obstacles

I was driving a VW Beetle along a remote road that, strangely, was thick with traffic. The long line of cars stuttered along, stopping and starting, held up by something unseen ahead. The car behind me persistently encroached on my space and, pressured, I too repeatedly braked too close to the car in front. Eventually, worried that I would collide, I swerved to the left, joining another lane, which, once there, turned out not to be a lane at all but a dwindling line of cars that had pulled over and was now attempting to rejoin the queue. I too indicated to move right, but the ground between the side of the road and the road opened, birthing a dirt ditch, just wide and deep enough to swallow a small car. The other cars crossed the ditch, merging with traffic, and the long line of cars drove into the distance, leaving me alone with my car pitched against a wall of dirt. Stepping out of the car, I took a look around. The road disappeared and I found myself in a canyon, rock walls stretching high and the ground now dirt and rocks. I could see quartz and other mineral rocks protruding from the cliff walls, buried but for their glittering tips. I skirted the walls, observing the rock formations, until I remembered the car. Returning to it, I could see that it too was now wedged into the dirt, buried up to the roof. I would need help to retrieve it. More alarmingly, however, there were two snakes dozing next to the car, effectively blocking my path. One snake, extremely long and pale green, coiled in a heap, although disquieting, appeared less threatening than the other. The second snake was much shorter, perhaps only a foot or two, with black and brown markings. I knew that this snake was venomous, dangerous. I moved away, pondering what to do, when the dark snake darted at me. Unable to outrun it, I faced it, seizing it just below the head, and threw it as far as I could away from me. It immediately returned, chasing me down, slithering quickly across the dirt, again lashing out at me. Again, I grabbed the snake and hurled it away. This time it struck the canyon wall and transformed upon impact into an animal like a raccoon, and ran into the scrub, hiding. Knowing that, contrary to its disguise, the creature was really a snake, I looked for an escape. A building wall and door appeared, so, rushing past the scrub and the still sleeping green snake, leaving behind my car, I quickly opened the door and closed it behind me, entering a man-made environment - a seemingly safer space. Turning around, I looked through an enormous screened window to the canyon on the other side. Sure enough, I watched as the 'raccoon' morphed back into its true snake form, and slithered out of the scrub. I noticed how the giant screen was built and secured into the window - with neater and better joinery than most, how it protected the inside from the outside so securely, and committed the design to memory.

giant kangaroos

Giant kangaroos. As big as elephants. Dark grey, almost black. Powerful, muscular beasts jumping. Surrounding the house. Threatening.

waiting, anger and communication

I was waiting, sitting reading inane magazines at the hairdressers. My appointment was for four o'clock in the afternoon, and the appointments appeared to be running behind time. I was unperturbed. The hair studio was on the ground floor of a suburban shopping centre and, every so often, people would come in to visit the staff, rather than to have their hair done. Some people were rough, threatening even, and I did my best to remain calm and to placate or humour those that spoke directly to me. Time passed and every so often my hairdresser would tell me that she would not be much longer. A woman who also had been waiting, was finally called upon, but she grew angry and said it was too late; she needed to go home to make dinner for her children. I had not yet looked at the time - clocks were conveniently absent from the walls, but I presumed it to be late in the afternoon. There were no windows so I could not see the sky. I flicked through magazine after magazine, re-reading some. I was growing restless and increasingly irritated by the wait. Some people I knew visited the salon and I asked one of them the time. It was after eight. I was furious. Furious that I had been made to wait over four hours, and even more furious that I had actually waited - no one had forced me to sit there hour upon hour waiting for such a ridiculous amount of time. I searched for my hairdresser to tell her that I was leaving and could not find her. I hurried out the back and saw that the staff were lazing about, gossiping. I told off one young woman, saying I would tell everyone I knew. I immediately regretted saying that as it was not the message I wanted to communicate. I wanted to say I was angry, and that their service was one not worth the wait. My words were caught in my mouth; indeed, my mouth seemed full. I realised I had a giant wad of chewing gum in my mouth and spat it out, but it made little difference. Still my mouth seemed slow and unwieldy. I knew that I was most angry at myself for having wasted precious time through being too compliant, too easygoing, and now I could not seem to communicate my anger.

layers

I was walking, at night, alone. I ventured into a small, dark cabin and, finding nothing there, I opened the door, intending to leave. A tall man stood in the doorway, blocking my path. He said nothing, but closed the door again, locking it. I was trapped inside and wondered what would happen. After a time, he opened the door and ushered me out into a yard where several other people were waiting. I was instructed to climb up a ladder, onto a diving platform above the pool, where I was to undress and then dive into the pool. The people sat around, awaiting my performance. I climbed up and began to undress, but beneath each layer of clothing was another layer. There was nothing provocative about the routine; each item of clothing was sensible rather than attractive. I removed a pair of black socks to find sports socks; under my jacket, I wore several layers; under my pants, were other pairs of pants; and so on. Concerned about appearing naked in front of the audience, I seemed to conjure layer upon layer of clothing.

The following night, a similar dream:

I was in the bathroom of my grandmother's house, undressing so as to get ready to go somewhere. In the bathroom with me was someone I trust implicitly. I removed my shoes, my dress and found I was wearing rather old-fashioned undergarments: a camisole and a half-slip petticoat. I attempted to remove the camisole, but, upon pulling it up toward my head, I found myself stuck. My friend helped me; he did his best to gently tug the top up and over my head, and then helped me with the next item of clothing. Again, there seemed to be several layers of clothing, appearing as I removed each previous item.

witch

Walking through West End in Brisbane, along Hardgrave Road. Past cafes brimming with people, past bars and restaurants full to capacity. I turned up Dornoch Terrace and soon happened upon an old woman, a frightening woman. I could sense her. She deliberately bumped into me and then cursed. I turned, deciding to go back the way I had come, to avoid her. She followed closely, too closely, so that I had to speak with her. I asked her name, but I didn't quite catch her reply. Her face was deeply lined from what appeared to be years of drinking or smoking or drugs, her bottom lip laced with piercings, perhaps twenty or more. Her hair was wild and grey, blowing about her head. I went to walk through a tunnel under the road, hoping to lose her. But she descended with me and I found myself in a dark space with a strange woman who demanded to know my thoughts. 'I wish you well. Whatever you do, I wish you well,' I answered. Once again, I asked her name. This time I heard her. Gwineth. Upon knowing her name, I said goodbye and turned around again, leaving the tunnel and walking back to the business of the cafes and restaurants. I knew I had encountered a witch and, somehow, I felt implicated, having been in her presence, as though the people would assume that I was also a witch and of ill intent.