- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1551
I'm in a white room with Ari & her boyfriend, it's a hotel, he's sitting on the bed, looking away, not talking. The lights, they're too bright, there's no décor, just bright lights, Ari, she's wearing a black bustier, there's another one on the floor, she's trying to talk to me earnestly but I don't understand a word she's saying...
Now, outside, I'm in Revelstoke, not Revelstoke, it's a snowy night and I'm out walking in the snow by a long high building...
I go inside, upstairs, it's a Biere-Hause of sorts, Austrian, there are tons of people, busy, and I find myself in the Kitchen - where I meet Rossi from the old restaurant, I didn't know he was back, it's good to see him. Hugs, he's telling me he's just back for the season and I'm trying to think of a way to get him to stay until summer, the place is busy, busy, crazy busy...
I leave, a long walk through a bleak and snowy landscape and I'm trying to find the too-bright hotel room again, walking, I'm in Revelstoke not Revelstoke, it appears a bit like the strip of 9th Ave in Calgary that runs alongside the railway, it's a spiritual desert, a winter wasteland here...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1565
I'm underground, the Toronto Subway, I run into someone I know standing outside the turnstiles. We talk, he tells me he's working, I can too, just standing there, people coming and going. And I'm wondering why we don't have uniforms, jackets like the other transit security people, and he's reassuring me, the uniforms are coming, we're both pretty shabbily dressed. Off in distance I see someone, older man, reminds me of Sammi from the old restaurant, Tunisian motherfucker who stole my daughter's vacation allowance, it's not him, but somehow reminds me of him, this older fellow, he has an accent I recognize, and a quiet dignity that Sammi never had...
I get bored with this standing by the turnstiles and go through, into a shop on the other side, I've got a pocket full of lottery and sweepstakes tickets I need to check. And the shop owner, a little East Indian woman with a part of the shop separated off with cardboard boxes, a half-living space, she's telling me that I can only check the one on this machine, and now I'm crawling around amidst all these other lottery machines that look like old pinball games, bright vintage and foreign motifs, trying to find the laser to check them all, there's hundreds in here, I'm not even sure that all the tickets have been drawn...
She - the shop owner - speaks with somebody that's just come in, middle aged, shirt open, unbuttoned, he's got a plastic fork stuck in his fleshy orange nipple. He walks outside, I follow him, he's talking to me while looking straight ahead..."That was real good", and I know what he's talking about, I've never tried it, too dangerous, addictive, but clearly it's done wonders if he can't feel that fork in his nipple...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1105
2 Foreigners have come to visit, giants, huge beards, covered in runic tattoos. Norse, maybe, or Quebecois, they've thick, unidentifiable accents, and they have 4 small pets between them, and they are wrapped up for the children (not mine), one bends down and pulls off the wrapping. The two in the center, yappy cute puppies of the breeds favoured by old ladies. The one on the left, a tortoise, and it's head comes out of it's shell, poised upon a long neck it catches me with it's eye, a smart, intelligent eye.
And, finally, the last one on the right is unwrapped, it's some sort of giant flattened rat, I have no clue what it is, and I'm returning from this meadow back to the house, home, but not my house, the kids have gone off to play with the animals, parents, my father, people, this house like a stage with sets that roll in and out...
***
My dreams lately, anxiety dreams, waiters nightmares, tables coming in, new job, being lost and utterly confused, not knowing what it is I'm to be doing...this is the first one worth writing down, and it isn't much, but resuming the habit will probably breed more interesting dreams.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1490
I'm in an old prison, high ceilings, stone, lights hanging down. It's a big cell.
The warden has thrown me a party, invited all my friends, he's sympathetic, knows I'm innocent, knows I shouldn't be here.
How long have I been here? I don't know...4, 5 days?
These friends, there's no one here that I know or recognize, and I'm asking the warden about an old friend - I know he's here, Milan from Edmonton, and the warden, he does some checking, shakes his head sadly, and I realize that he's probably in an Edmonton cell.
Meanwhile, I recognize Milan's daughter, young 20-something blonde, his wife, 40ish Czech, and his daughter's boyfriend, wearing a dog mask, under a table, eating food from a dog dish...
And I say to his wife "my...your daughter's boyfriend looks just like Milan..."...I've spotted the cheekbones, jaw, poking from under the mask...
She delights in this and maliciously tells the daughter, who begins kicking at me with her stilettos and shrieking that he looks nothing like her father...
The parties over, everyone has left, the warden is locking my cell, he tells me he will bring a menu for tomorrow night's dinner, and I'm surprised, I remember nothing of the past few days, and - I get a menu?
**Milan, to the best of my knowledge, doesn't have a wife. Or a daughter.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1050
Lots of dreams lately, few recorded.
This one: I'm in a swim tank, big, filled with water (?!!), and I'm looking to swim out. There's a ladder, it leads upward, and I follow it along and upwards, there's a ceiling to the tank and I'm expecting to go through the portal and arrive in some air....
...only it only leads into another swim tank, no air, and I keep climbing the ladder....
up, and up, portal after portal, always the same, swim tank feeding into swim tank...never any air...