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A room in a field near a tornado
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1829
I'm lying in bed in a room, the room is in a field, somewhere south of Calgary. By the light I'd say it's autumn or spring. There are only 2 or three walls in this room, they are painted blue with clouds so that they disappear into the horizon, you know they're there by the furniture up against them, there is no ceiling, above is a long thin silver cloud, turning, I'm lying in bed watching.
The cloud turns and on the bottom I see a tornado, just forming, all filled with an unearthly blue light, spinning and growing, it's turning with the cloud, and I call to you so you can come and see, you're in an outhouse somewhere, perhaps a 100 paces from the room, but the cloud turns so that the tornado has disappeared by the time you come.
Maybe it will come again.
So we wait, in bed, and the cloud turns some more, like the wheel of a bike, until finally the tornado appears again, it's beautiful, and somehow the tornado touches down near us, the far end of the room against the cloud painted wall, we watch, and from it appears a beautiful girl, dark hair, eyes, she has been possessed, she's confused, frightened, up against the wall, you approach her, you know her, "It's all right" you tell her, and she comes to her senses.
Dreams Revealed
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1806
There are many books written upon the symbolism of dreams, how-to books that attempt to interpret for you what your dream meant.
Their value, however, depends on how much you are a product of the society that prints them. While there are unquestionably archtypes, everyone has somewhere their own mythology, and unless you have read and reread those dictionaries you are liable to find many of your dreams don't fall within their pat categories and conventions. Should you find they are, question how indoctrinated you've become, that your dreams so closely resemble everyone elses...
If you've written your dream down quickly after waking you will often find that it's interpretation becomes clear. The relationships, the problems, the events will explain themselves. Leaving it, however, and brooding upon it leaves it open to the reworkings of memory, and memory will often reshape and rebuild the dream each time you return to it; eventually your memory of the dream bearing no resemblance to the dream you actually had...think of it as a mental game of "Chinese Whispers". And this will make it's interpretation difficult.
House filled with Noise
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2356
It's an old house, and it's filled with noise long after the workmen have left. The fridge and furnace intermittently kick in and out, there's the sound of magpies and crows on the roof as they hide their treasures and try to crack their nuts. A slow leaking faucet drips-drips-drips, and there are throaty gurgles as the drains all at once decide to swallow. Squirrels rattle in the drainpipes. There are other noises from the kitchen, sounds of objects being dropped or falling, but upon investigation nothing is ever out of place, there are rattles, I blame the mouse. In the bedroom at night I can hear it, he always sounds as if he's in the room with me, chewing, I haven't found what he's chewing.
Pebbledash Beach and Corpse
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1953
The boy is climbing up a ladder to the roof. It's a long ladder, steel, he's maybe 30 feet in the air, it's a concrete room, brightly lit and poorly illuminated, feels like it's in a basement or parkade instead of the top floor of an office tower. There's a hole he's climbing through, I'm supposed to be watching or catching him, I climb up after. The hole to the roof is surrounded with torn fiberglass insulation, I'm bringing a little girl, these are not my children, the relationship is coincidental. We get to the roof after him, it's foggy, we can't see to the end of the building, the pebbledash on the tar slopes into a clear puddle of water left on the roof, deep. You can see the pebbles into the water, the girl wants to look into the puddle, you can see all of the little pebbles, grey, black, going down into the water. The boy leaves us, walks up ahead. We wait a couple of minutes then get up to follow, he's disappeared into the mist. We walk along the side of the puddle, there's a heap of pebbledash, and in the stones we see revealed the boys face, mottled blue, a hasty burial, blending into the stones, he's dead - there's nothing we can do. I take the girl and lead her away from this, "Don't Look" I tell her, he was only a minute away from us, what could have happened? We are looking for the place to get back downstairs...
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