dreams...
We're downstairs in the basement, the owner and I, it's a dug-out basement, unfinished cement floors and walls, sitting and having coffee. Light streams in from a walk out patio; for a moment - just a moment - the light crosses his face, it's beautiful - jet black hair, vivid, startling blue eyes, he's very handsome and I say that I want a camera, he doesn't understand but someone runs to get me a camera....
They bring it to me, it's an old Minolta or some such, film camera, and I'm a little amazed but it has all these little cardboard key cards on a thread hanging from it, and as I begin to take pictures I understand, he's had it adapted to digital, each photo I snap cycles the key-cards through it, I'm making him stand and move forward, trying to recapture the slash of light across his face as it was there for just a minute before, it's no use.....
We end up outside, the light, it was that of the setting sun, we're around the house now, still taking photos, there are clouds in the sky and the patches of light disappear quicker than we can find them, the moment's been lost....
Now, through his yard on this farm, there comes a wind, then a slender tornado...and I realize why the light was so eerie; we dodge it, then run through some trees to look, from the east there comes a storm, multiple tornadoes touch narrow fingers to the ground and we turn to run for shelter but it's too late, it's upon us -
And for a moment it's quiet...all to the east, we're in the very eye of the storm, within the cut swathe of destruction, strange shapes clutter the grounds, it takes but a second to recognize stegosauruses, giant dragons, winged fairies, simulacra and demons all cavorting in the strange, unquiet peace that permeates this place....beside me the owner asks me what it is he's seeing, he doesn't trust his eyes, I snap a picture and the flash alerts them to our presence, the storm reawakens and we're running for shelter again, the house with it's concrete basement has imploded...
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- Category: Dreams
We're getting along famously, Rob, Margaret and I. These are the people I work for.
And in the dream I'm working for them, cleaning a fieldstone fireplace. Margaret has an old E-Type Jaguar that she drives everywhere, it needs some work, some TLC, and I'm trying to persuade her to sell it.
Rob, he has an old Jaguar too, but he's staying out of the conversation, we're cleaning the fireplace together. There are children playing behind us, Margaret's looking after them, it's what she does. Greg has an old car too, something like what Fozzy Bear drove in "The Muppet Movie", only in better condition, new paint job, better interior, although what that has to do with anything is a mystery. Everyone seems to have an old car.
I'm trying to buy Margaret's, she doesn't really want it, but has suddenly contrived an attachment to it now that I'm interested in it. She wants to know what it's worth, I'm trying to lowball her, a few hundred dollars I tell her, depends on the year, it needs a paint job, some body work...
I wake up and my big toe is throbbing.
**Odd dream. Cheery, hopeful in tone. Apart from the characters, however, there's no grounding whatsoever in reality. None. Not a bit. Not in the fireplace, the children, the possibility that I'll be buying an E-Type Jaguar even for $2.00. Absolutely none.**
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- Category: Dreams
I'm in a room speaking to an older woman, her husband designed the 1949 Silver Canadian Dime. It looks just like the regular dime, but the queen's head is split into half, the one half the same formal representation on every dime, the other half is a sort of Matisse - styled abstraction, a bit like the figure on the French Centime...I'm impressed, I don't know why, this isn't something that would ordinarily impress me, I ask her how many were minted but she postpones my questions for her husband, I look around her house, it's nice, darker, furnished with fine antiques and paintings, she gives me a dime to keep....
And now I'm escaping from someone, don't know or remember who, I duck into a church, the 7th Day Adventists...It's like a church basement, no chairs, people sitting in the middle of the floor, too brightly lit....
Richard Pryor is there, he's naked and conducting a sort of Bingo, everyone's got some sort of scratch card with a bunch of different playing cards depicted on them, he's calling numbers and they scratch off the corresponding card...I decide to play to pass the time while hiding out....
He turns around, and while I shouldn't look I can't help but notice how hairy his ass is, really, a beard that grows down between his legs and balls, but nobody seems to mind...
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- Category: Dreams
I've had a wealth of strange dreams lately. I put it down to stress. And while I won't write these down in their entirety, here is a brief sampling.....
There's a Chinese boy, maybe 7, he's over in America on a scholarship, hiding in a now defunct radio telescope array, I see him, his family, shadows flitting about the unused equipment, he's a prodigy, there are other people living down here, some are more legal than others, and his story is that he was a prodigy, brought over when NASA was still thriving, now, with NASA defunct, they're living here....
Or I'm on my way to see a play, Orpheus and Euridyce's at the Grand, and I've caught a bus in from out of town...It drops me off in an old neighborhood not far from the theater, I think, and so I begin to make my way towards the play....I pass somewhere I used to live, counting the street numbers, it's getting later and later and I realize that I'm not going to make the play....
There's a building and I'm inside, it's a poetry reading, famous local lawyer is reading, he's tall, thin, good looking with shock of dark hair, those fashionable thick dark rimmed glasses and a peculiar overbite that sees his top row of teeth extend an inch above his bottom. He's a lawyer but he'd really rather be a poet, the lawyer business is just something he does to pass the time... I've somehow volunteered with this play, and so go along with a coterie of volunteers to the theatre to see a pre-screening. It's in his law offices, there's a stage below and 1 floor up, perched precariously on the edge without room to move are the seats...I get vertigo finding mine, looking down at the stage, feels as if one could fall at any moment, and there's no guardrail to protect you.
It's a modern dance number, the dream passes, we help the dancers with their blocking, the view from above looks through a cross-shaped cut in the floor. He tells my my role as volunteer, I'm to hold up a sign on the Whitemud freeway in Edmonton that tells traffic how to get here....
I think this is absolutely useless, I've missed my play, Orpheus and Eurydice, but he's very persuasive and charming, and now begins to tell me about how the law firm he works for has hidden a cashbox full of money in a corner of the law office, buried right in the concrete, and maybe there's room for a bright young man such as myself to be his intern, we could split the proceeds....
I'm living somewhere north of Texas with a woman and her child...my daughter is there, we're only 3 hours from the Gulf of Mexico, the ex swings by to tell me it's OK, she doesn't mind living here, it's strange, the house is dark, like a woodsy log-cabin, something isn't right and I keep thinking that the Gulf of Mexico is only 3 hours from here....
***
All in all a strange assortment, a rather unbroken streak of half-remembered, disquieting dreams...
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- Category: Dreams