swimming, eel and chase

We swam in a giant rock pool by the sea. The water was clear, turquoise and cold. It was like magic, diving like dolphin - so liberating. I swam with my family, my partner and my dog. We moved like fish in a school. After a time, someone announced they were going to reveal the giant eel in the pool. I was surprised as I hadn't seen an eel in the water, but unalarmed. We gathered around and a man tapped a rock, luring the eel to the surface. Sure enough, it came, but, at first, it seemed only to be the size of a tree snake. As we watched, it slowly revealed its full size: it was enormous; a giant, indeed. It's girth was perhaps a foot or more wide and, how long it was, I do not know, for it swam beneath the water - elusive, in and out of sight. At a guess, it may have been twenty metres or more. It was regally patterned, deep gold and black. I swore not to swim again and a man, upon hearing me, questioned why, when the water was so beautiful. I told him though the eel would not likely harm us, I couldn't risk it. 'I love my dog too much to see anything happen to her', I said. At that moment, a woman riding a very tall black horse rode past. She rode bareback and a young child sat in front of her. My dog ran after the horse and the woman slowed to reach down and raise my dog up onto the horse's back, between the child and herself. They rode away. I called out after them, but to no avail. I ran. I ran as fast as I possibly could, around the rocks and through the trees. I could see the horse ahead, but I could not gain ground. I noticed my dog was wagging her tail, enjoying the ride. I chased them through a shopping centre, pushing past shop assistants and customers. Up stairs, down stairs, around corners, in and out of buildings, but they were so fast and always ahead. Finally, I chased them right back to where the chase had begun: by the rock pool by the sea. The horse slowed and the woman alighted, bringing the child and my dog to the ground with her. I ran straight to her, gasping for breath, and hit her as hard as I could. 'You took my dog,' I cried. She looked surprised, but not hurt. 'I was just taking her for a ride', she said.

mistrust

I was with two people - one, a close friend, the other, a woman I have recently befriended. The woman led us into her nursery, a kind of greenhouse full of shade plants, cool and inviting. I felt, however, cautious and stayed by the door, on guard and ready to retreat. The woman moved a few pots and pointed out her hothouse flowers. Long tendrils curled out and gripped the stems of other plants; the air was damp and sweet. I looked about anxiously, fearing snakes were hiding amidst the green. And then I saw one: a pale grey snake with large chocolate eyes - quite beautiful, really - lying quietly on a table between the plants. The woman saw it and, instead of removing it calmly or leaving it be, grabbed it by the neck, held its face to hers and started hissing at it. Initially placid, the snake became increasingly agitated until it opened its jaws wide and hissed back at the woman, furious. I didn't go, but watched horrified, realising I did not trust this woman.

psychic energy

An argument. A woman stood perhaps fifty feet away, near an old grey wooden fence. She yelled at me and I felt incensed; I felt righteous and justified. Instead of words, I hurled my intention at her and, instantly, a ceramic plate that had been leaning against the fence smashed into pieces. She was alarmed and continued to rant, and I was surprised at the power of energy. Pleased, I again directed my anger into thought and sent it her way, another plate cracking down the middle, pieces falling to the ground.

nightmare

Night. The home of my youth. My family, gone. Stay very still. Hold my breath. Something unfolding. A woman and three men do something wrong, something unspeakable. They don't know I'm there. From another room, I spy them. They gather, look down at something out of my view. Pin something down. A squeal, blood and a satisfied smile on the woman's face. Something killed - an animal? I run. Into the dark, bare feet on the drive, loud steps follow. Search for my car. Gone. I'm not fast on foot. No choice but to hide. Run down a sharp-stoned lane into shadow. Scale a fence and creep under a neighbour's house, bury myself behind the foundations, disappear into the dark.

unit and art

I was visiting some people in their new unit. At first, I was only observing the scene as though watching a film, but gradually I became a part of it. The unit was on the top floor of a complex of six units; three on the ground floor and three on the top floor. The inhabitants of two of the top-floor units were friends and divided their time between both units; perhaps more of them knew each other well, but I did not see them. It reminded me of Melrose Place, or some such situation. I did not know anyone well at all and they all seemed to be in their mid thirties, but, even though I am older than that in waking life, I felt a year or two younger. My older sister was there and it became evident that they were her friends. One unit was already furnished and lived in, while the one I was visiting was barely furnished. A blonde woman had nearly finished painting the walls of the entire unit a pale mint green. The style of the unit was quite retro and, although it was not to my taste, the colour quite suited it. Another woman arrived home and became outraged as she had not been consulted as to the new colour. She did not like it and felt that it should be a neutral colour such as white. She and the first woman argued for a while and then the first woman left the room. I had not offered an opinion but as soon as the woman left, the second woman asked me my thoughts on the matter. I said that I thought it would be better if the entire unit was painted a chalky white, with colour introduced by soft furnishings. I suggested warm-coloured furnishings to give the unit a lift. The first woman returned and, immediately, I felt reserved again, aware of the effort it would have taken to paint the unit and not wanting too to attract her anger. I walked around the unit and, as I did, time seemed to pass. It was now painted white, highlighted by soft furnishings and paintings in warm, earthy colours. Fabulous art books and objets d'art were scattered about the place. I went into the dining room and, on the table, saw a crystal bowl. Inside the bowl were several small sculptures of dogs. I picked one up to look at it and then replaced it. Instantly, the dogs came to life. Four tiny dogs walked around inside the bowl. I picked one of them up - a tiny, golden curly-haired dog with sad brown eyes. After putting him back into the bowl, they ceased being live. I walked around the unit again and decided to collect art, to visit galleries and invest in beautiful and valuable pieces.

antique store

We were in a vast antique store, wandering around, just before closing time. The woman who owned the store seemed keen to lock up and leave, but B had just spotted an elegant chest of drawers that she quite liked. In fact, she seemed so taken with the small cabinet that I wanted to buy it for her. I went to fetch the woman to ask her the price. She seemed a little put out. When we returned to the spot where the drawers had been, I could no longer recognise which of the furniture items it was. I called to B and she pointed out a set of drawers that, to my surprise, looked little like the drawers she had liked earlier. The woman told me the price and I followed her to the counter to pay, the drawers, now quite small, in tow. By the time I reached the counter, the drawers had transformed into a big dream catcher made from black horse hair. I looked at it, wondering why we were buying a dream catcher, but placed it on the counter and rummaged through my bag to find my purse. I couldn't find it and, again, the woman seemed to be losing patience. I said to her, jokingly, that I didn't like her either, that from the moment I saw her, I thought her to be disgusting. She looked at me and laughed and, instantly, we liked one another after all. During this time, although she wanted to shut the doors and close for the day, people kept wandering in, and I knew that the sooner B and I were gone, the sooner the woman could go home. I went to find B to see if she had my purse. I found her outside the store, leaning up against a wall, talked to a woman who we both know. Without saying hello to the woman, I interrupted them and asked for my purse, urgent to pay for the goods so that the woman could lock up and leave. I was aware that I was being a little rude. On the way back inside, walking up the stairs, I bumped into a young woman. She turned around and it was my dear friend A. We were so surprised to see one another, in an antique store in the middle of nowhere.

buried alive

I was watching a television program about an abduction case. It was horrific, although the victim, a young woman, possibly still in her teens, had survived to tell the tale. The program flicked between interviews with the victim, reconstructed 'footage' of the happenings and interviews with the police who had investigated the crime. The perpetrator, a man of about sixty or older, had abducted the girl, and buried her alive in a vault beneath his house that was fitted with a bed, sparse furniture and even some decoration. In the interview, the young woman recollected how, sitting on the bed, which ran parallel to a wall under the low ceiling, with her back to the wall, she looked to her right and saw the cut-out pages of fairytales, particularly Red Riding Hood. The man had selected the most frightening of images of wolves and nightmarish characters to line the walls. She remembered how, in the dim light, she looked around, slowly realising by the strangeness of the air - its gradual depletion - that she had, indeed, been buried. The police talked of how they later found the skins of various reptiles in the man's possession as the camera panned over skin after skin of snakes and lizards. They mentioned that his mind had been affected by drug-use in the sixties. The program also showed a reconstruction of the man's wife and daughter arriving home on the day of the abduction, unaware of his harrowing deeds. They both went into his study, the room from which the underground chamber could be reached. I, somehow, went into the scene and slowly drank a glass of water in their kitchen, waiting for them to come out, knowing that they were about to discover that something was horribly wrong. They walked out of the study and into the kitchen area, stunned, and looked to me for help. I went with them, back into the study, to see the man lurching about. He had a bleeding cut on his forehead from where his wife had hit him with something, and he was ranting about spitting, saying that it was wrong to spit. He staggered toward me and, although frightened and repulsed, I grabbed his hands to steady him, hoping to calm him and sit him back down. He was clearly out of his mind. The worst and most sickening thing about it was that I recognised the man, though now he was disturbingly changed.

gift of spite

B and I were in my bedroom in my family home. My sister was in her room, opposite. A delivery man arrived with two bunches of flowers - one enormous bunch of soft pink roses, perhaps six dozen or more, and one small bunch of hot pink lilies or something similar, about four stems. He gave the roses to my sister and the lilies to me, and left. Though the flowers were extremely beautiful, incredibly so, we received them with trepidation. We knew that they were from someone, a woman, who resented us and that this was her way of communicating her ill will. Attached to my flowers was a small gift-wrapped parcel. I opened it to reveal three pairs of silver earrings, each pair bearing engravings depicting scenes from our last interaction, some years before. Again, though they were exceptionally intricate and precious, I felt very uneasy. My sister's bunch of roses hid a similar parcel containing fine jewellry; this time, a set of silver rings, each banded with diamonds. The beauty of her gift was so overwhelming that I almost forgot who had sent it. I tried on her rings, too large for any but my largest finger, and admired them glinting in the light.

how to float

I was living in the family home where I lived as a teenager. I was a student at a university, of sorts; a school where very alternative disciplines were taught, among them flying, levitation & floating, complex business for arcane arts, total body integration, and much more. I recall very little now about the teachings, but I remember the final week of the third year of study, when I suddenly understood the lessons, the years of learning, and knew which of the disciplines I wished to master. A moment of dawning occurred while I was dressing in my bedroom, so, mid way through putting on some clothes, I raced out of my room, wearing only black swimmers, and ran through the rain to the campus. My body felt fit and powerful and I had no qualms of self-consciousness, though I ran past crowds of people. Inside the building, I quietly went from room to room, careful not to disturb the classes, searching for a particular teacher - the teacher of levitation and floating - to tell her about my breakthrough. She was a beautiful woman with silver-grey hair. She was, at that time, teaching a physical integration class, so I waited impatiently outside the room.

lesson: the power of the mind

I was on stage with a performer. She was a magician of sorts and I was there to assist her in her act. I could not see the audience as the lights bearing down on the stage were so intensely bright, they curtained anything behind from view. I could, however, hear the audience and, because of the vast size of the stage and because they were quite vocal, I guessed that the audience was large. I felt no fear, rather I was intrigued by the woman's act. She threw a balloon in the air, toying with it for a moment, perhaps to establish that it was indeed the weight and buoyancy of a common balloon. She then batted the balloon to me. I went to bat it back, but at her command and just before it reached me, it stopped and floated straight up into the air. I could vaguely hear the crowd respond, although my attention was mostly on the occurrences onstage. I looked at the floor to see if there was something - an air vent, a camouflaged fan - that would have changed the course of the balloon so sharply. There was only an indent of someone's heel in the old wooden floor boards. The balloon descended and I caught it, felt it for a moment, and batted it back to the magician. I noticed that my arms felt very weak and that I was barely able to muster the strength to hit the balloon with enough force to send it to her. She put the balloon aside and produced a ball about the size of a basketball. Again, she toyed with the ball for a moment to communicate to the audience its weight and bouncing capacity. She threw the ball at me and, this time, I caught it. I attempted to throw it back, but, again, my arms felt as though they had no strength. Even raising the ball to prepare to throw it was extremely difficult. I lamely tossed the ball back in her direction. It bounced only a few feet in front of me and more or less rolled along the ground to her feet. She looked at me, scooped up the ball and again threw it to me. I caught it, awkwardly and with much effort, thrice feeling the utter weakness of my arms. I took a deep breath and concentrated. I thought that if I could only think it, if I could draw on my inner resources and use my mind to overcome this state, I would be able to throw the ball. I closed my eyes, focused on my rising strength, visualised it growing and saw my body powerful, and threw the ball. It shot past the magician, across the vast stage and off the other side. The magician spun around to face the ball, stretched her arms out in front of her and, using her mental energy, drew the ball back into her hands. The audience cheered and I was impressed by her ability. I realised that it was a lesson on how to use the power of your mind.