house of horror

I travelled to Brisbane for a friend's art exhibition in a house on James Street in Fortitude Valley. I arrived alone and on dusk, and I seemed to be the first person there. The door was ajar, but not open, and the lights were dim. I peered through the window and I was frightened. There, next to my friend's artwork, I saw old photographs of hags covering the walls of the room: old and ugly witches with cruel eyes, hooked noses and twisted mouths. The photographs seemed to be from various times throughout history - even well before the camera was invented. I gathered this was a record of the owner of the house's ancestry, and I was repelled. I did not want to go in, but I feared disappointing my friend. She arrived and went happily into the house, which was now somewhat lit up and open to the invited guests. A few people arrived and I was more or less ushered in with them. I barely saw my friend's artwork, I was so horrified by the photos lining the walls. Photo after photo of evil-looking and grotesque people. I went into the second room - a dining room - where we were to have supper and a lecture on art. As I was supposed to do, I sat at a mammoth dark-wood, highly polished table in the centre of the room. The walls were painted a lifeless grey and heavy teal curtains were closed against the world outside., concealing the room within. A tall man in a black suit dusted the curtains and polished silver ornaments. He kept his face turned away, but I knew he was the owner of the house and would wear the same dreadful countenance of his family line. I felt this was some kind of trap; a scene of a crime about to be committed. I woke up.

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.

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.

money in the wind

I was sitting inside at a vast open window, looking out at people passing by while I sharpened coloured pencils. There must have been hundreds of pencils and I had to sharpen them all before I could draw. The bucket of pencil shavings was half-full and my sharpener was dull. For some reason, my wallet was sitting on the window sill and every so often money would flutter out and blow into the street - ten dollars, twenty dollars, fifty dollars. Each time, people made an effort to help catch my money and return it, but a few times the money was lost. Once, a dog snatched my money out of the air and ran away with it in his teeth.

swept away

I lived in a home with a small back deck, backing onto a river. The deck had no railing and it was perched only a few feet above the water. A friend visited us and she was wearing amazing clothing: a black and red pin-striped three-piece suit, long black high-heeled boots under her pants, and a black suede coat with an intricate cut-out pattern. For some reason, she changed her outfit and left her incredible clothes on the deck. The next day, I was on the phone with another friend, pacing about the house. As I walked past the glass doors leading to the deck, I realised that during the night the tide had risen and water had washed over the deck, sweeping away the clothing. I hung up the phone and, wearing all my clothes, dived off the back deck into the water. Under the water, I could see her pants here, a boot there, but also some eels - fat eels with pronounced eyes and each with pinkish frill along its body. At first I was afraid but soon I realised they were simply curious; they meant no harm. I even saw one swim through the glass doors into the living room and out again. I only vaguely thought about whether this meant there was water in the house. Surfacing to deposit clothing on the back deck or to breathe, I slowly retrieved all of my friend's beautiful clothing. The next day my friend returned. We walked onto the back deck and, again, no clothes. The tide had risen a second time and swept her clothes into the river. Fully clothed, I dived into the river, this time with my friend. Peering around under the water, we could see her clothing here and there; most pieces had travelled further down the river this time. I felt something bite my arm and, looking down, I saw a worm burrowing into my skin. I grabbed its tail between my fingers and pulled. Its body broke in two, but both pieces wriggled away through the water. It looked remarkably like the eel with a pink frill around its body, but with no eyes to speak of. Another worm bit then burrowed into my skin. For a moment I was horrified, but it reappeared in one piece, seemingly no harm done. Again, we retrieved my friend's clothing. I noticed the feel of the quality fabric and the cut of the garments as I fished them out of the water. Suddenly, there was no water; just a dry river bed. We walked along, away from the house, following the trail of clothing. I looked back to the house and could see a wall of water rushing toward us. 'Jump up', I called to my friend, and we jumped and found ourselves swept along by the water, but safe on its surface. Later, back on the deck, I worried about the remaining items of clothing we'd not been able to retrieve. 'Don't worry about it', said my friend. 'It's only clothes.'

a new life

I was living on Earth in 4000 AD. The planet had undergone a monumental shift - a death and rebirth - which had occurred sometime in the 21st Century, not too far in the future. I was the same age I am now. Earth seemed, somehow, smaller and more industrial, even fabricated, in part. An apocalypse had occurred. I heard stories of how, slowly, survivors found one another, crawled out from where they had been near-buried, and started again, doing their best to reestablish humanity's earlier learnings. They tried to remember the truths, the lessons, but it seemed everything was slightly askew. Their ways of doing things resembled life before; but, with the same foundations, they had created new pathways, new patterns, new cultures. New ways to interact with one another. I had a friend - a woman older than me and much taller and finer, who seemed to serve as a guide. It was evident I was new here; woken, perhaps, from an imposed sleep. Had I too survived and been so severely damaged I was in an induced state of slumber until that time it was safe to be alive? I was out of place. My way of being in the world was not the new way of being. Everyone seemed to have an innate knowledge of what to do, the order of things. My friend and I were talking about family. I told her I had had a beautiful family - a mother, a father, a sister and brother, and extended family, all so dear to me. I ached with longing to see them again and regretted time spent apart. The woman asked if I had had children and if I would like to begin my family anew. I doubted, at my age, it was likely, but she assured me it was indeed probable, and encouraged me to waste no time - to fall pregnant that very day. I agreed and we went to a particular shop that sold herbs, spices and other rarities, stocked in vast jars on the shelves. Rather than talking to the shop owner directly, the woman pointed to various jars, commenting on the contents. It was a code, a message to the shopkeeper, telling her why we were there. The shop owner understood and looked at me intently, then ushered me inside and made me comfortable at the rear of the shop. She fetched tea then opened a store cupboard; an unusual man appeared and approached me. He was, perhaps, of Arabic descent - a handsome man with black hair, dark eyes and caramel skin - but the most unusual thing about him was the blue aura around him, which resembled the mist that might surround a genie. Rather than being sexual, I understood him to be a eunuch with special esoteric powers, who, somehow, was about to impregnate me. But, first, he read me - my mind, my body - he could read the person I was. I was not afraid; rather, I knew this was the way to begin again.

protected

Lying on the floor in a room where small children played happily and my dog nosed at a ball. A mammoth green and black python slid into the room. The children were unafraid and one child - sitting just next to me - reached out and patted the snake on the tip of its tail. Agitated, it lashed around and appeared to come straight at me. I closed my eyes, certain I would feel its mouth close around my hand or face. When I opened my eyes, my dog gazed down at me anxiously, lovingly, wagging her tail. The children told me she had launched at the snake and finished it before it could hurt me.