- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 237
That I am at a hotel, resort, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. That someone I don't know has a child and she is off to some sort of bogus awards ceremony, there is another kid there as well...I don't know anyone here.
Someone brings me a diet coke, they must have shaken it because when I open it it fizzes and gets all over the carpet, more than was in the can, but I don't care...
I'm busy, making notes, I have a notepad but some of the pages have dark pictures & ink on them, my notes, they disappear into the ink, illegible, and then in places they are visible, writing into the darkness...
It doesn't matter. I'll make out what I was writing later.
I'm obsessed, I'm trying to remember a book I wanted to read, or maybe I had read a long time ago, a slim book, beautifully written, about two people. And I'm making notes of the title, I'd been unable to find it back then, but now, in the age of the internet, I should be able to find it, there would be no reason why I could not...only I can't remember the title and am trying to guess as to the plot, the events, and these notes are my attempts to recapture, remember it...I'm not having a lot of luck...
This resort in the middle of nowhere, mountains maybe, trees, it's getting dark outside.
It's time for the awards ceremony and I'm left with the child I don't know and so I concede, promise that we'll go as well, I'll be the good parent to this unknown waif, and we head outside to walk up to the building where it will be held.
South of us, great tornadoes are churning up the landscape, black funnels across a dark sky sweeping across the landscape...
Turning to watch I at first think it's a movie, then realize it's not, it's happening...
And turning back to the direction we're walking I see hundreds of tiny tornadoes, windstorms, whirlwinds making their way south through the rain, amongst us, beside the road, and as they get closer I see them briefly in color, they're the innumerable spirits of the dead, talking and walking, when they are close they faintly glimmer in color, I can see a Hawaiian Shirt, when they move away they again turn grey and disappear into the rain.
I'm filming this with my phone, incredulous...
Hastening up to the rest of the group to show them, ask breathlessly if they've seen what I have, the group now ignoring me, I turn and see to the side of the road an older kindly Mexican lady, she's sitting at a table, calling me over, only she can see me, and I understand but I'm not ready, I have to find that book...
(This dream woke me, disturbed me. It's exactly the dream I'd expect to have to prepare me for crossing over, and reminds me to get my affairs in order. The tornadoes, I'd spent the day watching F5 videos on YouTube - the storm warnings over Oklahoma, the Mexican Lady, perhaps from Malcolm Lowry's "Dark as the Grave wherein my Friend is Laid")
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 327
I'm in an old hotel (??), brick and mortar, big, down in the basement, and I'm with my daughter (young, toddler, under 5) and my father's on a buckboard, you know, old-styled horse drawn wagon, and he's going to be riding through and wants me to throw on my daughter...
She'll like this, and so sure enough he comes riding through and and I get her and a couple stuffed animals onto the seat, and then they're past me and I'm trying to catch up...
There's all sorts of things tripping me up, the hall's made narrow by an enamel wood burning stove, cupboards, and the wagon has knocked all the doors open and I'm wondering how it got through...
He'd driven it around the top of the hotel, the lobby, the beautiful light of the setting sun, summer, and I'm trying to snap a picture of him & the daughter on the wagon, golden hues against rich deep blues, the phone though, it's not working, can't seem to pull up my camera, and I'm trying to scrape off some duct-tape residue that must be interfering...
The daughter's coming towards me, herself now maybe 12 years old, and she's someone on her shoulders...
Outside, a beautiful garden, slivers of vanishing sunlight playing against the brick of the building, and again I'm trying to catch a photo, but this damned phone, camera...
And a Canada Goose flies right past me, into a deep green-blue hedge, and it changes there, into a silhouette of something else completely, something unreal, something formless that begins to sing...
(and I wake up, a beautiful dream and all attempts to get back to it fail...)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 297
I'm walking on the shore of Kootenay Lake with JR (the infamous son of the last restaurant I worked in...). It's a beautiful day, the sun is bright and trees hang their branches over the sandy shore. JR, he's finding these little grey paper wasp nest submerged in the lake, just beneath the surface, and he's telling me that sometimes wasps survive the freezing of the lake (?), and he's taking them out and gently hanging them from trees, and I'm wondering why?
I'm walking in the water, noticing strings of algae, when one begins to move, pulsate, and I recognize that it's some form of jellyfish, and there's another one, clearer, transparent, with tentacles like an octopus...
(Dreams lately restless and largely inexplicable)
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 371
A long night, fevered dreams, more selections of unrelated images; that I'm in Tunisia (and thinking "this is where they filmed Star Wars!") and I find under the sand a giant quartz reef, all quartz, deep, beneath the dunes, and digging it goes deeper and deeper and there has to be something here.... I must be living in Europe, because I'm grateful I've found this so close to home...
...or I'm finding a layer of fluorite/calcite under my house, it's fractured, shatters out easily, but what can I do with this (and to dig it up is to undermine my house...)
... or I'm with people, a party, maybe I know them, maybe I don't, emotional associations, "Auld Lang Syne"...
The night passes, I'm in sweats, fitful, restive, tossing and turning, too hot, too cold, fever, chills. I'm up at 9:00, I could sleep all day but I'm not getting better and there are things to be done.
The dreams, all bits, yet the overtones, undertones, create a story much bigger than the images they provide.
Which brings me to consider an old theory, that dreams, ideas, they live outside ourselves, our mind is but an antennae to tap into them, but - given my fevered state it's probably not the time to be giving this too much consideration, my thinker's a bit bedeviled at the moment...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 398
(restless night, up, down, many dreams of which I only remembered the last)
That I was in the bookstore - warm, ambient light, exchanging a big bag of books, in which there's a 2 volume set of ...
The clerk (no clerk of the bookstore that I'm aware of) a large, good-natured woman gives me my total - some $670 - and I'm taken aback by the amount of the credit, and she offers to pay me cash and I say "no, no, I'll take the credit..." because I read, I'll read that this winter, and then I reconsider, the cash would be handy, I have bills, only now she's come to my desk (across the bookstore) and she's apologizing, that two volume set is actually a couple of guns in holsters, and she's not able to take them, setting them on my desk - and I'm surprised, sure enough, 2 guns in their holsters and so I take them out, quickly tuck them in a drawer, they're unregistered, I have no permits...
...and as she's standing there apologizing a bunch of police force their way into my area, they're looking over my desk, and I understand that she must have called the police when she realized her error, she's looking a little like she's betrayed me; the police, all in black leotards with white masks that resemble fencing masks, they look like the AI renderings of police in the style of Gorey I just did, and they're there, looking at my desk, and I know I'm in trouble and wondering how this happened...