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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 890
Im in London-not-London staying with an old friend A***, a visit. And I've made my way out and about, somewhere on the King's road, walking down it towards my favorite thrift shop, I'm seldom here and want to check it out...
Across the street there's a brick wall, the side of a parkade, maybe 10 stories high, buckling and rippling and shaking, and I'm thinking there must be some construction, maybe a demolition, and I take out my phone to take a picture, only, just like the last dream, it won't let me, is prompting me with a graphic to buy an app, I need something more...
...Other people have stopped to watch as well, a portion of the middle of the wall falls away and I can see inside it's an operating theatre, there's surgeons in scrubs running everywhere, doctors, patient on tables, it wasn't a parkade after all, and it certainly wasn't planned, and I can't snap a photo, the vivid white lights, blue figures in the operating room juxtaposed against the quivering brick wall...
I'm annoyed but continue on, find my thrift shop, it's afternoon, I know everyone that works there, there's S***** from the ferry, big lady, and she's reading all these notebooks and I can see that their from my friend Batshit, must be a drop-off for me, only she's not giving them up until she's done reading them all she tells me and I'm hoping he didn't write anything unkind about her....
The rest of the staff, I know them as well, a pastiche of familiar thrift shop faces, familiar staff, and we chat, and I check out the display cases, nothing, want to go upstairs and explore in a couple of the other rooms only they give me to understand they're not open yet and I should just wait until they're ready and shut up, and so I sit down for a bit and wait and then, after they've opened explore that room, the main room, nothing, and head outside ...
Around the corner, at a bench, with the Batsh*t notebooks, sitting down and having a cigarette, I turn over a flyer, on it is the same graphic that was interrupting me when I was trying to take a photo. An older lady approaches...she's a few notebooks under her arm, on top a big picture of clowns, she's a psychiatrist or case-worker or something and she's checking up on me, sits with me, asks me how things are and she wants me to fill in the clown faces, color them, for my file, and I can recognize in her notebooks my handwriting, only I don't ever remember having a case worker or psychiatrist, and I certainly don't know her, why do I need help? And how did she get my handwriting anyways?....
...she's talking to me, jocular, knowingly, kindly, asking me if I'm "off the sauce", I don't know her and I'm saying that I've been generally off for a while and I can tell she doesn't believe me, she's telling me I look more jaundiced than healthy, that's why she asked, and then she leaves to go and...
...while she's gone I remember that I didn't go into the basement in that thrift shop, and that's where all the best stuff is, and then I begin thinking that I don't know my way home from here, don't know how to get to A***'s where I'm staying, and I'm confused...
****
Strange. Stuff percolating through, my unconscious is trying to get my attention about a few things for sure...the cameras not working, the places not the places, abundance of ex's, I might have to look these up, figure 'em out...Weird.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 915
I'm in Nelson-Not-Nelson with N***, not Nelson in that it's somewhere outside Nelson, maybe Proctor or Harrup, only it's Nelson. And it's not in BC, it's a lot closer to Calgary, closer to Cochrane where N*** lived, only in a different direction, close around Calgary, anyways...
...we're walking down Baker Street, it's a beautiful late summer or fall evening, popping into shops, when we notice a parade of costumes coming down the street, Halloween costumes, and I'm wondering what's up, it's not Halloween yet, and I turn to ask somebody on a corner beside me what's going on when I see that he's wearing a too-small kid's Halloween costume as well, a skeleton or something, and I remember they do this here at the end of every month...
The parade, it's so charming, everyone all dressed up, and I dart into the street to take some pictures, only every time I go to snap a photo I get on my phone a message telling me that I can't, prompting me, warning me instead to download the video instead from the internet, only it's showing me Disney videos, silly animations, and telling me that I'm violating their copyright, although my photos are nothing like their videos...
She's (N***'s) telling me how much she likes this town, and I tell her, of course, that's why I live here, it's a beautiful, cool place, and she could have lived here too, it's not so far away from Calgary, from where she lives...
She gives me a ride home, an old apartment building, we go inside, climb up the stairs to the top floor, outside my door there's a heap of brand new white sneakers, piles, all sizes, and all the neighbors are there watching me, they donated them for me, sort of a welcome-to-the building present, and I thank them, there's got to be a dozen or two dozen pairs easy, and one of the neighbors ask if I'm going to use them all and I tell her no, help herself...
Into the apartment, old apartment, all my stuff is in the hall, and N*** is helping me unpack, bring stuff inside, I got boxes full of clothes, neckties, after the first load I get back into the hall and almost all of the sneakers have disappeared, the neighbor that asked, she took them all, and I'm a bit annoyed as I wouldn't have minded a few pairs to give away, and a good friend is there (*?? Who?) saying "you wouldn't have worn donated sneakers anyways.....".
I go outside to get some more clothes, belongings, at the door there's a bag of sugar, overturned, a bit of it spilled in the hall, and I'm annoyed, I look, see my son, much younger, and he apologizes and I berate him, he's done this before, I'm annoyed all out of proportion with the slightness of the misadventure, and he starts to bleed from his nose, don't know what happened, and I feel bad for berating him, but I've a right to be annoyed as well...
In the kitchen there are voices, N***, the neighbors, helping me unpack...
***
Note: Strange dream, longer than most, more complicated. After I wrote down I went back to bed and had a couple more - 1 with N***, the other - I think - without, but I didn't get up to write them down and so they're now forgotten.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 935
Most of my dreams have been boring, nonetheless here are 2 I had on consecutive nights.
The First: I'm in a dim but comfortably lit classroom at a university, windows look outside, it's night-time. There are about 20 of us, we're all spaced about 4 feet apart, digging holes in the floor, the earth is a beautiful reddish color. Maybe we're all students, I don't know. We all take a break, and leaving the classroom I notice a bunch of beautiful, golden-yellow antique bottles and inkwells on a table, I ask about them, and one of the students directs me towards a couple of the other students - their hole, it's a lot deeper than mine, and I'm wondering about it for a moment at first, I fancy myself pretty good at digging holes, but then I consider that there's 2 of them digging together, - still ...
...I want to ask them where they found the bottles, maybe they dug them out of their hole? But they've already left...
...I find an exit to outside, dark, across the main road there's a 24 hour convenience store, I go over to buy (???) but when I get there I've forgotten why I came, it's too bright in here, and I leave...
***
The Second: I'm driving into Alberta from Saskatchewan, central Alberta, and a few ghost towns in I decide to stop in an old town that had a field on the outskirts that I wanted to walk and look for artifacts in. Drive through the town, a few old buildings, turn off on a sidestreet and drive past the last house onto a range road, this is the field...
...through a large hedge, and then stop, there's a fissure or ravine in the earth on the edge, and looking into it I can see a brightly lit library, ancient columns and arches beneath the field, it's a ceiling of sorts to this subterranean labyrinth, and I stop with my friends (?? Who? Not sure) to snap some pictures, but taking pictures, aiming into the ground, I can't fit it all in, and just before we can descend into it we're surrounded by hordes of people, all coming to the library...
***
2 Dreams, similar themes...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 935
My daughter and I, we've somehow discovered another trail down in to the canyon, we're somewhere around Moab, or East Utah, maybe Arizona - and the trail runs through the red-rocks and balancing hoodoos and standard stark desert geography, only we found an entrance a little to the side, that descends following the trail above through Subterranean windings and blue shafts of light punctured through caves in the rocks above...in shades of blue you can see this great underground wilderness, water drips from above, cold and abundant, spring fed-pools, pale blue, and there are traces of arrowheads and ruins of old pueblos built underground...we didn't know this was here, it's a secret kept by the Rangers, and we continue...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 915
Driving out to an abandoned farmhouse with Bob Dylan, young Bob Dylan, and we're covering the car with brush, an old rust-colored Vega, he doesn't want to be found. We're going to hide out here for a few months...
...going up to the farmhouse, it's open, we go inside and there's an older woman in a bathrobe, maybe early 40's, the landlady, and I'm a little surprised, I thought we were breaking in, but he's made a deal to rent the place, she shows us around, it's dark inside, sparsely furnished with bad 70's furniture, Bob's disappeared and she lets drops her bathrobe, she's naked, full breasts and body, a golden plume of pubic hair, not my thing but she's beautiful and I reach out to touch her...
,,,she pushes my hand away, instead goes to a closet and gives me an old bullet-proof vest, she shows me the label inside "NYPD" it says, her ex-husband's, he used to be a cop...
Now, in the basement, there's a shop of sorts, we're milling aluminum bits of pipe to specific sizes, by 'we're" I mean me and a couple of other guys, not Bob, I can't see them, or see them only vaguely, there's calipers to check the size, there's shelves for every size of aluminum pipe and cube we've milled...
...we're done, it's early, I don't want to knock off early, but the guys behind me, they don't mind, and we go outside...
We're on a frozen lake, can see forever, walking, there's a couple of spots where the ice is melted, blood red water boiling up, a little sign marks the spot with a skull and crossbones, it's poisonous or something...
Walking, walking across the ice and it visibly grows thinner, wetter, and as I'm deciding not to walk on any further I fall through...
...the water, it's not as cold as it should be, I come back up, swim, then find the ground with my feet, struggle to shore, breaking the ice with my chest, when I'm on the shore I'm looking back, the other two are still out there, one of them, the taller one, he's fallen through the ice, in deeper water, but the shorter one is helping him, I don't need to go back and rescue them...
(A pattern to these dreams I'm noticing, there's some things that need addressing...)