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.