clumsy and floating

At the back door, trying to get in. Locked. I walk around to the sliding glass door; also locked. Back to the back door. If I simply push it ... Yes. I didn't realise that it was this easy to get in. I'll have to look at fixing that. Walk through the back room, which is filled with all kinds of bric-a-brac - vases, books, bowls, sculptures, kitchen utensils and more. I bump a metal bowl filled with flour. It spills onto the floor and I crouch, scooping the flour back into the bowl. There's blue fluff in it. I pick out the fluff, cleaning the flour so as not to waste it. Walk into the central room of the house; the living room. My mother is there. I knock something else and it falls to the ground. I right it and wonder why I am so clumsy today. In fact, I am feeling strange. I tell my mother and sit down in a wooden chair. I feel light headed, giddy, as though I am no longer contained within my body. I levitate - still sitting on the chair - and float around the room. My mother is surprised and looks at me with wonder. As I float over a high cupboard, I see some plants, which are in pots sitting on the cupboard, on fire. Smoke drifts across the room. The leaves are too close to the ceiling and I rearrange them, extinguishing the flames.

my brother sings

I was in a room with many other people - perhaps a library, perhaps a church. I could see my brother standing with two other men around his age and an older man who was a musician and producer of some note. The older man held some kind of recording device and played a few chords of music, asking the younger men to sing. First one man sang, his voice gentle and high, the melody dancing around the chords, then the second man joined him, his voice similarly sweet and high. Then, as directed, the two men stopped and my brother began to sing, his voice deeper and sadder. From his body, as he sang, came a palpable vibration that resonated throughout the room. People who had been talking ceased talking and sat in silence. A few of us - my mother, sister and father - drew close to my brother, placing our hands gently on his back, feeling the vibration and supporting him. The older man recorded his voice, the vibration, and knew he had found something unique.

moving through air

I was one of four performers playing to a large crowd of people in a vast auditorium. The audience was arranged around the stage, looking down on us - some sitting, some standing. The performers were paired. My partner gripped my hands and spun me around in a circle so that I was flying through the air, almost vertically. I could see the other pair similarly moving, one partner anchored to the ground, spinning the other partner around and around, and, as she flew through the air, she stretched, arched and moved her body, creating a beautiful aerial dance. The other performers were all wearing blue leotards with sequins, appropriately dressed for the show. It seemed I was unprepared and unrehearsed for, as I spun around, I realised that I was wearing a flannelette shirt, grey tracksuit pants and ugg boots and I did not know the choreography. Suddenly, the other pair left the stage, leaving us alone. All eyes were upon us and I needed to do something worthy of watching. I began to move my legs and arch my back, feeling muscles that have long been unused, remembering steps from early dancing days. Though I felt stiff, ill-attired and put on the spot, I danced through the air and, as I spun, my body felt fluid, grew lithe, moved effortlessly.

gatecrashers

We were in the back yard of the home where one of my closest friends lived when she was a child. It was night and everything seemed chaotic, dangerous. Too many people milled around - in the yard, throughout the house - as though the party had been gatecrashed. We were tense, sensing violence, and decided to leave. Five of us piled into my small car, which was parked in the front yard, with B behind the wheel and me in the passenger seat. As we turned to pull out of the driveway, a huge 4WD ute with headlights on high beam pulled in, engine revving, looming over us, forcing us to reverse. Young angry men were in the ute, yelling, and loud, aggressive music roared out the windows, base thudding. The ute spun around, tyres spinning, ripping up grass and spraying mud everywhere, circling around us. B was infuriated and, instead of driving away, turned our car to face them. I screamed at her to go and, as I did, the men in the ute fired guns, shooting at us, at the house, at everything in sight. B swung the car around, the rest of us ducked and covered our heads, and we pulled out of the driveway, speeding up the road through the suburban streets. We were unhurt.

dog crossing road

A small dog, much like the lovely, scruffy dog my grandparents had when I was a child, bolted out my front door, up the driveway and across the road. I was worried; the road is busy and the dog was excitable. She snuffled about in the bush on the other side of the road before returning. And, amazingly, she seemed to possess road sense, even though I knew her to be unfamiliar with the wider world. Before crossing, she quickly scanned the road in both directions for coming cars, and raced back to me, joyful.