bomb and haunted street

I was in Paddington in Brisbane and somehow I became involved with a man who was planning an attack on the neighbourhood. I didn't much like him and felt anxious in his presence. At some point, I was with my friend F, walking up a completely deserted Caxton Street, when the man ran past, threw something at me and ran away. I caught what he threw and then looked down to see that I was holding a bomb. I didn't know what to do or if it was real. A vast drain opened before me underneath a terrace house so I threw the bomb down the drain. I had no idea if it would explode but I hoped that I had averted a disaster. Nothing happened. I walked over and looked through the window of the house above the drain and it turned out to be a restaurant. It was Christmas day and a family I know was dining in the front room of the restaurant. The mother, who used to be my singing teacher, saw me and came out to say hello. Through the glass I could see the rest of the family enjoying each others' company. The mother emerged from the wooden doored entrance and I noticed the lovely floral fabric of the loose dress that she was wearing and her beautiful red hair. We hugged one another warmly and walked across the street. I wanted to get the rest of the family out of the building, just in case the bomb blew up, but for some reason I could not speak of the bomb openly. The woman and I went into a shop across the road. We opened the glass swinging door, sounding a bell, and slipped into the quiet shop. Its shelves were lined with old books and dust. There was no one in attendance. After a while, we went back out and I noticed that that my singing teacher friend was holding a small dog with a funny shaped snout. She said that she was glad that I had given her the dog whilst we were in the shop but I knew I had not given it to her. I then realised that the street was haunted. We crossed back over the road and she passed the dog to me. I stroked his silky hair and nursed him whilst we went into a vintage shop. I was still concerned about the bomb somewhere in the drain below the restaurant where her family were eating a Christmas lunch, but I followed her into the shop.

singing

I was sitting around a large table with about twenty others, gathered in a meeting room somewhere. Each of us was to sing a song; we were auditioning for something. I wanted to sing and was excited about my turn approaching, but I was nervous as I couldn't think of a song to which I knew all the words. While others were singing, I trawled my memory, searching for a suitable song that I knew well enough to perform.

peacocks

Two plump peacocks perched up high, overlooking the room. Neither was the usual colour of peacocks: one was blood red with deep blue and emerald green markings and the other was sapphire blue with rich red and green markings. I was walking past and looked up to see them sitting there as though on guard. I stopped awhile, admiring their beauty, before walking on.

issues

I was walking through a city mall, outside in the sunshine. I saw a tall slender woman with dark hair who I thought was very beautiful and extremely stylish. Another woman, her twin, was preparing to perform a show. She must not have been an identical twin as she has lighter hair, a mid-brown colour, and a more tawny complexion, though she was just as tall. As I passed her, she looked into my face - a moment - and then I kept walking. I decided to go back and watch the show so I went up to the stage where there were high bar stools placed around, pulled one out and sat. I understood that she and her sister were from a very wealthy family and the first sister was adorned by her wealth but the second sister used her wealth to change the world. I then saw an interview with her, projected onto a screen; she was sitting with her girlfriend, a petite young woman with blue eyes and freckles and they were openly affectionate.
Next, I was in a communal bathroom in the building where I was living. I spoke with the woman who is the Manager of the building that I actually live in. I left the building and then turned back having forgotten something in my apartment. At the front door, I scrambled to find my key but I couldn't find anything like it on the key ring. Finally, I just tried any old key and the door opened. Inside were four young women sitting on the couch and a fifth young woman standing in the bedroom, looking scared to see me. I felt that the fifth girl was my niece or a charge. They were all stoned and I was angry. I shooed them all out except the standing girl who I berated.
Next, to vent my anger, I walked outside into the city and stumbled upon a very small cinema showing confrontational films. I took a seat at the back and soon other people came in. Someone passed me a pair of eye glasses which put on for a moment and then removed, not needing to wear them. I realised that they belonged to my friend who I could see sitting a few rows in front, leaning forward, attentive to the film. She was featured in the film, speaking out in favour of nudity and acceptance of various confrontational issues. Her glasses were coming apart - the arm away from the lens frame - and I decided to fix them. I tried to simply tighten the screw but it popped out and so did a tiny spring. I picked up the spring and the screw to reinsert them, but they jumped out of my fingers. Over the next few minutes, the spring kept changing shape, uncoiling, coiling up the wrong way, falling under the seat and so on and so forth, making it impossible to fix the glasses. Finally I couldn't find either the screw or the spring and asked someone to pass them to me but what they gave me was an enormous light blue screw, a matching bolt and a pin - nothing suitable to mend the glasses. I woke up.

kidnapped

I was kidnapped by a married couple, much like a couple I know in waking life. They took me from where I was camped with many other people and, after a time, we drove away up the coast. I gathered that the original camping site was somewhere around Bellingen and we were heading toward Queensland. We stopped at a service station so they could get some petrol and food. Whilst they were paying, I tried to tell a man, quietly, that I had been kidnapped; I asked for his help. I could see that he didn't believe me and walked away. Outside, walking back to the car, I felt cold, poorly dressed for the oncoming night. I saw a woman walk toward me dressed in long red velvet robes. She raised her eyebrows but I wasn't sure if she was suspicious of us, or merely commenting on my state of dress - I was disheveled and underdressed. The kidnapper woman pulled at my arm and shoved me into the car and we drove off until we reached a beach further up the coast. The couple seemed to be walking thin line between being kind and being cruel. They gave me some food to eat and we sat on the shore, looking at the moon and the land across the sea, which seemed to be lit up by sunlight and glowed with warmth, while we sat here in the dark and cold. A few days later, we were in a room with a few other people. The couple addressed me by a fictitious name. A woman that I knew when she was a girl came in spoke with the couple but slipped me a note which I hid under the piece of paper I was writing on. I could see that she recognised me and knew that something was terribly amiss. I put both pieces of paper in my handbag and put it aside to read later when the opportunity arose. There seemed to be pages and pages of paper stuffed into my bag and I tried to push it down so as not to arouse the kidnappers' suspicion. Meanwhile, the kidnapper man fell asleep and another man came in carrying precious stones and jewels. He lay them out on a low table, spreading them with his palm, until the table glittered with stones. The kidnapper woman seemed enthralled and even benevolent for a moment while her husband was asleep. She allowed me to scoop up beautiful stones and hold them in both hands, admiring them for just a moment. They shone brilliantly: lustrous pearls, nuggets of silver, warm pink stones and stones that gleamed with every colour of the rainbow. One stone, a rose quartz, dropped onto the ground and woke the man, but as he woke, I realised that he was both the man sleeping and the man with the stones. I woke.

wild ride

I was a passenger in a car with my partner. We were driving around unfamiliar roads but from the terrain, I assumed that we were somewhere on the coast of NSW around Hat Head. I was busy with sending a text to someone and when I looked up, B had moved into the back seat of the car and the steering wheel was unattended. I could see oncoming traffic and could feel the car speeding up. I desperately tried to move from the passenger seat into the driver's seat but seemed trapped by the seatbelt and the space in which I had to move. I tried to reach the brakes to no avail whilst I was steering the car from my side position - it all felt wrong. We turned a corner, swinging down a street next to a marsh - wild, scrubby trees grew along the bank. Rather than continuing our reckless ride, I steered the car off the road and into a tree, crashing and bringing the car to a sudden halt. I knew that it would look as though I had failed but I felt it was the only thing that I could have done.

caravan

I needed to store a painting and to find another. I went into the backyard behind an old white house. The yard sloped down, away from the house, leading to a lake. It was night time and everything was difficult to see. There was a double-decker caravan parked in the yard - this seemed to be where I lived. I climbed inside the van and then up the internal stairs which were built to one side of the caravan. I knew that I had to get to the upper level where I would be able to find the painting I needed and store the one I was holding. The painting in my arms was primarily black with brightly coloured shapes - pink, blue, red and yellow - like boats, floating around in the darkness. The staircase seemed terribly narrow and I was concerned that my weight and the slope of the yard would mean that the caravan would roll or slide into the lake. The caravan dislodged and began to swing around in wide circles, my weight acting as a pendulum. Eventually, I freed myself, rolling from the van and found someone to help me hammer pegs into the ground, fastening the caravan into place again, as you would a tent.