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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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I'm on my way to a garage sale in Nelson-not-Nelson. It's Nelson, but it's somewhere else, I'm not sure, a combination of Hampstead & Portabello Road in London, every grown in-attractive neighborhood I've ever visited...
The garage sale, I'd followed the sign and parked, but I'd already been to this one, it's been picked over, still, rummage again through a few bins, find a few trifling finds...
Outside, there's a brick wall beside a sidewalk with vendors set up. I go over, look above, see the glitter of Mica, begin to dig and...
...uncover a vein of mica schist, silver and glittery, and falling out of it are these chunky Herkimer diamonds, big double-terminated quartz crystals, I fill my arms...
Now I'm looking for my jeep, only it seems to have disappeared and I can't remember where I parked it, up side streets - there's old cars stuffed in overgrown balconies, not my jeep, and I'm looking and looking...
Back to the garage sale, through the house, there's an exit on the other side, only they've closed it and I've got to find my way around...
Finding my way, finding my way, someone is digging in the vein that I exposed, the jeep, it isn't there, must have been towed goddamn-it, but there's the vein of mica to be dug, right in town, and I can't wait to get back and dig it all up...
(weird dreams. And there was another, something about bottled water and Jeff Bezos, but - thankfully, I forget...)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1302
I'm in Edmonton, working a weekend shift at the old Italian Restaurant - the one I used to work at in Calgary.
Weird, but I'm calling old friends to tell them that I'm here, I've made it back over the mountains...
Anyways, it's Halloween here and you know, you look outside and everywhere there's someone in costume. Over the top costumes, the street is filled with them, a 6-Man dinosaur costume, Maids, Alice in Wonderland, Cap'n Sparrow, everywhere, the level of detail is amazing, everyone - they're pent up from these years of Pandemic...
And I'm waiting for the train and the revelries, they've gone on too long, there's an elevated hospital bed with a bunch of men surrounding it, can't see exactly what they're doing, they're "treating" the partiers that have passed out and fallen down, too drunk, there's one guy, passed out on the bed, and they've got him undressed, are pressing on his belly, a giant shit begins to push out of him, and I'm thinking that this belongs on reddit, and someone is jacking him off at the same time and I've a dark feeling that it's time to get out of here, it's turning into "The Purge"...
(fucked-up dreams, too hot, can't sleep beneath the covers)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1194
After a night of unsettled dreams, the last and only one that I remembered...
I've just graduated. I don't know from what, or for what, but I put out a call for cash in lieu of gifts...
Who should show but good old uncles Flim and (Flam?). Both bespectacled, comfortable middle aged men, perfectly bland, you've seen a thousand like 'em. You'd never recognize them on the street. I didn't. But they're reaching through the windows of a classic luxury car, Rolls-Royce or some-such, and handing me big manila envelopes filled with cash, dense, like bricks, and I know there's millions in each, and they're like "take them, congratulations..." and I know I've made it...
...the uncles, they don't exist, and I first interpreted Uncle Flim as being a dream-anagram of Uncle Film...but Uncle Flam then joined him in the names, a natural they'd say...
Today, off prospecting, bought my ticket in Wyndel, site of the logging accident a couple of years ago that nearly killed me, but it had "Wyn" in the name, and I like "Dell", I have an aunt by the same name turning 100, so...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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At a party, of sorts, a few people I know, mostly ex's that I haven't seen forever.
Talking to them and everything seems to be forgiven.
There's a stair running down a wall, and there's a large, dark haired woman wearing a close fitting velvet mask over her face - covering it entirely, except for the eyes and mouth, even the lips are covered in velvet...
She's here for Ken, about their child, and she reminds me of Angelica Huston, or Elvira, those oversized beauties, and I'm laughing at Ken, I didn't know he had a daughter, how did this happen? And Ken's beneath her on the stairwell, talking earnestly to her, and then I hear on the radio about Shag Harbour, and how abuse of seniors is common with orderlies, and I'm laughing at Ken and Angelica/Elvira is nodding earnestly at me as if I've figured it out....
***
Now I'm talking to these ex's, and I get the feeling somehow that I'm to reconnect with one of them - there's one, she's beautiful, so-and-so but not so and so, she's not as I remembered her, not at all, and she's aged, like me, only not so much, matured, covered in freckles that have grown together, beautiful by no conventional measure but I find her so nonetheless, and we're talking about pleasant things and I invite her for coffee, it's been so long, just coffee...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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***(Yesterday, let off from work early, bonus day off today and so had a short nap to peculiar affect...)
I'm at work, looking into the men's room - the door is open, and there seem to be a bunch of homeless people in it - one, a short, shirtless bearded guy giving me scowls, others, they're using it to store their stuff, grabbing and stashing their possessions under the sink...
A couple of girls come out of the bathroom, green short-sleeved blouses, big black scarves, and they're talking to one another, working behind the bar, and I understand that the owner's son has hired them and will train them tonight...
Peculiar they were in the men's room, but I shrug it off, I'm off early and I'm thrilled.
Off, and I take a nap, and wake up - in the bar, the same, but not the same at all.. Old wood paneling, cupboards everywhere, like in a mall or arcade, close and claustrophobic, ...there's a regular at the bar, I don't know him, never met him, he's had a couple of drinks, a meal, I can't find his bill - on his seat another waitress - Brie (??) has his bill mixed up with her table, I can't figure out what stuff is his, and he keeps talking to me..
Exploring the bar, old wood paneling, cupboards, walls, curios everywhere, there's an old gold lighter that when you snap it open expands, a little jewel, I want to know who's it is, want it, someone says it belongs to Mildred (Who's Mildred?), and I'm trying to get the regular his bill, trying to sort it out, there's a guy with half his face all fallen in, distorted, disfigured, and he's telling me how fucked up the new computer system we have is, he owns a bar, it's the same for him, and he turns and gets up like a Picasso, melting away like a bad acid trip, he's completely out there...
The regular, he's showing me some loft beds behind the bar, climbing into the upper bunk, a fine place to crash if you've had one too many...
And this bar, it's so far from anyplace I've known or seen and then I realize that I took a nap after work and so I'm dreaming and that explains it...
The regular tells me, no, I'm not dreaming, I'm dead, I've crossed over, and it all makes fucking sense now and I think I've got to tell someone, my children, let them know, and then sit down, having just figured out that there is no communication from here, I'm dead...
And I'm taking comfort in the fact that all this, the whacked out bar and people, they are all somehow extensions of myself and if only I can get my thoughts in order things will start to improve and make sense...
***(A completely whacked out dream-within-a-dream, filled with people and places I don't know. Vivid. Blech.)