gift of spite

B and I were in my bedroom in my family home. My sister was in her room, opposite. A delivery man arrived with two bunches of flowers - one enormous bunch of soft pink roses, perhaps six dozen or more, and one small bunch of hot pink lilies or something similar, about four stems. He gave the roses to my sister and the lilies to me, and left. Though the flowers were extremely beautiful, incredibly so, we received them with trepidation. We knew that they were from someone, a woman, who resented us and that this was her way of communicating her ill will. Attached to my flowers was a small gift-wrapped parcel. I opened it to reveal three pairs of silver earrings, each pair bearing engravings depicting scenes from our last interaction, some years before. Again, though they were exceptionally intricate and precious, I felt very uneasy. My sister's bunch of roses hid a similar parcel containing fine jewellry; this time, a set of silver rings, each banded with diamonds. The beauty of her gift was so overwhelming that I almost forgot who had sent it. I tried on her rings, too large for any but my largest finger, and admired them glinting in the light.

how to float

I was living in the family home where I lived as a teenager. I was a student at a university, of sorts; a school where very alternative disciplines were taught, among them flying, levitation & floating, complex business for arcane arts, total body integration, and much more. I recall very little now about the teachings, but I remember the final week of the third year of study, when I suddenly understood the lessons, the years of learning, and knew which of the disciplines I wished to master. A moment of dawning occurred while I was dressing in my bedroom, so, mid way through putting on some clothes, I raced out of my room, wearing only black swimmers, and ran through the rain to the campus. My body felt fit and powerful and I had no qualms of self-consciousness, though I ran past crowds of people. Inside the building, I quietly went from room to room, careful not to disturb the classes, searching for a particular teacher - the teacher of levitation and floating - to tell her about my breakthrough. She was a beautiful woman with silver-grey hair. She was, at that time, teaching a physical integration class, so I waited impatiently outside the room.

travelling through the pipes

We were standing in the shower of a bathroom, in a downstairs unit of an old apartment block. Somehow, we were to travel up through the pipes to a unit upstairs. We sent some of our belongings up ahead of us and then we entered the pipes, shot upward and emerged in the shower of the designated apartment. This shower was above an old, pink enamel bath, enclosed by a plastic shower curtain. I hopped out of the bath, thrilled that our journey had succeeded, and waded through the items we had sent before us, which had spilled out of the bath and over the tiled bathroom floor. I opened the bathroom door, about to walk into the living room, but I heard the television and realised that someone was home. I quickly closed the door and ushered B back into the shower. I collected as many of our things as I could and jumped into the bath, closing the shower curtain around us. Through the curtain, I saw a young man enter the room, having heard us trying to get away. He glanced at our remaining things lying on the floor, walked straight over to the bath and grabbed the curtain in his fist, about to wrench it open. We held it closed and, although we could see through it and watch his response, he could not see us. I called out: Please don't open the curtain, I'm simply having a bath. He retreated, but said he would be back. B and I tried to send our things back down through the pipes, desperately trying to recall how we had morphed to fit in ourselves. Through the curtain, I could see the man. He had closed the bathroom door behind him and was again approaching. Suddenly, it worked. The pipes received us, opening up like a tunnel or a black hole. We travelled downward and, soon, B and I were back in our own unit, again standing in the shower, surrounded by our things.

birds

I was sitting high up on the front verandah of my first house, the family home where I lived until I was eleven. The cement was old and cool under my legs and the old metal railing enclosed the space. Trees stood tall around the verandah, so that some branches reached over, almost to where I sat. An elegant white, blue and black bird, as big as a hen, flew down onto the verandah and sat quite close to me, close enough that I could reach out and stroke her silky tail feathers. I was amazed at her trust. A pair of crows circled around and perched on a nearby branch, content to observe the scene. Then another pair of birds arrived. The male was magnificent: ruby red, emerald green and sapphire blue designs embroidered his plumage and his chest was broad and strong. His beautiful mate was soft grey and white, a smaller and more delicate bird. She flew onto my right shoulder and nestled her body into the curve of my neck. I placed my hand upon her and felt the light weight of her body. I immediately understood that she wasn't well and that her mate, who watched me intently, was entrusting her to me, that he had brought her here to regain her strength.