horse ride

Sitting astride a caramel horse, inside a community hall, waiting while other people readied themselves with their horses. My horse, impatient to run, suddenly cantered out the door into a field of long grass. I rode with my left hand high in the air, my right holding onto the saddle. I didn't have any reins. I steadied myself using my body weight and slowly brought down my left hand to join my right, gripping the saddle fast. I wondered about the horse's hooves striking something unforeseen in the grass - a snake, a rock, a hole - but the horse ran with confidence. I began to enjoy the ride, not knowing where we would go. We rode through the rain: a stone-grey sky against yellow grass. We approached a low-set, rambling wooden house and rode up the balcony stairs, through the front door, along the hall past the kitchen and came to a stop near a second balcony where my family was gathered. I felt pleased and liberated after the ride. I jumped off the horse and it trotted away, back outside, into the grass. I noticed the horse had left a small puddle on the timber floor, but I was not concerned. I simply cleaned it up.

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.

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.

unclean house

I had returned home after some time away, but home was no longer the place I recognised. I lived in a large house with many, many rooms housing people with whom I have worked over the years. In fact, as the dream progressed, the house became increasingly like a place of work, even though it was furnished with the usual items one would find in a home. I was in the bathroom, doing my best to shower and dress, but the room had been left in a mess. Damp towels hung on the rails, the bath was filled with dirty water, the toilet was not flushed and sported drips on the seat, the shower needed a scrub, and various personal items had been discarded on the floor. For some reason, I needed to hurry - a job to do? - but I determined to return to clean the house from top to bottom. While I readied myself, I flung the soiled towels into a heap on the tiled floor and opened the bathroom door, so at least I could create a washing pile and air the room. Two women with whom I have worked closely were walking about in the hall, also preparing to go somewhere to work. I told them that I intended to clean out the rooms, that I like a clean house. They obviously agreed and yet they had neglected to keep the house in order.

three dreams

Three dreams -
One: A friend was voluntarily locked in a room. I tiptoed around outside the room, doing my best to be silent. I collected glass after used glass from the floor, all of them drained of one or another alcoholic drink that my friend had consumed. Wine glasses, champagne flutes, beer glasses and empty bottles; I collected as many as I could, setting them upon the sink, doing my best not to wake her.
Two: My friend shouted at my brother over the telephone. I was appalled, outraged, and would not let it be. It was as though she had attacked the most precious, most vulnerable part of myself. I insisted that she call back and apologise; not until she had done so would I even consider continuing any kind of friendship. She called, the other members of my immediate family present. She apologised, but insincerely, without actually taking responsibility and with no remorse. It was not enough. I did not believe her, or sense any kind of true understanding of her actions, only that she did not want to be punished. My mother and my sister backed me. We all wanted her to call again and truthfully express her apologies at having vented so misguidedly.
Three: I was driving my car, attempting to park at a venue around four in the afternoon. The venue carpark was closed and so I drove around the nearby streets, searching for a park. I wanted to find somewhere close and well lit so that once the event had finished, I could return to my car quickly and safely. I saw someone leaving a great spot, directly opposite the venue, on a corner. I drove easily into the park, but, once there, realised that it was reserved for buses and other commercial vehicles. I left and drove around a couple of streets, each taking me further from the venue and increasingly dark. I saw what I initially thought was a great park; certainly easy to get in to. However, while driving into it, I looked around and saw that the surrounding houses reeked with bad energy. I senses danger. I looked back to my park too late and drove straight into a pit that had opened in the road before me. I dropped through the ground into darkness and, immediately, my car turned into a bicycle and I caught it between my knees and grabbed onto the side of the road so that I hung from it, and my bike hung from me. I waited there for someone to give me a hand up. I thought that, should they come, I could pass them my bike (which I knew to really be a car) and then climb out of the pit with their assistance. I did not want to fall, knowing that it would be into the unknown.

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.

neglect and spiders

I am at my grandparents' home, in the suburb where I grew up. As in real life, they are no longer alive, and the house is run down. I am staying overnight, perhaps longer, and it is dark - time for bed. I am walking around the house, shutting windows and doors, somewhat afraid of what lies beyond the walls of the house. The house itself is in semi-darkness and each corner, each doorway poses a new ordeal: is there someone hiding in the shadows? I walk out onto the enclosed back verandah and notice that I have left the back door unlocked and the window leading into the bathroom gapes open - a black hole. I steel myself and pull the window sash firmly down. From here, I can also see that the laundry windows are open. I step toward the dark doorway, but find myself caught in spiders' webs. Ten or more spiders have built webs that drape over the entrance to the laundry, all non venomous species, but large and frightening just the same. Spiders clutch at my skin. I backtrack, extracting myself from the webs, shaking the last of the spiders free, shuddering at the memory of their touch. I close the back door and then notice Snuffy, my grandparents' dog, sitting inside on the verandah. She looks neglected, her hair bedraggled and wet, her countenance sad. I thought she was dead. I reopen the door to send her outside, down to her bed, but as I am closing the door, I see her plead with me, lifting one paw into the air. I cannot send her outside. I open the door and bend over to pet her. I feel her oldness and her vulnerability and I want to take care of her. It is too heartbreaking and I wake.

strangers

I was living with my parents in the house we built when I was young. My bed was in their bedroom - 'the main bedroom', as we called it - and their bed was in an adjoining room, where the verandah was in real life. It was the middle of the night and, instead of sleeping, I was walking as quietly as possible around the house, looking at my artwork. I was trying to price the various pieces for sale, doing my best to set a good price with which I was happy, but that I knew would move the work. I noticed that the frames of several paintings needed repair, that the work inside had slipped. After making some decisions, I walked through the dark to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. The mattress was on the floor, as though I was there only temporarily. I noticed that it was warmer than it had been when I first arrived some months before, and that I no longer needed the quilt; it was heaped in the corner. Suddenly I noticed a light - torchlight - beaming about the room. I hid under the quilt and the intruders obviously thought there was no one home, for they immediately began talking loudly and switching on lights downstairs. They flicked on the television and the stereo and the house, in the dead of night, was filled with ugly noise. I went into my parents' room; they were waking, not sure what was going on. They were each holding a cigarette and a packet of tobacco was lying on the bed. They looked surprised, as was I, as neither of them have ever smoked. They put out the butts and we went downstairs to see what was going on. I went first, my temper flaring as I saw two people - a young man and his girlfriend - taking food out of the refrigerator, helping themselves. I raced up to the man, whose horrible energy betrayed the kind of person he was, and shouted at him: This is not a share house, this is a family home. You have no right to be here. Take yourselves out of here. Get out. Instead, he grabbed me around the throat and pushed me up against a wall. I could feel how strong and wiry he was, how pumped up with aggression, and I knew that I was in an extremely dangerous situation. The girl kept laughing, louder and louder. Her mouth was open, screaming with laughter. My parents stood to one side and I knew my father was about to intervene.
Later, I was on a beach. I could see my family (my extended family) swimming in the water, but I sat up on the sand. Finally, my father came to fetch me. We walked down the sand and stepped into the water, which stretched out under a ceiling of rock - a cave of sorts - before continuing on past the cave, out to the ocean. Under the arch of rock, the water was in semi-darkness. It was quite scary, not being able to see properly. I felt bits of weed and other creatures brush past me, and I was not sure that I liked it here. My father assured me that it was alright. After a while, someone came to usher us out. It was another family's turn to swim in the sea. We filed out and up the sand, while a Maori family filed down the sand and into the water. They were also going to give a small performance for their extended family, later in the day, and I wondered if we were to stay to watch. I saw a woman sitting to one side, someone I have not seen for twenty years and whom I was excited to see. I ran over to say hello, but she didn't recognise me. I reminded her of our connection, but she was entirely unenthusiastic. I wished her well and walked away; as I went, I could hear her laughing behind me.

the roof of my home

I was looking at the internal structure of a roof, at the metal beams that held it in place. Although I was not familiar with the house underneath, I knew it to be my home. The metal beams formed a pyramid shape: a square around the bottom with four beams reaching up and in from each of the corners, meeting in the middle point at the top. Each length of beam was actually made up of smaller beam sections, interlocking, so that the structure was, theoretically, quite sturdy. I was up inside the structure, looking around, and, from this vantage, I could see that there were three pieces of the beams missing, all from different parts of the structure and each a different length. I knew that without these three pieces, the roof was both incomplete and unstable. I climbed down and searched the house for the missing pieces. I found all three in different rooms of the house. The longest piece I found last, tucked away behind the door of the bedroom cupboard. I then set about putting each beam piece in place, the two shorter pieces first and then, most challengingly, the longest beam.

journey to a new home

I was on a bus, travelling through an unfamiliar city, although I understood that I had made this journey many times before and that I had spent great lengths of time on board, even living on the bus. I also knew that this was one of the last times I would travel this route. I gathered my bags and collected my personal belongings, some of which were strewn about, under seats and such. Approaching the stop where I was to alight, I scanned the bus, thinking that I may have to come back to thoroughly search out any remaining belongings. I thanked the bus driver and he leaned forward, pressing a gold coin into my palm. I looked at the coin, noticing how incredible the designs on either side were and how unusual the shape. I leaned forward and pressed my nose and forehead against his for a moment before a grass green butterfly flew between us as I stepped back. I left the bus and walked to where my friend lived in a huge, old white house. There seemed to be quite a lot of people loitering about the grounds and in the rooms. I felt unsure of what to do, being quite new to this place. I looked into great pots of food that were being prepared and thought that this was an area where I could contribute once I had settled in. I followed my friend outside and around the corner of the house to where the outside tap was. The mud under the tap was extremely slippery and we both began to slide down the hill, alongside the house until we shot out into the back yard. The yard was filled with big mud puddles and we continued sliding. I was wearing my long black boots so my feet were quite protected. I concentrated on maintaining my balance and held out an arm for my friend - who was not wearing any shoes - to hang onto. In this way, we slid down the sloping backyard, past a couple who were relaxing on the grass, through deep puddles nearly reaching my knees, and then coming to a halt on the other side of the house.

warning

B and I were living in a house directly opposite the New Farm shopping centre in an old cottage that was in need of structural repair. It was night and we were sitting in the lounge room, watching television. B was waiting for someone to arrive with some important documents, so I was attentive to any sounds of visitors at the front of the house. Someone knocked at the door and I ran through the house, opened the door that divided the lounge room from the entrance, and called out, asking who it was. A male voice answered that he was the secretary and, without checking further, I opened the front door. A man of about fifty, balding with grey hair around the sides of his head and with a grey beard, wearing a dirty white t-shirt, stood at the door with a group of others lurking behind. He said he wanted a cup of coffee. I hesitated as I didn't want to let him in, but another man stepped forward and produced a cheap plastic stanley knife with the blade fully drawn. He threatened me with it and I could think of no way of preventing them from entering. Knowing I had no milk in the house, thinking that just maybe this might deter them, I asked how he liked his coffee and he answered 'black'. They walked forward - the two men and about three other people behind them - backing me through the house. B had heard them coming and was in the kitchen, putting the jug on. She too asked - urgently - how he wanted his coffee and again the man answered 'black'. It was, of course, a ruse to enter the house and I knew that B would be trying to think of a way to protect us. The man wielding the knife had me cornered, and I could do nothing.
I woke briefly and went back to sleep.
I was in a house where many people lived. Again it was an old house in need of repair. While the others were busy with their own business, I ventured out the back of the house and around to the side gate. The afternoon was darkening and I retreated, through the back yard which stretched out into the vacant block next door, with no fence to divide the two properties. On the vacant block I could see a woman who I knew was with the group that had entered our house in the dream earlier. I knew too that it had been a dream and now I recalled it like a warning. I hurried to the back door, but was cut off by the same man from the previous dream who had threatened me with the knife. Again he held a cheap plastic stanley knife with the blade fully drawn and he toyed with it, placing it to my throat and pretending to slash the skin on my arms. Again he wanted to come in.
The dream skipped forward and I was inside the house, safe from harm, but quite upset. I found two friends who were also living in the house. They were both friends from my school days and I knew they knew me well. I need to tell them about the experience. I explained the first dream as though it had been a harbinger, and then told them, in great detail, about the second occurrence.I felt that had I listened to the message of the first dream, that I wouldn't have been faced with the danger twice.

hippopotamus

I caught a bus home. The bus travelled up my street and dropped my at my driveway. Upon entering the house, I noticed a balcony that I had never seen before. I sat on a chair on the balcony, enjoying the afternoon sun, amazed that I had not been here before. There was a beautiful view of the river - a deep blue body of water only a few moments walk from where I sat. To my close right, I saw giant hippopotami wading through the water. I was careful to be still and quiet as I did not want to disturb the enormous animals, having heard that they can become quite vicious. I marvelled at their size, their massive heads poking out of the water. One hippopotamus walked out of the water and I could see that though they were huge, they were also quite lean. Erring on the side of caution, I decided to leave my spot and go inside, just in case the hippo wandered too close.