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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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I dreamed I had set out, late at night, in London-not-London, to find a shop and buy some cigarettes.
Walking under a wooden bridge, overpass, when a car going overhead collapses the bridge, it falls upon me, rotting wood and timbers, I am unscathed.
And keeping walking until I get to the High Street where I see a light in a pub, or what I think to be a pub, and going inside find that it's some sort of party venue, people are "skating" in an marble oval, slipping on the floor in stocking-clad feet, there's a man (??) urging or singing to them, like the old roller-rinks but with socks and feet on bare floor...
I'm looking for cigarettes, no luck here, although I try to take some pictures with my phone, the space is fantastic, but too cramped to take it all in and I give up trying...
I'm followed out of the rink by a petite Asian woman. She wants to walk with me, and I see no harm, but once outside she stops and begins to threaten me, if I don't (??) she'll call for help, claim I beat her, and who would they believe?
Another bridge, I am underneath it again, collapsing, and then another and I am in a Subway or Metro somewhere in France, "Leavenworth station" I remember, and it's collapsing as well, and the floor, a mosaic tile in the Roman Style - same as on the floor in the previous collapsing overpass/bridge/metro/, somehow the two are connected, the mosaic, it depicts a couple - the missus and master of the house, I recognize them (???) ...
I wake from the dream, strange images and feelings - and immediately go to write it down...
And awake again from the dream to discover I've written nothing down at all and so try to recall it again...
(Strange dream, poorly recalled, the key feature was that I was beneath 3 collapsing bridges, and somehow survived every one...No doubt related to my leaving work.)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1246
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
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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: 1184
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...