I knew where we were and I guessed that we might be in Arizona. I was right. We hired a car and travelled around the continent, taking in the sights. In one place, we stopped at a huge building that was still being developed. There was a maze of paths and walls divided by pools of water, around a giant pool of water that adjoined the sea. A crowd had gathered as something was about to happen: an enormous ship sailed with speed into the pool of water and stopped only an inch from the wall that separated the water from the crowd. There, the ship morphed a few times into a sea creature and a whale, before resuming its shape as a ship (shipshape). For some reason, I lay down, fully clothed, in one of the shallow pools of water between the paths and rolled around until I asked B for a hand up.
We then journeyed on, stopping at a man-made beach area surrounded by shops where hundreds of people, both residents and tourists, were shopping and wading. There were about eighty or so women wearing the same bad outfit that they had bought at the shops. I felt embarrassed for them and vowed not to buy off-the-rack clothes that were so obviously cheap and mass-manufactured. I imagined that I could sew all of our clothes and maintain a sense of identity. We wandered on and entered a touristy building built on the side of a canyon. We walked down stairs and down sloped floors, rode down escalators and elevators, until we saw a cafe ahead. B visited the bathroom and I stepped carefully down the now steeply sloping floor toward the cafe where we would find something to eat and drink. I began to take in my surrounds: the floor was carpeted with awful pink carpet and the cafe was decorated in pale blue and pink. The room between the walls became increasingly narrow so that the cafe came to a point. It seemed to be the most southern point in the whole complex, hanging down below the rest of the building, and overhanging the cliff. I began to hyperventilate and started to back away, crawling back up the carpeted floor. B came out of the bathroom and saw what I saw - we had to get out. We felt the weight of the building pressing down on us, felt the precariousness of it, and noticed the ugliness of the place. We left the building as quickly as we could, travelling back up the stairs and escalators, until we were back outside in the open air.

missing out

I was at a lunch function where hundreds of people had gathered. I went to the bathroom and realised that I had not told anyone about my food intolerances and would probably have difficulty eating what was to be served. I went outside and looked for the right person to talk to. A young waiter asked if he could help, but I was determined to speak with a waiter that I had seen earlier - I felt that he would know what to do. I found him and followed him to the service kitchen where a team of chefs was preparing the meal. He went inside and asked the head chef if it was too late to cater for a wheat-free, dairy-free person, and I heard the chef reply that it was. The waiter came out to tell me and I assured him that it was okay, that I should have planned ahead. I thought I could probably go and eat at the local pub, just down the road. I felt that I had missed out and, out of view, shed a few tears.
I was in an airport terminal with my father. We waited in the departure lounge to board the plane for what seemed like a long time. Finally, the plane was due to board, but I had opened my suitcase and was rearranging my luggage. I had a spare corner in my bag and offered it to Dad. He sorted through his things, deciding what he could put in my suitcase to lighten his load. The air stewards announced the final call and we were still occupied with our luggage. I closed my suitcase and hurried to the gate, but my father (who in waking life is always on time) was still in the seating area. I showed my boarding pass and went through, waiting for Dad on the other side, terribly anxious that they would close the flight and not allow him through. I woke.

dark times

A young girl of about seven years old went missing. I was devastated. Before her disappearance, she had attended a place where I was working - perhaps a school of some kind. She was a loving child with a sweet round face and dark hair and eyes. Her family was a wonderful tapestry of colour: some tall and black-skinned, others lighter-skinned - all beautiful. She was collected from the school by someone we assumed to be a member of her family and was not seen again.
Later, a woman arrived and delivered two children to the school - a baby girl and her older brother who was about three. He was a very blonde child with a very dark energy. Even at such a young age, his presence disturbed the other children and he was intent on wreaking havoc. Somehow, he conjured up a spell that set in motion an evil wind. Wild animals rallied and nature roared, warning of a terrible time ahead.
Later still, I was sorting through a suitcase, doing my best to find the most practical things to wear. I knew that outside the door of the room I may encounter violence for a war was at hand. I found sturdy shoes, layers of clothing in dark colours and a bag to carry water. Most of the items in the suitcase I put, regretfully, aside, hoping that I might make it back one day to enjoy them.

exhibition

I was at the state art gallery to view a new exhibition of illustrated books, wandering around the vast space, when I came upon a small exhibition wall dedicated to my book. The book was there, printed and bound, sitting upon a white plinth. Around the book, someone had created a display in hot pink and orange with lots of white space, using various items to make an eclectic installation, such as boxes of tea and fine fabric. I went over to a lounge and sat down, my breath taken away upon finding my book included in the exhibition. I watched as a woman picked up the book, turning the pages carefully. She came over and asked if I had seen the book, pointing to a specific illustration of a young woman's face surrounded by leaves and flowers arranged in an intricate pattern. I was not sure if I should tell her that I had written and illustrated it, but I did and she was appreciative. I then noticed one of my paintings hanging on the wall, again predominantly pink, orange and white, and I realised that the entire section was dedicated to displaying my work. I saw empty walls and wished that I had produced more work to fill them, that I had made more of the space.

sock puppet & baby

Sitting next to my mother on a bench against a wall, I held a baby of indeterminate gender in my arms. The baby was wrapped in a soft blanket - a bundle. I reached into a bag and found a dark blue sock from which I created a sock puppet that played with the baby causing it to laugh and gurgle. The baby was so delighted with the sock puppet that its little arms and legs thrashed about. I bumped my mother a few times, rocked by the happy movement of the baby. The plain blue sock grew button eyes and a red mouth, becoming much more puppet-like. The baby was enthralled.

old home & advice

A girl who went right through infants, primary and high school with me, visited me in Brisbane. I decided to take her somewhere, so we drove through Newstead then along the river via Kingsford Smith Drive. I was driving. At times the car became a huge 4WD and I drove with one wheel on the footpath whilst I sped around other cars that seemed stalled along the way. Eventually we reached an old mansion divided into units, situated where Portside is in waking life. I understood that I used to live there and I wanted to show her my old home. Approaching the house, I could see that the blue-grey paint on the walls was flaking away and that the wood was rotting. We climbed some stairs and walked along a platform through the middle of the building, then out to the rear landing, overlooking the river. We began to climb the stairs to my unit, but the staircase was rickety and far too dangerous. We retreated. I then realised that my unit was no longer there, that the staircase leading to it was a dead end and that the entire upper floor had been removed from the building. Instead, we visited another of the units where a friend of mine was living. She made tea and we sat at the entrance to her unit, talking. She told me that I had the classic symptoms of someone whose diet included foods that were blocking the production of amino acids, in particular, she told me that coffee was affecting me.

reunion

I was at a school reunion, or rather, my entire year at school were gathered, waiting to be taken to the school reunion. It was dusk and everyone was sitting by the side of the road, dressed in the bottle green school uniforms that we wore back when we were at school. I sat apart from the group, doing my best to finish some artwork that I had started. I was happy drawing though aware of being separated from everyone. Periodically, I visited the group, spending a little time with the people with whom I was closest at school. I could see a few others - old friends - sitting by the roadside, and I hoped to catch up with them later. I returned again to my drawing, determined to finish.