boat crime

I was with my family on a boat, moored on a river. We were sitting inside the cabin, talking about people who live on boats and why they do. Suddenly, a speed boat shot past us and motored directly into another boat, which was moored only about five hundred metres from us. We watched as the boat reversed and then, purposefully, drove straight into the boat again. A man in his sixties appeared from within the boat and we saw two men on the offending boat, grab him around the throat and strangle him. They turned around and saw us watching and I pointed at them so that they knew that we had seen. I then jumped out of the boat as they would undoubtedly come to get me, as I was witness to their crime. I called out to my family to escape, and I tried to swim under the boat, to hide there under its frame. The men were too fast and, in no time, their boat swung around our boat and I saw them draw their guns. I drew a small pistol and shot one man, first in one shoulder and then in the other, effectively maiming him. The other man released his gun. We called the police and were safe.

letting go of old behaviour - coffee parable

I was in Brisbane city, visiting the Metro Arts building, where I had worked for many years. I noticed many changes in the surrounding landscape: new hole-in-the-wall coffee outlets, cafes, shops and such. I went for a walk around the block, taking it all in. On the way back, I found a cafe that was owned by people I knew, who also own wellness stores. I thought I would buy a coffee there. I wondered if I should buy a coffee from the coffee house on the corner of Edward and Charlotte Streets, just near the Metro Arts building, as I had heard that their coffee was great, but I decided to support my friends. I waited at the counter for someone to serve me. While I waited, I could see into the theatre adjoining the shop. There were about a thousand wooden ant puppets lined up like and army, a choir, with another marionette dressed in dark red conducting them. In time, the ants waved their legs and clicked them. The scene changed and there were several actors on stage, rehearsing for a musical show. I knew several of the actors and could see at least two of them who also formerly worked at Metro Arts. My attention returned to the coffee house, where I was still waiting for someone to serve me. Finally someone came my way but she went instead to serve someone who had just arrived at the counter. I objected and the woman served me. I felt a little embarrassed about complaining and I made a joke of it. I ordered a soy flat white, which arrived shortly after. I gave her five dollars and, instead of the two dollars change I was owed, she gave me a tiny plastic pearl. I looked at it and saw that it was broken and chipped. I showed the woman and she went to give me another plastic pearl, but I asked for my two dollars change instead. I could plainly see that this pearl was barely worth anything at all and was certainly not a fair exchange. I started walking back down the street with my coffee and decided to take a sip. It was awful; luke warm, weak and overly milky. I realised that I would have to go back and complain again as it was simply not good enough. Now I felt that, at the point when I realised I was waiting a ridiculously long time, before not being served, before being cheated and then served a bad coffee, I should have walked away. I should not have put up with it and I should have simply walked down the road, back to where I was going, and bought a coffee from the place that made great coffees, rather than feel obliged to support people I know.

altered reality

I woke and sat up in bed, swinging my legs over the side. I found my ugg boots and put them on, but noticed that they were much longer, reaching up over my knee. I removed them as they were not my boots and found my own boots, slipping them on. I wondered who had left their ugg boots beside my bed. I walked up the stairs and, once up there, found that our house had changed. It was no longer completely private, but adjoined to a busy hotel foyer with shops, restaurants and a gym. Still in my pyjamas, I walked through the foyer to where I thought my bathroom should be. It had transformed into a bath house and there were women in there, enjoying monsoon showers, steaming hot tubs, saunas and more. I walked though, amazed, and realised that as I walked, I was actually wading through shallow water. I left, eager to preserve my ugg boots, and wondered why I had not before noticed the bath house. I passed an orchestra gathered in the foyer, perhaps about to rehearse for a concert. I felt a little self-conscious about my attire, and headed back indoors. Later, we lounged in the hotel pool, strangers walking around us. Again, I was perplexed as to why we had not noticed the transformation of our house. Later again, we were seated at a table in the hotel restaurant during breakfast service. Plates arrived on our table and, instead of the scrambled eggs we were expecting, each large white plate had only a small mound of dry crumbs carefully arranged upon it. Apparently this was the latest food fashion - dehydrated food. Angry and amazed, I asked the waiter if they ever had repeat business. He looked appalled and gestured to the crowd around us. Obviously, they were very popular and I was out of date.

two steep hills

My sister and I were riding bicycles down a very steep road. My sister seemed to have no difficultly and she streamed ahead of me. Everything about her appeared relaxed, even her clothing. She did not wear a helmet, her hair whipped up in the wind, and she wore a blue patterned summer dress that allowed her ease of movement. I, on the other hand, found the steep hill extremely challenging. I felt restricted on my bike, and I could see potholes and gaping gutters appearing on the road. I steered my bike to avoid some of them, and rode - fingers crossed - over those I could not miss. My bicycle felt out of control, flying down the hill at breakneck speed. Even so, my sister was well ahead of me and stopped, halfway down the hill, to wait. As I reached her, I applied the brakes but, in so doing, I toppled the bike and skidded some way down the hill, gripping the road with my body to stop the motion. I was not hurt, though I was shaken. I warily hopped back on the bike and, together, we rode the rest of the way down the hill.
Later, I was driving through the streets of Newcastle, going home. I felt that I had travelled a long way to be here. I was only a street away and I had to turn right and drive down the steepest hill in the city. The road was long and built on such a slope that it was nearly vertical. With my foot planted on the brake pedal, I drove cautiously down the hill, my muscles clenched. At any moment, I felt the car could roll as the nose was pointing so low, or the brakes could fail and I would go sailing off down the streets and crash into the harbour. I passed other cars parked on the hill and I wondered how the owners could park there and feel relaxed about it. I felt that I would be fearful of both the actual act of parking and that, once parked, my car might slip off the hill. I braked all the way down until, finally, I reached the bottom of the hill. Through the window of the house I could see my family and my extended family - including family members no longer with us - gathered in the lounge room, but the gate in the fence around the garden was locked. I lay down on the ground and began to crawl under the gate, until my mother appeared to open it for me. Her cheeks were unusually flushed, as though wearing rosy blush.

floating and snakes in hole

I was in a lecture that was presented by a space scientist. He was visiting from the most progressive and prestigious space centre in the world, most likely NASA. I sat in the banked seating with B, but, while she was extremely attentive and interested, I fell asleep. I woke toward the end of the lecture, somewhat embarrassed that I had been sleeping, just at the point where the lecturer was asking for volunteers to try out the new 'floating' technology. B raised her hand, along with several other people, and we left our seats and walked down into a laboratory of sorts. There, the lecturer equipped each of the volunteers with a foam covered bar, which they were to hold in front of them in a horizontal position, like gripping a steering wheel rod. The volunteers were then asked to focus their thoughts on floating, 'believe' that they could float, and then sound the word 'hep' every so often, which seemed to boost them up. They each made various progress. Some volunteers slowly lifted a few feet in the air, others barely made it off the ground. I realised that I already knew how to do this, without the bar, and, through a kind of faith and lightness, lifted myself off the ground and floated up toward the ceiling. The lecturer was both impressed and angry, feeling outdone by my performance. I floated and flew around the room. The lecturer wanted to see if I could control the flight, so he yelled out 'Stop!'. I came to a gradual halt, unable to stop on cue, but able to slowly ease to a hovering position and then wheel around. I realised that this was something I could do naturally, but that, with practice, I would be able to master and control.
Later, I had uncovered a hole in the ground and was pulling out some items that I needed. The lecturer appeared and, alarmed, told me to stop, to wait. He said that there may be snakes inside and that, after uncovering such a hole, I should allow time for the snakes to emerge before prodding about, removing my things. If I was too hasty, the snakes may become angered and attack. Sure enough, as we waited, a black snake came out of the hole, as though it had been awoken from a long sleep. It noticed us but, as though it yearned to be outside, it slithered past us, out into the open. I thought that may be all, but a second snake, this one a huge brown, came into view. It initially slid out of the hole and past the lecturer who was waiting with me, but then turned and glided to where I stood. I did not know if it was going to strike or not, so, without waiting, I snatched at it, grabbing the snake around its throat. It was a precarious hold and I could not tell if I had managed to grip it just under its head where I knew it would be safe, so I threw it as far as I could away. It immediately came back, rearing up at me. I grabbed it a second time, this time definitely under its head, but I could feel a second mouth opening in the snake's neck, lined with sharp teeth. The lecturer yelled at me to throw the snake away, and so, again, I threw the snake as far away as I could. It did not come back. We both peered into the hole. I was very tentative now, but knew that I needed to extract what was mine.

unit and art

I was visiting some people in their new unit. At first, I was only observing the scene as though watching a film, but gradually I became a part of it. The unit was on the top floor of a complex of six units; three on the ground floor and three on the top floor. The inhabitants of two of the top-floor units were friends and divided their time between both units; perhaps more of them knew each other well, but I did not see them. It reminded me of Melrose Place, or some such situation. I did not know anyone well at all and they all seemed to be in their mid thirties, but, even though I am older than that in waking life, I felt a year or two younger. My older sister was there and it became evident that they were her friends. One unit was already furnished and lived in, while the one I was visiting was barely furnished. A blonde woman had nearly finished painting the walls of the entire unit a pale mint green. The style of the unit was quite retro and, although it was not to my taste, the colour quite suited it. Another woman arrived home and became outraged as she had not been consulted as to the new colour. She did not like it and felt that it should be a neutral colour such as white. She and the first woman argued for a while and then the first woman left the room. I had not offered an opinion but as soon as the woman left, the second woman asked me my thoughts on the matter. I said that I thought it would be better if the entire unit was painted a chalky white, with colour introduced by soft furnishings. I suggested warm-coloured furnishings to give the unit a lift. The first woman returned and, immediately, I felt reserved again, aware of the effort it would have taken to paint the unit and not wanting too to attract her anger. I walked around the unit and, as I did, time seemed to pass. It was now painted white, highlighted by soft furnishings and paintings in warm, earthy colours. Fabulous art books and objets d'art were scattered about the place. I went into the dining room and, on the table, saw a crystal bowl. Inside the bowl were several small sculptures of dogs. I picked one up to look at it and then replaced it. Instantly, the dogs came to life. Four tiny dogs walked around inside the bowl. I picked one of them up - a tiny, golden curly-haired dog with sad brown eyes. After putting him back into the bowl, they ceased being live. I walked around the unit again and decided to collect art, to visit galleries and invest in beautiful and valuable pieces.

family home

I was about to travel home with a companion. Instead of the coastal route, or even the usual inland route, we had just discovered that we were to drive from Queensland to Newcastle via western New South Wales, skirting the border of South Australia. We called my aunty who gave us directions, and, as she did, a hand-drown map of New South Wales appeared before us. She told us the name of a particular road we were to take; the name of the road, although now unclear, had something to do with the word 'safe'. The road appeared on the map, and I circled it. The map and the added markings were in black ink.
Next, I was in Newcastle, walking the streets with some of the male members of my extended family. We were heading to the beach, but we seemed to travel an indirect route, via the railway lines close to the suburb where I lived as a child. We climbed the stairs and crossed the pedestrian bridge over the railway line. As we passed a public pool, I asked my family to wait outside while I ducked in for a moment. I felt I needed to dive into the pool, to do a few laps. Joy surged through my body; I anticipated the wonderful ease of movement and strength I would feel as I moved through the water. I stripped off and jumped in but, instead of feeling lithe and powerful, I felt greatly encumbered. Each stroke took enormous effort. My arms were like heavy weights dragging me down, with very little strength at all. I knew, however, that, should I complete two laps - to the end and back - I would begin a journey toward wellness, and that tomorrow, the laps would be a little easier, and easier again the day after that. I struggled on, willing my arms to circle through the water with each stroke. On the homeward lap, I chose to backstroke, as this had once been my strongest stroke. I tried to find ways to make my arms and hands glide through the water, but still it was as though I had bricks tied to each hand. Nevertheless, I continued until I reached the side of the pool. I jumped out and dried off, dressing again. I checked my reflection in the mirror and noticed that I was still wearing lipstick and, satisfied, I carefully collected my belongings and a few items of my mother's. I was worried that I had taken far too long, but my father, my uncle and other family members were still waiting outside. We continued on. On the way, we stopped at the family home, which was now occupied by my uncle. I had the sense that this house (that does not in real life exist) had been passed down through the generations of our family. We all sat in the lounge room, enjoying one another's company until a team of workmen entered who had been working outside. The leader told my uncle that the work that needed to be done would cost a great deal more than he had originally quoted, and he mentioned an estimated figure that was huge. My uncle stood up and told them to leave, ushering them out the door, a little red in the face. We were all quiet and we could hear the workmen laughing and visiting the hotel across the road. We were not sure if this meant that we would lose the family home or if we could find a way to raise sufficient money to repair it.

tigers

I passed from outside to inside, crossing the threshold of a communal space, but, just inside the doorway, my path was blocked by about seven tigers on leashes, held back by a man who was letting them, one by one, out the door. I stood with my back to the wall while each of the tigers approached, a breath away from me, sniffed me and passed, without incident, out the door. I concentrated on calming myself, knowing that should I allow fear to take over, I would be in grave danger. The tigers were powerful enough to break free of the man's strong hold, each of the leashes grasped tight in his fist until they were released outside. With each tiger passing, my fear mounted, though I focused on maintaining calm. By the time the last tiger was to due to be released, the man was distracted, talking to another person behind him, and, noticing this, I felt afraid. This tiger looked slightly different to the rest: less beautiful, his chin pronounced, his manner menacing. The tiger sensed my fear and sniffed at me, his breath hot. The man felt a pull on the leash and immediately snapped to attention, tightening the leash, the black leather strap doubled around his fist. He held the tiger, and neither of us were sure if the tiger would have attacked. Instead, the tiger passed through the door and I was free to venture further inside.