Tag Archives: rural

Compliant Bears, LPs and Xylophones

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A female coworker an I have been dropped off at the bottom of a gravel driveway in a rural area. The driveway is narrow and about 150 meters long, fairly steep, and veers off to the right at the top so we can’t quite see the house it leads to.

We are nearing the top when my colleague notices a large bear heading our direction. The bear is closing in on us, and there is nowhere to go, there is a bank and dense trees on either side of the driveway. We press ourselves against the bank and hope the bear will just pass. That’s when we notice there are actually several bears, many of them look like cubs and juveniles.

I step away from the bank and start directing the bears past us, starting with the mother bear. I’m waving them down the driveway as though I’m a deckhand on a ferry, or at least a traffic control person. The bears one by one pass us by and amble down the driveway. We carry on to the house.

I never arrive at the house, instead I arrive at a little shed. Inside I find my parents and my uncle sitting around a large old looking device. I ask what they are doing, and without looking up from their task they tell me they are recording jazz.

I inspect the machine they are working on more closely. It is cream coloured, sort of resembling a really large, old amplifier. On top is a record player of sorts, and there are slots for two cassettes on the front. There are records lying around everywhere, they are all different sizes and shapes, ranging from small and round to larger and more oval. Everything on the machine seems to be moving, but no sound is coming out. I watch for a while.

We are all around a large “L” shaped dinner table.  There is a small toy xylophone at each end of the table and several people, including myself, have small mallets. We randomly reach out and strike the xylophones with the mallets. As I watch, the xylophone nearest me changes from it’s rectangular shape, and the colorful keys shrink and warp into the shape of potato chips, freeing themselves from the body of the xylophone. People begin molding the newly shaped keys into the piles of silly putty that are on the table, and wondering aloud why the keys no longer make music.

Jacked Up Truck and Miniature Elf Babies

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It’s winter in a rural area. I’m driving a pickup truck, it’s jacked up, I’m high up off the ground. I drive into the yard of a property. There are adjacent parking lots, separated by a fences and a snowbank that comes to the top rail of the fence. Beyond that I can see a few guys working, they glance up as my truck pulls into the lot. Although there are no other vehicles in either parking area, I’m dissatisfied with my first parking choice. I back the truck up to reposition it. As I put it in gear to move forward, I give it a bit too much gas, hit an icy spot, or some combination of both, and find myself smoothly soaring over the fence into the second parking area. As I fly clear the fence in slow motion, I see a child crouched down playing in the second lot. I am airborne and cannot control the direction of the vehicle. I land gently, but the truck is so high I have no idea whether I have hit the child or not. As I jump out, I feel the glare of the men who are working just beyond the lot. I take a few steps to the front of the truck and relief floods through me as I find the child undisturbed, still engrossed in his play.

Something catches my eye under the truck, and I crouch down to take a better look. I see at least 3 tiny children/babies, the largest no more than 6″ long. They are laying in a pile under the truck. They are all dressed the same, in light blue one piece sleepers, with long light blue sleep caps that have been starched to a sharp point, they look like tiny blue elves. The caps are pulled down over their eyes, and for a moment I think they might be little dolls. I reach under the truck and pull one out. It is the smallest one, no more than 5″ long, it lays in the palm of my hand. I gently pull the sleep cap up to reveal it’s eyes, and am startled when it’s eyes pop open and it laughs. I keep it in my hand and reach for a second one. It is slightly bigger. It crosses my mind that I should not be moving them until they have been cleared for a spinal injury, but they are so small I decide to just keep them as still as possible until I know more about what they are.

I gently lay the second one alongside the first in the palm of my hand. I pull the sleep cap up on the second one and my stomach sinks as it’s eyes do not pop open, and rather as I pull the cap up to expose more of it’s tiny forehead, there is a bruise above it’s right eye.

I reach for the third, and am woken by my alarm.