dreams...
I'm in London not London, the abundant tubes leading out of the city, travelling around but I'm not recognizing any of it, none of it at all, it's not as I remembered...
I find a large vacant lot, much of it torn up by excavators, half of an old building still standing, it reminds me curiously of the new condo developments near the Hillhurst Community Center...
...Anyways, I have permission to be here, going in amongst the big piles of dirt being excavated I can see the giant ends of old books buried in the mud, I climb the hill and begin to pull out the books, I'm free to salvage what I can...
...the first find, giant, old pages, 200 pages at least, and I pull it from the muck and read the words and I'm thinking it's by Salman Rushdie, that can't be, this is far older than him, some odes to Satan or some such, not time to read, work is off for today but they're not stopping for me...I take it down the hill to a table I've set up, there's a cute blonde there and I'm showing her what I've found, I don't know her but she's agreeable and interested...
...Back up, into the muddy hillside, pulling out more books....and then I'm inside the tenement building, what hasn't yet been torn down, there's books here as well, odds and endments, some CD's, games I recognize from my previous life and I'm annoyed they've been left here, bits of me I'd forgotten about, there's an old book, about (???), and another, I'm pulling it apart, handwritten, a curiosity, scrapbook of somebodies life, handwritten and illustrated with artworks, and around every letter written in the book there's a picture or a story written, there are decoupage and paintings and other trifles of the authors life (a she, I'm presuming), I'm trying to date it, guess when she lived and wrote it, I'm convinced it's valuable, priceless, but I'm in a hurry, I resolve merely to gather it beneath the covers of another old book, I can discover it later, there's an antique typewriter, with a large brass screen above an ugly 50's keyboard and the logo "Royale" written in Gold letters, unplugging the typewriter (and someone is telling me there's a sheet of paper inside, between the brass screens, I don't check it, there's no time) I see the light fading beautifully behind the "Royale" logo, from between the screens where the sheet of paper is, I can do something with this, I will take it with me, to an airport with the books and ship them back to Canada before I go to Europe...
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- Category: Dreams
I'm in a park, well treed, there are tables everywhere with my things on them...maybe my things, not sure, maybe it's a flea market...
My children are here, somewhere, I don't know exactly, they're younger, off playing...
Walking off to a short hill the weather begins to change, dark clouds, a grey funnel reaches down above me and opens it's mouth like a sandworm, and up in it's maw I can see the clouds lightening to white, fluffy, and I'm drawn inside...
...Sitting now, in the clouds, I'm with Eve, not my daughter, but Eve of Adam and Eve, a fiery, beautiful redhead, forever young, she's speaking to me about some petitions I've made, both her and Adam, they are the rulers of the universe, and I'm worried a bit about my children as we're talking then I realize that here, in the clouds with her, time has no meaning...
...we talk, about my petition (which I can't remember), I'm asking about her husband, Adam, commiserating, they can never be together, she rules the sky at night and he the day, and never can they meet, and this saddens me but I realize that time, to them, is but an instant, and come the end of the universe they can be together and then realize again that the universe is without end...
She places me back in the park from where I was taken, walks with me a bit, I run into my children, only now they're younger, some of the stuff on the tables I recognize to be mine, I introduce her to Eve, my daughter, but she's not so impressed, and I find that not only has no time passed but I'm years earlier than when I was taken, I didn't want this, I wanted to change some things, but at this time I'm with D**, the most dreaded of all ex's, and I entreat Eve yet again to return me to the present, she tells me that everything will be all right, this is my chance to try again, and she leaves and I know I was fortunate to have this audience with her, that I might never again ...
...and upon the tables, vendors, selling curious busts in bronze, puzzle boxes filled with secrets if only you can put them back together, ...
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- Category: Dreams
Since my dreams are erratic and occasionally nonsensical I thought I'd put you onto someone elses dreams...Dion McGregor, a Somniloquist Extraordinaire whose dreams were recorded by bemused flatmates and made into records.
Not my dreams, by a long shot, but nonetheless amusing and intriguing...
Make sure you listen to at least one...
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- Category: Dreams
I'm somehow in London-not-London, a different variation of dream London, when I run into N*** & N****, I didn't know they were back here, living in Kensington, and I go back to their place for a drink...leaving, I'm off to do something ... (???), night-time and I'm trying to find my way back, I have to grab my car and continue upon my travels, I can recognize the neighborhood-ish, but everything isn't where it should be...I ask an old lady for directions, a large man, taller than the crowd and stooped at the shoulders bumps into her rudely, she merely greets him with a "Hi Tom..." and confides in me "Everyone around here knows him..."...she directs me, I'm merely a couple of blocks from finding my way...
...And walking I bump into A***** from work, we're walking together and we see, in the middle of the road, flapping their wings, two pigeons, flying, hovering in mid-air, each is dressed in a patterned peach colored vest and driver's cap, the one on top is trying to mount or undress the one beneath and I'm amazed, I point it out to A***** and he just dismisses it, "They're Prietes" he says, and hurries along....me, I'm trying to take a picture with my phone, the pigeons begin to fly away and scuffle, through my phone though, I see not pigeons but flying combating martial artists, an Asian woman and a man, and I'm taking pictures, taking pictures, A*****, whatever enchantment they're under isn't fooling the phone, A***** won't believe this when I show him, ...
...When she runs into me, the Asian girl, tall, beautiful, she's transformed from being a pigeon and we're both lying in a restaurant panting from where she flew into me, I see A***** getting a table with N*** and the restaurant, it's big, we get up to go and find them, she can explain everything later...
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- Category: Dreams