money in the wind

I was sitting inside at a vast open window, looking out at people passing by while I sharpened coloured pencils. There must have been hundreds of pencils and I had to sharpen them all before I could draw. The bucket of pencil shavings was half-full and my sharpener was dull. For some reason, my wallet was sitting on the window sill and every so often money would flutter out and blow into the street - ten dollars, twenty dollars, fifty dollars. Each time, people made an effort to help catch my money and return it, but a few times the money was lost. Once, a dog snatched my money out of the air and ran away with it in his teeth.

swept away

I lived in a home with a small back deck, backing onto a river. The deck had no railing and it was perched only a few feet above the water. A friend visited us and she was wearing amazing clothing: a black and red pin-striped three-piece suit, long black high-heeled boots under her pants, and a black suede coat with an intricate cut-out pattern. For some reason, she changed her outfit and left her incredible clothes on the deck. The next day, I was on the phone with another friend, pacing about the house. As I walked past the glass doors leading to the deck, I realised that during the night the tide had risen and water had washed over the deck, sweeping away the clothing. I hung up the phone and, wearing all my clothes, dived off the back deck into the water. Under the water, I could see her pants here, a boot there, but also some eels - fat eels with pronounced eyes and each with pinkish frill along its body. At first I was afraid but soon I realised they were simply curious; they meant no harm. I even saw one swim through the glass doors into the living room and out again. I only vaguely thought about whether this meant there was water in the house. Surfacing to deposit clothing on the back deck or to breathe, I slowly retrieved all of my friend's beautiful clothing. The next day my friend returned. We walked onto the back deck and, again, no clothes. The tide had risen a second time and swept her clothes into the river. Fully clothed, I dived into the river, this time with my friend. Peering around under the water, we could see her clothing here and there; most pieces had travelled further down the river this time. I felt something bite my arm and, looking down, I saw a worm burrowing into my skin. I grabbed its tail between my fingers and pulled. Its body broke in two, but both pieces wriggled away through the water. It looked remarkably like the eel with a pink frill around its body, but with no eyes to speak of. Another worm bit then burrowed into my skin. For a moment I was horrified, but it reappeared in one piece, seemingly no harm done. Again, we retrieved my friend's clothing. I noticed the feel of the quality fabric and the cut of the garments as I fished them out of the water. Suddenly, there was no water; just a dry river bed. We walked along, away from the house, following the trail of clothing. I looked back to the house and could see a wall of water rushing toward us. 'Jump up', I called to my friend, and we jumped and found ourselves swept along by the water, but safe on its surface. Later, back on the deck, I worried about the remaining items of clothing we'd not been able to retrieve. 'Don't worry about it', said my friend. 'It's only clothes.'

a new life

I was living on Earth in 4000 AD. The planet had undergone a monumental shift - a death and rebirth - which had occurred sometime in the 21st Century, not too far in the future. I was the same age I am now. Earth seemed, somehow, smaller and more industrial, even fabricated, in part. An apocalypse had occurred. I heard stories of how, slowly, survivors found one another, crawled out from where they had been near-buried, and started again, doing their best to reestablish humanity's earlier learnings. They tried to remember the truths, the lessons, but it seemed everything was slightly askew. Their ways of doing things resembled life before; but, with the same foundations, they had created new pathways, new patterns, new cultures. New ways to interact with one another. I had a friend - a woman older than me and much taller and finer, who seemed to serve as a guide. It was evident I was new here; woken, perhaps, from an imposed sleep. Had I too survived and been so severely damaged I was in an induced state of slumber until that time it was safe to be alive? I was out of place. My way of being in the world was not the new way of being. Everyone seemed to have an innate knowledge of what to do, the order of things. My friend and I were talking about family. I told her I had had a beautiful family - a mother, a father, a sister and brother, and extended family, all so dear to me. I ached with longing to see them again and regretted time spent apart. The woman asked if I had had children and if I would like to begin my family anew. I doubted, at my age, it was likely, but she assured me it was indeed probable, and encouraged me to waste no time - to fall pregnant that very day. I agreed and we went to a particular shop that sold herbs, spices and other rarities, stocked in vast jars on the shelves. Rather than talking to the shop owner directly, the woman pointed to various jars, commenting on the contents. It was a code, a message to the shopkeeper, telling her why we were there. The shop owner understood and looked at me intently, then ushered me inside and made me comfortable at the rear of the shop. She fetched tea then opened a store cupboard; an unusual man appeared and approached me. He was, perhaps, of Arabic descent - a handsome man with black hair, dark eyes and caramel skin - but the most unusual thing about him was the blue aura around him, which resembled the mist that might surround a genie. Rather than being sexual, I understood him to be a eunuch with special esoteric powers, who, somehow, was about to impregnate me. But, first, he read me - my mind, my body - he could read the person I was. I was not afraid; rather, I knew this was the way to begin again.

protected

Lying on the floor in a room where small children played happily and my dog nosed at a ball. A mammoth green and black python slid into the room. The children were unafraid and one child - sitting just next to me - reached out and patted the snake on the tip of its tail. Agitated, it lashed around and appeared to come straight at me. I closed my eyes, certain I would feel its mouth close around my hand or face. When I opened my eyes, my dog gazed down at me anxiously, lovingly, wagging her tail. The children told me she had launched at the snake and finished it before it could hurt me.

rabbit and snake

We were staying in her parents' home while they were away. Everything was tidy and the house had obviously been cleaned, but now there were droppings; little brown mounds spread across the floor and even up the walls. A plastic bag under a table moved and I picked it up, my hand firm around the opening. Inside, a small grey rabbit with a white chest and tail writhed - the culprit. I went to walk to the door to release the rabbit outside, but my friend stopped me, telling me the rabbit was a pest. I didn't want to hurt the rabbit; it was so sweet. Or was it? Suddenly, the rabbit changed. Its face distorted, its eyes bulged and its teeth became big, sharp rectangles that nipped at my hand through the bag. I dropped the bag and the rabbit disappeared.
Next, in the same room, a group of people gathered. They sat on available furniture and, where chairs, lounges or beds weren't available, they sat on the floor or on the shelves. A giant black and lemon python slithered into the room and coiled its body against a wall of the room. I went to the corner furthest from the snake and sat under a shelf on the floor. The python, seemingly serene, followed me and relocated its heavy body to the shelf above my head. No one else seemed bothered by its presence, but I felt unsafe, sitting directly under it. I slowly, and with deliberate calm, gathered my bag and went to leave. Again the python followed me. It slithered alongside me and raised its head up to sniff my bag. I could see - feel - soft hair growing out of its nose, brushing my hand. I awoke and my dog, Billie Bear, was softly sniffing my hand. Relief!

outgrown her life

A friend, who lives remotely, holidayed in the city. Upon returning home, she felt she'd outgrown her life. I knew this not by speaking with her or hearing of her predicament; rather, I saw images of her caged inside her home. I could see her looking out her window and she was far too big for the room. She had to duck her head to fit inside and her arms and legs pressed against the walls. She no longer belonged, nor could she fit back into her existence.

crash

My friend and I were riding in a helicopter, piloted by another close friend. I was impressed by her bravery as I had not known she possessed a licence to fly. She looked the part, wearing a black outfit and cap, and she was clearly confident in her ability. We flew through the city, dipping dangerously low, tracing the streets between the buildings. We were so close to the ground I could see the hair of the walkers below blowing about in the wind created by the propellors. I noticed, although the helicopter moved almost erratically, I did not experience motion sickness. Suddenly my friend and I were still flying through the air, but the helicopter had crashed behind us. We looked back to see it crumpled on the ground and in flames. People were running and screaming, but we were calm. We realised we must be dead, our physical bodies burning in the wreckage on the road. Although we looked the same to one another, we were ghosts of our Earthly selves. My friend was outraged. 'I don't have time for this,' she exclaimed. 'I've not made any plans for my death and no one will know what to do if I'm gone.'

identity

I was with my friend on our way to visit my family, when we decided to drop in on some old friends. He had maintained close friendships with them, but I had not seen them for some time. We entered the home of a couple we had known for many years, the morning after a big party we had not attended. People were waking up and suffering a little from the night before. I was glad to be feeling bright and alert, having been awake for hours. Regardless that I had not been close with the circle of friends for years, they were mostly welcoming, if a little cool, and tried to involve me in a project they were working on, as though I'd never left. I ventured into the kitchen and saw more faces I'd not seen for a while, and, although pleased to see them, I felt no desire to resume my place among them. I was keen to visit my family with my friend, but he was now involved in the party of people, unaware of how I felt. I saw him standing with friends by a long table, eating food and laughing, and I had no wish to hurry him. I hoped he'd remember our plan and independently decide to leave with me. I waited for a while, anxious to see my parents, who lived just around the corner.
The scene changed and my friend showed me an illustration on the cover of a book. It looked familiar and he explained he'd sourced it at a famous news stand in New York. Somehow, without boarding a plane, we rose into the sky to a great height, shunted at lightning speed through the air, and descended into a street in New York, just near the said news stand. I sat at an outdoor table, taking a break, while my friend spoke with the man behind the counter. The man brought out a folder containing numerous illustrations and documents, flicking through it. Again, I recognised the work and suddenly realised it was mine. It was a folder containing my old drawings, some I'd forgotten I'd done, as well as documents such as school reports, references, CVs, university transcripts and so on. It was my personal identification folder. I told the man it was mine and, upon seeing his expression, said I could prove it by matching my signature with that on several of the documents. I opened my wallet to find a card bearing my signature, but the cards all seemed to be old, from various phases of my life, and my signature looked younger, typical of the time in which the cards were signed. There were cards from high school and from places I'd worked throughout my twenties and thirties. I pulled out my driver's license, but could see no signature on it. I could find nothing right. I took a pen and signed my name on a piece of paper, several times, hoping I could convince him of my identity and reclaim my folder. I wondered, however, if I were to lose the folder, who I could be without it.

leap of faith

I had been telling my mother about a shop that stocked all kinds of wonderful things when we happened upon it, after hours. We peered through the glass doors and, in doing so, found the shop was unlocked and empty. The stock and shelves had been removed and all that remained were bare white-brick walls. It was an extraordinary space - very large with an extremely high ceiling and stairs on either side of the front wall, leading up to a balcony that crossed the back wall. Above the balcony was a vast window, which let in a beautiful blue light. It was raining outside and somehow - a play of light, perhaps - the rain appeared to shower down through the window into the room, although the room was perfectly dry. My mother and sister ran inside and up the stairs on the right side of the space, more or less dancing and running across the balcony and down the set of stairs on the other side. They seemed to know the space, and to know exactly what to do. They were carefree and exuberant. I followed them at a much slower pace, a little bewildered, climbing the stairs and walking across the balcony, wanting to share their sense of freedom and growing accustomed to the seemingly enchanted space. In the middle of the balcony crossing, I stopped and sat down, surveying the giant room. I imagined it being ideal for theatre with its generous size and the unusual, almost theatre-in-the-round design. I tested the acoustics, singing lines of songs. The notes resounded around the room. While I was singing, more people entered the space. Some ran up the stairs, along the balcony and down the other stairs. Others leapt off the balcony, hurtling downward until an unseen force  - a gust of gravity - slowed their descent, so they landed softly on the cement floor. Some people, after falling down, instead of landing, rose back up through the air to the level of the balcony before plunging down once again. This was a game of trust. A lighting box appeared in the rear left-hand corner of the room, a little lower than the balcony, and I could see a few people through the glass, operating lights inside. My dear friend A was there. A small stage appeared against the front-right corner. Two people I recognised rose in the air before me - I remembered them from long ago and instantly felt unsure, for they were gossipers and unkind to many. They plummeted back down and, imagining their ending, I said, 'Splat'. Immediately, I withdrew my thought, just in case they did, in fact, die upon landing. Although I was wary of them, I didn't want anything horrible to happen in this room. I looked instead at my friend through the glass of the lighting box, knowing that she would always be a true friend. I noticed a group of people were now sitting beside me on the balcony, their legs similarly dangling over the edge. The young man beside me took my hand and, together, we jumped. We whipped through the air, hearts pounding, until only a few feet before the bottom, it was as though the very air gathered and held us up, cushioning our landing. We lay on the floor, arms and legs wrapped around each other, exhilarated and breathless. My heart was racing in a way it had not for many years. I felt younger, as though a something was remembered, as though I had come through a lackluster wilderness and was now reborn into light. We lay there, unconcerned about our bodies touching, until we caught our breath. We had no attachment to one another beyond sharing the jump and, after recovering, we parted ways. Now, the room filled with people, ready for a performance. Vast cement steps appeared, skirting three sides of the room, so that the audience could sit on the steps and the balcony to view the small stage at the front. I took a seat, transfixed by the performance that had begun. A woman I know delivered a monologue, captivating us with her outstanding performance. A short break before a man took the stage and told us a wild tale, improvising parts, appearing completely comfortable and confident. It seemed the room, the theatre, somehow brought out the best in everyone. It supported those who dared. I looked around at the audience and could see two close friends sitting in a row perpendicular to mine. One of them saw me and waved, smiling warmly. She said something quietly to me and somehow I heard her clearly, as though she whispered in my ear, even though she was at least twenty feet away. I was delighted to see them both, but particularly buoyed by my friend's words and presence; I felt she was my guardian angel and I knew she wished me well and loved me. I also noticed another friend - a mentor - sitting further along the same row. After the man's performance, my mentor walked over to me and gave me a sheet of paper, saying she had had an idea: I was to perform next, singing three songs. I was shocked and, in that state, could not make head or tail of the words on the page, but realised that it was the programme - I was listed to sing next. Although completely unprepared, I was willing to sing. I tried to think of three complete songs I knew well enough to perform, but could not. I decided to wing it. I dared.

dolphins and the sea

My friend was telling me about an island, only 27 kilometres wide, long or square - I cannot quite recall. The island boasted a luxury resort where the very wealthy went to unwind. As she told me about it, I saw it appear, as though on a cinema screen. I could see an imposing building, probably about forty storeys high and very wide, made of grey stone or cement, and convex in shape, perched atop a tropical island. The image became increasingly clear and large, so that we eventually stepped into the picture - we were on the island, inside the resort, in a viewing room under the building. From there, we gazed out through vast glass windows to the surrounding sea, which was a strikingly beautiful blue, more lapis lazuli than sky. We could see a man swimming alone in the waves, and I wondered at his courage. Without us noticing, the viewing room had become part of the ocean, still enclosed by large glass walls; we now floated on the surface of a bottomless sea. The water was refreshingly cold and spectacularly clear - I could see down into the depths, into the darkness. Although relishing in the crystal waters, I felt somewhat anxious about the creatures that might lurk beneath. I looked around for signs of sharks and, indeed, big fish, perhaps six or seven, came swimming up through the water towards us. As they neared, I could see they were dolphins and knew, in their presence, we were safe. We welcomed them and they us, as they swam around us, close enough to stroke. The dolphins each wore hundreds of iridescent blue-green spots on their backs, and I could see their sharp teeth but did not fear them. One dolphin came close to me, facing me, and I put my arms around it, embracing it. My friend and I felt fortunate, blessed by both the divine sea and the friendship of the dolphins.

artists' house

I drove to the other side of the mountain and parked in the street outside a house. Although I had no idea who lived there, I felt drawn to visit. I walked up the stoney drive to the old, rambling house. In the front yard, hidden from the road by tall trees, were perhaps a dozen men in their thirties and forties, all handsome. Each of them seemed engaged in an industrious, creative endeavour - painting, sculpting, building, drawing, making. I entered a large room and looked around at the paintings and art pieces, some finished, some in the making. All were very good. I was particularly taken by the beginnings of a portrait of a young woman - really just a sketch on stretched canvas, with a reddish undercoat. The women of the house entered - again, about a dozen young women in their thirties and forties, all beautiful - and each took up whatever pursuit she had temporarily left. One woman resumed working on the portrait and there was no doubt it was in her likeness. She asked to see photos of my dog, so I walked to the car to retrieve my phone on which they are stored. She spied my red car and seemed, surprisingly, impressed, though the car is modest. I searched for the photos but, pressing all the wrong icons, she took my phone and somehow made the photos appear on pieces of paper that, once viewed, fluttered to the ground. It was time to go. I drove back home but, compelled, I later returned. This time the house was more like an old, stately apartment building, the apartments all on one floor. I walked up the drive, into the building and found myself in a large foyer. The dark brown wooden door of each apartment opened to the foyer, so I walked around the space, peering through each one. Although each apartment was unique, they shared a similar aesthetic and creative beauty. I could see most bedrooms were furnished with deep red curtains and the beds were dressed in sumptuous cream or ivory antique lace quilts and pillowslips. Rather than assuaging my curiosity, it was piqued. I felt drawn, almost envious of the inhabitants, feeling they had found a lifestyle I longed for. Again, it was time to go. Later, I visited a third time. This time the community was gathered for a celebration in a hall beside the house. It was night and most of them had already arrived and were seated inside, while some milled outside, greeting one another. Standing outside, I could see through the window to the candlelit room. Beautiful people laughed and talked. Music played. Platters of food adorned long tables. A woman outside began to tell me a story from her life, but one of the men insisted on catching my attention. He stood next to me with his young son and also began talking. I tried to concentrate on the woman's story, but was distracted by the man. We talked for a while and, although I enjoyed his company, I became aware our conversation was arousing jealousy and gathered this man was the leader of the group, perhaps sought after by the other women. Deciding it was time to go, I drove back across the mountain to my home, where I lived alone in an old apartment. I opened the door, flicked on the light and opened another door to let my dog in. She wasn't there, but five young puppies of various breeds spilled out of the enclosure, into the room and ran outside. Although I was concerned for the pups, I was more worried about the whereabouts of my dog. I looked around the room - my furniture and belongings were disheveled and leftover roasted pumpkin wedges with feta cheese lay discarded on plates on the table. The lights blew and I was in darkness. I felt my way down the hall and opened the door to my bedroom where I found my mother and sister sleeping with my dog safely resting at the foot of the bed. Relieved, I ran into the garden to find the puppies. I tried to catch them as they scampered about, but, as I captured each one, it turned into a small bird and, opening my hands, I let each fly away, until all were gone.

a time of passing

In a church, waiting for a show to begin. I sat in the front row, wearing a long purple dress. Purple flowers in a bouquet rested on the pew beside me. It became evident the ceremony was to be about me. Was I getting married or witnessing my funeral? I looked around the crowd and, apart from my family, I could not see a familiar face. I lay down on the pew and someone placed my niece and nephew on my chest. Although in waking life they are adults, they were smaller versions of themselves - the size of newborn babes. I cradled them against me. After a moment, some music began and my niece and nephew became my sister and my brother, who, resuming their actual size, climbed off me and, together, we ventured over to where a small audience was gathered around the musicians. My brother immediately went into the fenced area to sit on the floor and listen. My sister stood outside for a moment and then followed him in. I wanted to join them, but, not liking the music, I instead walked up the aisle and out of the church. A larger crowd again milled around the church grounds and beyond. I found a sandy park and, there, I threw a ball, back and forth, to my dog. Slowly, people gathered in the park, mostly doing their own thing. A man caught my ball and used it to perform magic tricks. He spun the ball around in his hands, threw it in the air and caught it on the tips of his fingers, moved it through the air without touching it, using the electrical power emanating from his hands. I was mesmerised for a while and then, suddenly, I felt urgent about finding my friend. I ran out of the park, asking people had they seen her, and ran through a festival with hundreds of stalls selling food and trinkets. I searched the rows of stalls, my urgency growing. I saw another friend minding a stall: she called to me, but, in my haste, I waved and ran on, hoping she would not mind. Running past the church, I wondered about my brother and sister, but felt that no matter where we were, even should we pass on from this life, we were connected. So I ran on, across a road and into a huge stadium. Hundreds of people lined the curving walls, applauding the finale of a show. I tore through the crowd and, as I went, I called my friend's name, my voice echoing against the emptying stadium walls. I could not find her.

spots, fever, layers, song and shower

In the late afternoon, in the family home of my teenage years, I noticed a ring of raised red skin on my forehead, and another on my chest below my collar bone. I went to my father, who was sitting in his chair in the lounge room, to show him. We found a few more and I was a little perplexed. I needed to be somewhere in about half an hour (a class?) and I noticed I was wearing a green tailored suit, not at all suitable for where I was going. I thought I'd race upstairs and leave the jacket on but swap the pants for jeans; however, in the process of dressing, I realised I was thoroughly saturated with perspiration. I needed to have a shower and quickly. In the bathroom, with the door locked, I began to undress and, while I did, I sang. The acoustics of the bathroom were wonderful and I played with pitch, high and low, devising the song as I went. My clothes, soaked through, were difficult to peel away, and I seemed to remove layer upon layer. Jumpers, tops and more tops. Pants under pants under pants. Even when I finally made it down to my underwear, I found I was wearing several bras and layers of underpants. People - not family - began to queue at the door, waiting to use the bathroom, and I knew I was running late. After discovering yet another layer of underwear, I decided that I would shower regardless. I closed the glass door behind me and washed away the sweat, all the while singing a lilting, lovely song. Upon finishing, the door opened and two old women wandered in. I tried, kindly, to usher them out, encouraging them to wait just a few more minutes while I dressed.

something taken and falling into hole

I walked home from the shop having bought some nuts. I placed them in a bowl and set the bowl aside while I briefly climbed the stairs to my apartment, which was very much like a treehouse. Upon returning, the nuts had been eaten and I knew who had eaten them. I thought about what to do and decided to get some money from my wallet and give it to the girl who had eaten my nuts, so she could walk to the shop and buy some more for me. Although I was a little angry, and now that the nuts were gone, I thought this may resolve the matter without unnecessary drama, and may teach the girl the value of not taking what was not given to her. Coins in hand, I went to speak with the girl, but a giant pile of bark mulch with a cavernous hole in the centre of the pile stood between me and the girl. I somehow gravitated to the pile and fell down the hole, perhaps twenty feet into the dug-out earth. I was terrified as I knew at any moment the mulch could fall into the hole and bury me alive. I called to the girl and begged her to get help and fast. Moments later some circus performers appeared at the mouth of the hole and one, a man I know, tied a rope around his torso and somersaulted into the hole, tethered me to him, and the other performers pulled us out. I was grateful to be saved, thanks to the performers and the girl.