Tag Archives: dreaming

The Watchers

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I’m in my home, though it’s no a place I’ve seen in my waking life. There are adults and children, two boys, who are my family, though I have never seen them in my waking life.

My high school friend Kathy comes over, I can’t determine if it is a planned visit or not. She has travelled to be here, and needs somewhere to sleep. There is nowhere in the home to put up a guest, but I tell her I have an apartment not far away.

We set out to the apartment, we walk there along a trail that I do remember from my childhood home. The trail follows the shoreline of a lake, and is slightly overgrown, but it is very familiar.

Soon we notice that the trail has turned into the interior of a building. The building has a surreal feeling to it, as though we are walking down a large hallway, with rooms on either side of us. There are no doors or walls on the rooms, and as we pass, the occupants look up from their activities to observe us. Some seem to expect our presence, some are indifferent, and some alarmed or even annoyed. We walk past bedrooms, dining rooms, and living rooms. I feel increasingly like we are intruding, and begin to look for a way out. I have not been able to locate my apartment, nothing looks familiar to me, a realization which alarms me. In time I notice that each room has a door on the far wall that looks like it leads to the outside.

Positioned in front of each door is a black device with brass trim that looks very similar to the coin operated binoculars you might find at a scenic viewpoint. Some of them are face out through the doors, others are looking inward and seem to be tracking us as we move along through the building.

I ask what they are, someone tells me they are Watchers, and we are not to look at them.

In the next moment, we are at the docks, similar as to what is portrayed in the movies about the time when the Irish immigrants arrived in New York; busy, dirty, confused, with Watchers positioned in various locations. We walk past a young man who gets shoved into a Watcher, and in a flash he is lifted up onto a stump that has appeared from nowhere, he has a burlap back with a strange, eerie face lightly printed on it, and a noose around his neck.

I wake up.

Nowhere to Hide

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This is a dream from about  two years ago, before I underwent hypnotherapy. I’m sharing it because I remember it so vividly, and also because although it scared the crap out of me, i think the imagery in the beginning of the dream would make a fantastically weird but visually interesting photograph. 

 

I am running through a field, toward a house on the horizon. I’m fleeing from someone or something, I don’t know what. I’m running for my life.

Aa I get closer to the house, I realize with a sinking feeling that it has no walls, only studs, it’s still under construction. Still, it’s the only option for shelter. I continue toward it without slowing.

I reach the house and I’m frantically searching through it for somewhere to hide. There is nowhere, everything is exposed.

I look back out out across the fields from where I have just come.  There are now orderly rows of a crop, it looks like potatoes, forming diminishing lines toward the horizon.

Three white vans pull up along the side of the field, about 500m from the house.

Several men get out of each van, each dressed in a white hazmat suit with an old style gas mask on.

The men spread out across the field and start moving toward the house, approaching along the rows of potatoes

They are carrying weapons, or devices that I can’t quite make out.

My already heightened fear rises further.

I resume my frantic search for a place to hide as they near the house.

The men enter into the house through the door, through the unfinished walls, coming in like a terrifying wave of white,

As they enter the house, I try to move to the far back corner, staying as far from them as possible.

They move through the house slowly, with purpose, as though they are searching for something. Some of them look right at me, but don’t make any indication they see me.

I try to scream, no sound comes out

The men are getting so close I can see their eyes through the gas masks. They don’t seem to see me.

I’m frozen, not concealed but can’t move to run away.

The men move past me, exiting through the unfinished walls at the back of the house.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

Fashion and Fights

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I am standing on the top of an outdoor landing at the top of marble stairs overlooking a grand estate. There is a wide marble path that extends from the bottom of the stairs to a large, lavish home. The path passes by fountains and other features.

I’m standing on the landing talking to Tyra Banks, who is running some manner of fashion event on the estate, there are dozens of models emerging from the home at the far end of the path.

I mention to Tyra that there is an opportunity to take a visually strong image of the models walking single file in their flowy gowns along the path back toward the house. Tyra agrees, and as the models return to her on the landing, she starts organizing a refresh of hair, make up and wardrobe while I set up my camera gear. The models start walking down the stairs to get into place, and I notice as they go many are carrying placards with protest slogans written on them.

The next thing I’m aware of is I’m watching a TV show with someone, though I can’t determine who my companion is. I notice that I can’t actually see the TV, only the scene within. It’s a tight shot of a street corner, and my companion comments that it’s a main intersection in our hometown. It does have a familiarity to it. The era of the props and  characters seems to be in the late 1800s or so. A gentleman in nice clothes enters the scene from the left, then turns and walks away from the viewer. He seems to have what looks like the handle of a very angular metal cane or something similar wrapped around his head, with the shaft of the device protruding out at an angle from his body. I comment to my companion, “what a weirdo” and the man turns and gives me a withering stare (it is Hugh Grant), before carefully climbing into a waiting carriage, supposedly so as not to disturb his head-cane.

I’m suddenly back at the estate, though it’s now significantly rundown, and the models with their placards have turned into a full blown rally of some nature. I’m behind a family as we walk down the stairs. The woman from the family says something to the family in front of them, when a man approaches her, begins shouting at her, then shoves her and and starts taking swings. A crowd forms around them, and I can no longer see what is happening. I notice someone in the crowd is holding a sign that says “Stop Violence Against Women”. I note the irony.

I wake up.

 

A Busy Raccoon and New Scottish Neighbours

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The dream begins with me walking up a narrow rural road in the evening. I have the sense and familiarity with the place that I thin I’m walking to my parent’s home. I make a right turn onto a small side street, and simultaneously everything goes dark, what sounds like a vehicle passes behind me, and I hear a person or a creature approaching me, though I can’t quite place from which direction.

I fumble to start the flashlight on my cellphone, but the beam of light is so weak it doesn’t help much. I do determine that the creature I’m hearing is small, maybe a squirrel or something, and it’s running all over in a most excited way. It keeps running up to me and bumping into my legs. It doesn’t seem particularly hostile, just strange and excited.

I decide that the best way to deal with this little critter is to just keep pressing on to wherever I’m headed, so I do so. He carries on with me, running all over like a weirdo.

The further we walk, the bigger he gets. Now when he runs through the feeble beam of my cellphone flashlight, he is about the size of a house cat. As I notice this, I also notice my light reflecting off something not far ahead of us on the road. As we approach, a collection of computer equipment slowly comes into view, sitting in the middle of the dark road. It’s all set up with a few CPUs, monitors, and a ton of wires. There are also several external hard drives connected. It’s all just sitting there on the road.

The critter, that now appears to be more of a raccoon than anything else, despite having short grey hair, more like a house cat, runs through the equipment, stopping periodically to rub up against one of the CPUs. It occurs to me that this equipment may belong to the critter, or more reasonably, the critter’s owner. Perhaps if I keep moving, the critter will stay behind.

Not the case. As I proceed down the dark road, my new little friend is at my heels.

Not sure how or why I’m here, I find myself sitting in a shallow, dry ditch on the side of the road, still in sight of the computer gear. I’m sitting in the ditch like it’s a sun lounger, and I’m beside a large hockey bag that appears to be mine.  The raccoon is curled up on my chest, and the darkness is gone. I am sitting in this ditch looking across the road when out of nowhere a Scottish festival leaps into full swing. Immediately on the other side of the road is what seems to be a large Scottish family all dressed in traditional clothes doing some manner of enthusiastic dance.  Just beyond them I see a man with a falcon, tents, and a variety of other activities. My attention is drawn back to the dancing family, particularly to a young woman who is facing me, and staring at me. She has red hair, freckles, and a very intense expression as she stares at me.  I have never seen her before.

The scene doesn’t last long, and suddenly I’m in a living room with the family who were dancing. It’s a long, narrow living room, sort of like it’s inside a train car. Two long couches face each other, are very close together, and the backs of the couches are absurdly high for the space.

I’m sitting next to a man, I think he is the head of the family. The raccoon is curled up on his lap. Across from him is the young woman who was staring at me so intently during the festival. There are several more people, ranging from young kids to adults all crowded into the seats as well, but I can’t see their faces clearly. I start to ask a question about the raccoon, when the woman cuts me off. She tells me that I damaged one of her hard drives the night before, and as a result she has lost a number of images.

I do recall running over something with the wheels of my hockey bag, but before I can respond, my alarm goes off.

Angry Pirate Crab

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I am on some sort of summer camp trip, there seems to be a lot of us, staying in accommodations similar to a dormitory. The other campers are a combination of people I know from my childhood through to current coworkers, as well as strangers.

Scenes change regularly from the dorms, to a bus stop where a school bus is always sitting, to a Walmart-like department store, where it seems like people are engaged in a scavenger hunt or something similar.

It interests me that that every time I find myself at the bus stop, I notice that before I speak to anyone, I first start rubbing their back. It makes them visibly uncomfortable, but for some reason it is required.

Eventually I find myself in the water, looking back at a rugged coast line. There are bluffs, and lots of jagged rocks in the water. I have snorkeling gear on, and I am paddling through the water. I look up and notice some kids playing in a tidal pool, and pointing to a brightly colored star fish. I decide to go find a tidal pool myself and see some marine life, so I start paddling.

I realize I’m no longer in the water, it seems the tide has moved way out, but if I kick hard enough I’m flying over the dry rocks rather than paddling in the water.

I proceed this way until I do in fact come to a tidal pool that has a large, bright orange crab in it. The crab does not look very friendly, it has long tentacle-like appendages, and an angry face. It hisses and lunges at me, causing me to falter and I fall from the air onto a nearby rock. I’m busy sorting myself out after my rough landing, when I hear more hissing, and I see Merlin, my cat, swatting at the crab. I try to get her attention to chase her away, but as usual, she pays no attention. Next thing I know, the crab is on Merlin’s back, riding her like a pony. The tentacles have turned into dread locks, not at all unlike something from Pirates of the Caribbean. As I watch, Merlin turns into a tiny palomino pony, and the crab rides her away along the rocks.

Before I wake up, I find myself one more time at the bus stop, rubbing people’s backs inappropriately.

 

Silly-String Jellyfish and Bully Robots

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I’m at a tiny rural airstrip, there is an overgrown grass runway on one side of a small two track dirt road, and a portable trailer on the other. There is a food truck covered with a tarp near the portable trailer. That seems to be why I’m there, to check on the food truck. As I approach, a small aircraft lands, taxies down the little airstrip, crosses the road and pulls up in front of the portable trailer. A man and a young boy get out, look at me, and then proceed into the trailer. I continue my work. At a point I look up and notice the airplane is on fire. I run to the trailer to alert the man, he seems very irritated to be disturbed, but he comes outside and puts out the fire, glaring at me periodically.

The next thing I recall is walking into the large airy dining room of what appears to a 3rd floor apartment. There is a party or gathering of some nature in progress, and I have the impression it’s my family, though I can’t actually see anyone’s faces. I enter with my boyfriend, and everyone seems happy to see us. The dining room has large glass doors that open onto a balcony overlooking the street below. I notice there is no railing on the balcony, and there are no railings on the balconies across the street either.

My boyfriend and I move to the back of the space, and we are observing the festivities in the room and on the balcony. People are starting to move toward the balcony, they have seen something that has surprised or delighted them. We look closer, and see pastel blue and pink translucent jellyfish floating up to the balcony. They are so strange, at first I think the neighbours must have some sort of cool bubble machine, but closer look shows the things are moving with purpose, changing direction, and appear to be pulsing with their movements. One hits the window, and it most certainly does look like a jellyfish.

They are starting to fill the air, and people are out on the balconies across the street looking at them as well. People in our party start venturing out onto the balcony, and I urge them to come back in and close the window. They either don’t hear me, or disregard my urging. As I watch, a little robot emerges from an apartment across the street onto the balcony across from us. He is about 4’ tall, sort of cute, shiny, with big eyes, and ducting type arms and legs. I’m thinking how charming he is, when he stops in the patio doorway across the street, and takes a big bite out of the doorframe. As I’m staring at him, trying to make sense of him, my attention is drawn to a sudden movement on a balcony a few doors down, where another robot has just reached out and shoved a person off the edge of the balcony. I see them fall to the street below.

I wake up.