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.

not as daunting as it seems

As I sang, my friend accompanied me on the clarinet; a striking and spare rendition of a well-known song. 

Next, I was walking down an urban street with another friend, and, as we walked, I told her about my musical experience. I felt convinced that singing was something that I had to pursue. The street changed and narrowed and soon we were walking along a lane, flanked either side by tall stone walls, heading toward the harbour. We could see the water at the end of the lane, which was rising at an alarming rate. The water - bright blue and very clear - towered before us, creating a third wall that was growing with each step closer. We were now wading through thigh-deep water. I caught sight of a whale's tail, disappearing into the king waves. The tail was frighteningly huge, and, judging by its size, the whale would be truly enormous. We stopped walking, afraid to go any closer. We watched the water and saw the whale's tail again. Suddenly, a man standing on one of the stone walls, reached into the water and pulled out a dolphin with a very strange shaped head. He placed it atop the wall. It was not a whale after all; what had seemed to be so terrifying and so large, was not so. The dolphin leapt off the wall and into the water in the passageway, swimming swiftly up the lane, past our legs. I wanted to touch him. As he turned and swam back toward the harbour, he brushed against my legs. I was delighted.

fair boy

I was travelling along a road that ran alongside the beach, high up, as though on the edge of a tall cliff. I was with a blonde toddler who was on a skateboard, and I was running to keep up with him. Suddenly he turned off the road, hoisted the skateboard onto his little shoulders, and ran down a flight of stairs. I ran after him, concerned that he would lose his foothold or become unbalanced by the weight of the board and fall. The old cement stairs twisted and turned so that he was just out of view. I passed someone I knew from my teenage years and said hello, but had to keep moving on so that I could follow the boy. As I ran, I approached a landing area somewhere in the middle of the steep flight of stairs and I saw the youngster open the rock lid of a secret chamber in a wall and climb inside, obviously hoping to play a trick on me. I was terribly anxious about his safety, thinking of the creatures that might hide in such a damp and dark space and hoping that he would be able to get out. When I reached the wall, I opened the rock lid and could see his fair head ducked down inside, but the neck of the opening had contracted and he was now too big to climb out - his head was larger than the hole. I ran my hands over the wall, desperate to find another way to pull him out, terrified that he would be entombed. I found an opening further up the wall and could see that there was a small tunnel, only just big enough for him to crawl through.