- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2408
A beautiful dancing brunette, full figured, a Chai symbol blazing, burning upon her breast (or perhaps a He, or Heth, or Taw), I know she's Jewish, she's stunning...
The dance is short lived, she steps into a pile of gravel in the children's playground and sinks beneath it with her partner - male, I haven't seen him, but I know he's there...
These dunes of gravel on the playground, I know they're filled with the dead, waiting to reach up and pull us under, and so I wait upon the edge to warn my children and family, I find this terrifying, I know they're all beneath the dunes and waiting...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2180
Evening, we're watching across the lake, the western shore, between two cliffs a pasture, a rick of grass from beneath which are crawling dozens of turtles to the water. There's a stable against the left, or south cliff, in which a couple of peacocks are watching, the light is everywhere a uniform deep blue, beneath the south cliff I can see a faint light issuing from an underwater cave, and I want to swim beneath the water and explore, it's unseasonably warm here for this time of year...
Now a dolphin, swimming in the lake, playful, intelligent, rising out of the water on it's tail to chatter at us, swimming closer to play,...
...and L**** is explaining to me that the dolphin will die, it can't survive here, her mother is a marine biologist and she would know, besides, there was an earlier one and it died as well, and she explains there's a well intended young hippie girl across the lake that brings them back from the coast, but she doesn't understand they won't live...
We take the dolphin, heavy like a large dog, putting it L****'s jeep set out to release it at the coast, I hold it in my arms...we have to stop at gas stations and restaurants to feed it (canned tuna), keep it wet, eventually come to a village built upon a swath of river gravels in a deep valley, the river deep blue and raging against dark brown gravel dunes, and I'm wondering if they've been prospected, they're promising....a man in the village tells us of the last dolphin, he saw it die, it wasn't pleasant, I consider releasing it into the river here in the hopes it can swim to the ocean, but realize it won't make it, the river's too swift, raging, there will be hydroelectric plants and dams, it hasn't a chance, and I realize that it's Christmas day and I'm already 7 hours away from spending time with my son and daughter, am angry at L**** for dragging me along on this, at the dumb hippie that caught it, we can take the dolphin back to the lake and release it there until I have more time to properly rescue it, L**** is upset, she wants to rescue it now, but I'm being entirely remiss in my duties as a parent and so she reluctantly agrees to return it to the lake...
(Xmas in Edmonton, remarkably vivid dreams and comfortable sleep on air mattress. Only remembered this one...)
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2554
I'm in Slave Lake, I think, winter, and I've just slid down a muddy embankment, frozen pools of water in little muddy hollows, there's a woman and a child and the child is clinging to me, he wants a father. I don't know them. He wants to go tobogganing here, and I'm a bit skeptical with the mud and all, but it's the best he's going to do and the woman is talking to me about how he needs a father and I've the uncomfortable feeling she's talking to me on another level...
It begins to rain, sudden, extremely localized cloudburst, the rain is coming down in torrents and I'm soaked, I look up to the sky, only a few small clouds but it managed to hit us good, the rain as suddenly stops and from the tiny cloud tendrils and fingers come down, hundreds of waterspouts upon the lake, I have to film this I think, and pulling my cellphone out try to record it...
...but I've hit the wrong app, not the camera, and my smartphone has been transformed into a thick, plastic handheld slot machine, I'm trying to find the button to make it change back, the waterspouts are disappearing, pushing the buttons, someone tells me I need to make it pay out first, it can't transform until I shake out all the jackpots and things inside, and so I'm shaking it and there are washers and bits of plastic, garbage coming out, it's finally empty and changes back into a phone, it's too late, the waterspouts are all gone, just a few wisps in the sky...
***
Now I'm supposed to be moving in with N, and I don't know what's become of us, her, haven't even seen her, only know that I'm moving in, moving all my stuff into a house that's set back from the street just past a jag that keeps it hidden, like a quick right-left on the street, the first house hides the second...and on the other side of the street there's a desk in the middle of a vacant lot, and for some reason I'm using this desk, have all my immediate supplies set up there, there's a party that evening with fireworks and everything...I've gotten most of my stuff moved in but still haven't come across N...
The jag in the street, the hidden house, my family was supposed to be helping me with this, but I'm worried they won't find the house...
...so there's been time passing and I've returned to the desk to gather the last of my things, my bag, my notes, but there's nothing there...I'm panicked at the thought that it's vanished, some kids are watching and I ask them where my stuff is and they gesture towards a nearby garage...going through it I enter a house, warmly lit and curiously furnished, artistic, a jagged hall leads past a common living-room, there are bedrooms off the hall, it's tenanted by musicians and artists, I'm looking for my stuff, recognize the girl with the child from the frozen muddy embankment, she greets me, working my way to the back of the house I find a short (Musician?), recognize my things, go to take them and he tells me no, it's his stuff too, and one of the curios, a small black misshapen dwarf-man with a beaded nametag (?) reading Haiti or Trinidad or Tobago or some such, in the vein of jaunty tasteless tropical souvenirs, attacks me ... runs like a little dog and beats me up and I'm puzzled, to retaliate, given his size and lack of consequence, make it ridiculous, beneath me, he's done, and goes to sleep contented upon a shelf ... this place is a circus, freak-show, I'll return later when the guy has sorted his stuff from mine, I'm not happy with this, I'm violently inclined, but I'll return...
***
Moving into N's house, everything there, and I still haven't run into her, across the street again to recover my stuff, comfortable house, now the musician in his room is a little more friendly, he's sorted everything out and going through it I find more than I expected, a little purse full of exotic coins, I recognize them but they're not mine I don't think (and he's indifferent, they're not his either...), other curios from the locker, little brass statues of the Indian Gods, I gather my things, make a small inventory and prepare to leave...there's a tall blonde girl at the kitchen table talking about "Soul Capital", and I remember her ad, she was looking for conversation on the topic, she's putting a show on and needs an hours worth of material, she corners me to talk about it; now, sitting with her back to us is little G, an ex, and while I recognized her chose not to notice her, now she's noticed me and demands that I provide the house with a couple of cases of beer, the least I could do for their efforts, and I apologize but I'm a little broke right now, get paid Monday, and she counters with "Is it any wonder I broke up with you", nonetheless she prepares to leave, getting her coat, and I'm a little confused, she wasn't invited, she's presuming, and now, finally, N has come and is at my elbow, I can hear and smell her, she's come over to help me back with my stuff, ...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2189
I'm with the boy, upstairs in a giant space, house perhaps, a party. There's a painting on a wall and as I walk forward to it it animates and changes itself, like one of those postcards that flip between images when you tip them, only this painting is changing into many different things at once, every step forward bursts of colors grow and change...
I'm trying to show the boy, only he isn't seeing it, but he's very understanding, and when I take the final step towards the painting it breaks up, is no longer a painting, is instead a vase, a plant, a lamp...
"Flashbacks" I realize, and I'm intrigued, I'd heard, read, that they were a myth, but there's some novelty to this and I intend to enjoy them...
We're wandering through the top of the house, he meets some familiar acquaintance whom I recognize but don't know, his wife, I introduce the son and the man tells me "I know", the boy explains that he had dated his mother when he was young...
We're looking for a pub, walking over catwalks, looking into familiar old schoolyards, memories of forgotten dreams now remembered again and pasted together like a collage of imaginary landscapes, everywhere is familiar, but the arrangement is not, somewhere there's a pub...
I find a bathroom, looking at the toilet seat it's covered in holographic decals, I call in the boy to show him, they're not flashbacks, he merely appears, looks, gently pulls a couple of pieces of toilet paper and covers them up, he's gently patronizing me, not getting it and I still must be having flashbacks...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2131
We're drawn into the room by the sight of eagles and seagulls trying to get into a birdhouse near the roof. It's a large room, painted blue like the sky, and the ceiling is perhaps 50 or 100 feet away. Staggered at different levels are all sorts of various apparatus, people working them, it's like a hands on science-museum of sorts, I'm guessing the people are somehow controlling the birds, and as I'm watching them flying everywhere about the room (surprisingly few collisions) one hits my elbow - ouch! - they have some weight, wooden, and a small bird, painted to resemble a hummingbird, comes and tugs at my sleeve, it has something to show me. And I begin to climb the various levels of the room, we'll get to the top and investigate things on the way down, but there aren't always stairs, or I've missed them, and as I'm standing on a short stool grabbing another stool to pull myself up a level the stool I'm grabbing onto begins to slide, I realize the bird has let go my sleeve and I've missed the easy stairs up, I get down to try again...