missing man

I was lying on a couch watching a television program about a missing person. The footage was old, in black and white. A group of men were going to work, entering a big building like a shed. The man in question was dressed like all the others: overalls (which I assumed to be dark blue) and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up). He had overgrown dark straight hair, although not long, and a big bushy beard so that much of his face was obscured. His eyes were serious, dark and possibly evil - although people often appear sinister in old footage. The man was last into the building and, as he crossed the threshold, he looked behind him, seemingly straight down the lens of the camera. He went inside, the door shut behind him and the commentator said that that was the last time he was seen alive. Suddenly, there was a pile of blankets and sheets on top of me and the man, dead, was lying to my right with his limbs sprawled across me, weighing me down. B stood at my left looking down at me. The man was still in black & white, or rather, shades of grey. The colour was drained out of him - he was lifeless. The blankets and sheets shifted so that they covered my face and I felt pressed down into the couch, buried under the weight of everything on top of me. I tried to scream, but could make no sound. Breathing became more difficult and with each exhale I tried again to scream or to ask B to pull the blankets off so that I could breathe, but I could barely muster a noise. B tried frantically to uncover my face, eventually unearthing me in the pile of blankets. Again the pile shifted, burying me under. Again I desperately tried to scream or tell B that I was suffocating, again making no sound. B scrambled to uncover my face, pulling away the blankets to allow me to breathe. In an instant, B was gone, disappeared from the room, and the second she vanished the man shuddered - a deep shudder, shaking his body. I was not sure if he had been feigning death, or if he was now waking from death, but I knew that either way, he was a terrible man. I was filled with horror and woke.

beetles

For some reason, I put three beetles in my mouth. Immediately I spat them out, realising that they were alive. The beetles landed on the ground at my feet. One beetle, the largest, stretched its wings and its legs, testing its body to check that it was in one piece. Satisfied that it was alright, it approached the second beetle which was also in the process of stretching; they both appeared to be okay. The third beetle had somehow turned inside out. The fleshy, juicy brown interior of its body was showing, like a skinned grape. The biggest beetle walked over to it and tapped it lightly, encouraging it to recover. With sudden effort, the last beetle flipped itself back so that its insides were inside and its wings and legs and shell were back where they should be. Unfortunately, in the process, the beetle's shell, its protective armour, had cracked and some pieces of it were missing. The other two beetles, however, patted the third beetle on the back and they continued on their way.

diving

Diving from a high cement platform, way down into the water below. The pool was inside a vast building and the space was in semi-darkness. It felt more like the bowels of a power station or some such thing than an inside pool. Nonetheless, the water was inviting: cold, crystal clear and iridescent blue. It took quite a bit of courage to actually leap off the platform, it was so far above the surface of the water, but I leapt off and arched my body over into a diving position. On the way down, I had time to realise that I was wearing jeans and a shirt with nothing underneath and wondered if the shirt would become transparent once wet. I plunged into the water, feeling the thrilling rush of cool, and opened my eyes to see a maze of pipes and tunnels further down below. I surfaced and swam around awhile, enjoying the buoyancy of my body. I climbed back out of the pool, up a steep metal ladder that led to the cement platform above. Once there, I could see through an internal window into the next room where a group of people were being guided around the building; students on a tour. I recognised their teacher and felt a little embarrassed as I certainly did not imagine that I looked my best. I caught sight of myself in a mirror and was somewhat dismayed by my wet, pale reflection. I decided to dive straight back into the water. I ran and leapt off the side of the platform, buzzing with the rush of it, and dived down toward the water. Just before entering the water, I realised that my clothes had dried and I didn't want them wet again. My change of mind halted the dive so that instead of shooting down into the blue, I changed directions, skimmed across the top of the water and scooped back up, landing on a lower platform. There I removed all my clothes. I was stunned that I was able to control my body in motion, in flight, and relished in this newfound power. I dived back in and practised somersaulting through the water.

lion

I was standing in the corner of a room. On both sides, the walls comprised glass sliding doors, right up to the corner, so that the room appeared to be both inside and out. Someone said that I shouldn't worry about the lion, that the glass would keep him out. And then he appeared on the other side of the glass. A huge, wild lion, desperate to get in and eat me. I locked one of the glass doors, but the other wouldn't lock and wouldn't close properly, leaving a small gap between the door and the frame. The lion prowled around, pacing backward and forward, occasionally swiping a paw at the glass. I pushed the glass door that wouldn't close as hard as I could, trying to keep the room sealed. The lion could see the gap and wedged a long claw into it, trying to fit the rest of his paw in too so as to widen the gap and open the door. I pushed with all my might, forcing the lion to withdraw his paw. He roared furiously, his long mane bristling around his angry face, still determined to find a way in. I leaned my entire body weight against the door, doing my utmost to keep the lion out, whilst the lion continued probing the gap between the door and the frame, intent on getting in.

camp, suitcase-car & giant sea eagle

I was camping with my brother and his partner in a tent that had two sections - one for me and one for them. We seemed to be on the outskirts of a large camp, at least one hundred or so tents spread across a field. I had packed enough clothing for a week or two. One evening, just on dusk, I left the camp to explore further afield. I took only the clothes I was wearing, a little money and my car, but instead of driving the car, I folded it up into itself so that it formed a compact suitcase. I ran along the road that curved around the bay next to the water. Darkness fell and soon I could see very little. Still I ran, enjoying the evening and the cooler climate - I believe we were in the southern regions of Australia. Suddenly I realised that I had run straight into the water; the road had disappeared and I had plunged, with my suitcase-car, into neck-deep water. I was very concerned for my car and hoped that it was airtight. I waded through the water back to the shore and resumed my walk along the road. Eventually I found another camp where people were settling in for the evening. I also found a tent that I was to share with another person who I barely knew. We settled ourselves inside the narrow tent, much like a child's first play-tent, and realised how uncomfortable we were. I asked him to move his sleeping bag over a little, which he was reluctant to do, but I insisted. The tent walls were terribly slack and dipped down in the middle. I hopped out to tighten them, pulling the pegs out and repositioning them. The pegs were not anchored in the earth, rather they were lodged in the soft wood of the jetty on which we seemed to be perched. Back in the tent, I read a wonderful book with black and white illustrations and photographs, until I fell asleep. The following morning, I continued walking around the bay. Strangely, I saw a giant sea eagle, brown and white, standing on the jetty, interacting with a woman. I was very surprised as I knew that I had dreamed about a huge brown eagle the night before. This eagle was, again, slightly bedraggled and quite old.

classroom, eagle & presentation

I visited a room where a woman - a friend and teacher - presided. The room was ominous and exciting both, for its shadows concealed rows of books, new and old, and a huge brown eagle, watchful as he lurked in the darkness. An impressive and imposing creature, he was nonetheless bedraggled, as though he had been through an ordeal. The feathers around his head and on his chest were thinning in places and a little skewwhiff. Time passed and I left the room, only to return at a later date in the bright daylight. Now it was a classroom, filling with students. The woman entered and I asked her where the eagle was. She replied that she had had to scrape him off the road. I was greatly saddened for him yet not surprised as he appeared to be close to his end, a little relieved that he wasn't hiding somewhere in the room. Another teacher arrived and on her way to her desk she asked me if I was ready for my presentation tomorrow. Apparently the entire class was to be assessed on an end-of-year talk that was built from an essay produced earlier in the year. The talks would be lengthy and so were scheduled over several weeks; I was first. I raced home (to the family home where I lived when I was a teenager) to do my best to prepare. I pored over my diary in case there was some mistake and I was not really first, but I found the reminder confirming that I was, indeed, to present my paper tomorrow morning at nine. I realised that I could not possibly do the research and writing required to build a well-rounded talk in just a few hours. I felt terribly anxious, but decided to resurrect the essay I had written earlier in the year and for which I had received excellent marks. I thought that if I harnessed all of my acting and speaking skills, that I may be able to present the information in a such a new way that the class would not recognise it from before. I studied and practised all night and, in the morning, readied myself to go to school to do my talk. My sister called out from her bedroom to ask me to wait for her so we could travel together. I was really quite panicked, but waited. Time ticked over and nine o'clock drew close, but my sister was not yet ready. I ran downstairs and asked my father to drive us to the school as it was now too late to catch the bus. I ran back upstairs and called to my sister who was still in bed. She had decided to stay at home. I ran back downstairs, papers in hand, and glanced at the time - five to nine. My father walked through the kitchen wearing a hot pink scarf, gliding, on his way to the car. I urgently texted my friend, S, to tell the teacher that I was just leaving home and that I would be there soon. When I looked back up at the clock, it was twenty past nine. So late. I threw down my papers and screamed for a moment, overwhelmed by the whole ordeal, then gathered myself and ran to the car. The dream skipped forward and I arrived in the classroom, one of the first to arrive. We waited for a long time and finally the teachers arrived. They laughed, saying that they had travelled to the Gold Coast in search of a particular book for one of the students after yesterday's class and had somehow missed the last ride back and had to stay the night. They were sorry, but the talks would have to be rescheduled to commence next week. I was both furious and immensely relieved as now I would have a week to prepare.