Gophers in the Attic

We are in the attic of an enormous old wooden building, perhaps a warehouse or similar. We are slowly making out way along the center of the space, from one end of the building to the other. Above our heads there is a long row of circular wooden gears suspended from the peak of the roof.  Looking up from beneath them, it looks like a long row of wagon wheels, connected like gears, suspended from the ceiling. For some reason I’m very short, so I’m looking up at them from below, but they are just above Michal’s head and he is moving slowly dow the line, adjusting wires that attach to some of them. Occasionally I reach up and give one a spin, noticing just after I do it that Michal was working on it. He seems a bit irritated, as I do it several times, but says nothing. We carry on slowly working on one wheel at a time, down the center of the building.

I’m in the same space, but now it’s crowded and I don’t see Michal. Where there used to be wheels hanging from the ceiling,  there is a similar row of circular objects down the middle of the space, they are small trees growing in a straight line down the floor. The trees have fluffy round tops, like truffula trees in the Dr. Seuss story, “The Lorax”. There is tall, wispy grass growing up from between the floorboards.

As I’m walking along the row of trees, I notice a little gopher running along beside me. I reach down to touch him, but he scoots away. Suddenly I feel something hit the back of my leg, and I look to see the little gopher has jumped up and is hanging on my pant leg. He is looking up at me and doesn’t seem afraid. I decide to let him stay there. As I turn my attention away from him, I notice I’m carrying a little black puppy in my arms. It’s a little black lab puppy.  As I’m noticing the puppy, I feel more weight on me and there is a cat that has also climbed up my pant leg and is happily hanging on just above the gopher.

I decide I have no more room for critters, so I walk toward the exit, which is a set of stone stairs so steep it appears to be a ladder, rather than stairs. At the top, the cat jumps down and attempts to descend. The gopher climbs up to my shoulder and begins rubbing against my chin. The puppy is asleep in my arms. I carefully put my foot down to the first step.

I wake up.

All the Dirty Laundry

I’m with a group of girl friends, we are on a long weekend getaway. I am aware of the identity of two friends, the rest are faceless. I’m not sure how many are there in total. One of the familiar friends has a partner along, and he is a colleague of mine.

We are in a small town, and arrive at a heritage style house. Inside there is an atmosphere like a pub, but the layout and furnishings aren’t quite right. There is a central bar, but to approach the bar I must enter into a large funnel of sorts. It starts out spaciously enough, but it gets narrower as I approach the bar. I’m not the only one in the funnel, and as it narrows, personal space becomes an issue. I feel crowded, and look over my shoulder to see who is shoving me. It’s my colleague, who is dating my friend. I’m instantly on edge, and sense this is going to cause problems.

I’m watching a confrontation between my friend and her boyfriend, my colleague. I back away and go upstairs. The atmosphere is very different. It’s a huge but poorly lit open space with old couches and chairs around the wall. The center of the room is empty.

My other familiar friend, and an old woman are sitting at the edge of the room. They aren’t near each other, and I can barely see them in the low light. The old woman is not part of our group. My friend asks me to go get the laundry from the dryer. I do so.

I’m carrying a load of warm clothes from the dryer over to a couch at the edge of the room. The odd sock, lettuce leaf, and carrot fall out of the bundle as I walk. I also notice that there is a turtle in mixed in with the clothes. I can’t tell if it’s alive or dead, it isn’t moving. I ask my friend, “Why is there a turtle in the laundry?”. She replies, “We had to put the vegetables somewhere…”.

I put the laundry down and start separating the vegetables from the clothes. I notice the turtle has moved. I pick him up. He’s still warm from the dryer, and he seems a bit miffed. He bites at my shirt. I gather up some vegetables to placate him. I ask again why the turtle was put through the laundry. I get no response.

I wake up.

Moulting Bear-Horses

I am on a rural property. There is a gentle slope to the property, I’m near the bottom of the slope. As I stand and look up the slope, there is a dilapidated building to my left. I’m standing in one of several raised planting beds. It’s been raining, the ground I’m standing on is soggy. About 10 feet in front of me, just up the slope, a wooden fence runs horizontally across the property. On the other side of the fence, again on the right, there is a partially enclosed greenhouse. Beyond that, leading up the slope, is a grassy pasture.

I’m choosing a spot in the planter boxes to sleep. I have a sleeping bag and I’m trying to find the best angle to settle in. It’s daylight, and I can see the sleeping bag is in a muddy puddle. I’m not concerned about this. As I continue to fuss with the sleeping bag, a motion catches my eye across the fence in the greenhouse. I approach the fence to get a better look. There is a large shape moving around in the greenhouse. It’s up off the ground, I think maybe it’s a large monkey. I keep watching it and I realize it’s a bear. I don’t feel any fear, the bear is clambering around less than 20 feet from me.

Suddenly the bear makes a quick move and bolts out of the greenhouse. I wonder which direction it’s going to go. It comes toward the fence but then veers away and heads up the slope. As it runs it transforms into a very shaggy palomino horse.

As soon as it is transformed it turns toward me and gallops hard down the hill. There is no way it is going to stop, so I duck down as close to the fence as I can. The horse jumps the fence, right over top of me. I can smell it. I can also see large tufts of hair flying off the horse as it runs.

The horse skids to a halt, turns, and runs back at me. Again I duck down, pressing hard against the fence. The horse jumps back over the fence, mud and hair flying everywhere. He gallops hard back up the hill. From a distance he is beautiful, but as he turns and comes at me again, he is even more patchy and sick looking.

I wake up.

Psychedelic Seahorses

I’m in the backset of a large SUV. In the front passenger seat is a dear friend of mine, the truck is being driven by her husband.  We are going to pick up another friend at her home. We drive into an entrance that looks like the entrance to an underground parking garage. Instead of the ramp leading down, it leads up. It is very dark and all constructed of wood. There are dark stained planks on the floor, walls and ceiling. It is so dark, and feels like it just absorbs the light form the headlights, rather than lighting the way. Nonetheless, the vehicle slowly circles up and up until the space opens out.

We are parked in the kitchen of a woman’s house. It is constructed of the same dark wood, but there is more light here, one wall is glass. My friend gets out of the vehicle and goes to greet the woman, who is gathering her things from the counter. I also get out of the vehicle, say hello, then walk over to the wall that is all glass. I look out and see an idyllic lake. There are tidy little docks and boat shelters. People are pedalling around in pedal boats. As I watch, I can see not only the activity on the surface of the water, but also under the water. At first I’m not sure what I saw, a little streak of color moved through the water. A moment later, a much larger one, it seemed to fill the space from the bottom of the lake to the surface, it was moving much slower. I can clearly see that it is a large seahorse, nearly transparent, save a splash of bright colors over it’s belly. Several more also passed by, some large, some small, all headed in the same direction. Finally the last one passed, I waited a while longer by the glass, but no more appeared into view.

I woke up.

A Short Flight to England

I’m at a social gathering of some manner, in a warm bright space. I decide it is time to leave so I say my goodbyes.

As I leave the space I am aware that I must go to England.

I find myself outdoors walking down a road. The road turns into a bridge that begins on land and disappears into the distance over the ocean. I walk onto the bridge but it  disappears below me. Below me there is ocean, the occasional island, and in time, several small aircraft. This draws my attention to the fact that I must be flying, and I have let my altitude get a little out of hand. For a moment I’m not sure what to do, I notice I’m holding something. I focus on it, it is a credit card that I am holding between the thumbs and pointer fingers of both hands. I stretch my arms out, aiming the credit card down toward earth and feel myself quickly accelerate in the direction I’m pointing it. The control allows me to drop down until I’m just skimming the water.

I approach land, the water gives way to grassy meadows and ponds. I fly low over one of the ponds, I’m surprised to see milky white fish walking around the pond, in the grass rather than in the water. One in particular has it’s spine on the outside of it’s body, looking very much like a piece of nigiri sushi.

I gently land just past the pond at the base of a flight of stone stairs. I climb the stairs, walk a few feet through what feels like a medieval town, then enter one of the houses.

There are more stairs,  I climb them and enter into a modern living room.  There is an elderly man sitting in an armchair surrounded by children.  They are all watching a huge flatscreen TV. They do not look my way as I enter the room.

I wake up.

Symmetrical Ham and $1 Houses

I’m standing at the passenger window of a minivan chatting with Nathan Fillion who is in the passenger seat. There are no surroundings, it’s like we are in a vacuum. I say goodbye and walk away from the van.

I’m going home, the route takes me, scrambling on all fours, up a steep bank of red sand. There are large birds swooping about, and every now and then I need to duck to avoid being struck by a wing. With each step more sand sloughs away under my hands and feet. I begin patting the sand down into a firmly packed trail so I can proceed to the top of the bank.  At the top there is an overhang of grass, and I make myself a bed under the overhang and settle in to sleep.

I’m woken by a sound downstairs in the kitchen. I get up and go downstairs to find Nathan Fillion in the kitchen eating a huge leg of ham. He has cut a very symmetrical slice out of the middle, leaving a cartoon like portion of a ham with a perfect slice missing. I question him as to why he would take the slice out of the middle, he says he has no time to explain.  He wipes his face on a tea towel and leaves. Several people enter the kitchen, a man I don’t know, and a few neighbours and colleagues. The man is explaining how he has houses for sale in the United States for only $1.  We have to act fast, this deal won’t last for ever. One of my colleagues is going for it. I ask what the legal and procedural costs are in addition to the $1 asking price. The man does not answer the question but provides a form for my colleague to sign. I ask if he has any documentation I can have my lawyer review, I get no response. I tell the man that I’m very interested in the deal, but I do need more information, and I would like to get a legal opinion.

I wake up.

Hotel Fiasco

I’m having an ultra restless sleep in the hotel where I’m staying this week. I’ve been awake for hours, but finally I must have fallen asleep because through the fog of sleep and the mercy of earplugs, I hear a muffled banging sound. At first it sounds like construction noise and I ignore it. It persists. I remove an earplug to hear more clearly, someone is banging at the door and yelling for me to open it.

I’m struggling to pull myself from sleep, but I feel my feet hit the floor. I start to move toward the light, there is something sharp on the carpet under my feet, it feels like I’m walking through gravel. I flick the light on, it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust, it looks like a bomb has gone off in my room. The floor is covered with broken glass and remnants of drywall. The ceiling has large areas that look like they have caved in under a weight. I pick my way toward the bathroom, I need to get a towel to cover myself before I open the door.  The bathroom is in the same shape. I catch a glimpse of myself in a shard of what’s left of the mirror and notice that I’m already wrapped up in a bedsheet. I move to the door and open it it. Two officious hotel staff roughly push past me and move through the room. I turn and follow them, asking what has happened. I get no response. As I re-enter the main space in the room I notice there is a body dressed in dark clothes, wearing a latex mask, laying in a heap over by the tv.  There is another person, dressed in lighter clothes, with a bald head draped over a chest that sits under the window that now has a big hole through it. I think to myself that might be where all the glass has come from. I ask again what is happening, and again I’m ignored.

I see men dressed in military uniforms standing around outside the window, they don’t seem to be that interested in what’s happening inside the room. I start to feel anger creeping in that, as a paying guest, no one will tell me what has happened, what is going to happen, or even just move me to a new room so I can finally get some sleep. I begin to state these sentiments to no one in particular as I search around for my belongings. When I look back toward the window, the two individuals who were previously heaps on the floor and chest respectively are now on their feet and have been joined by 2 more men, possibly the hotel staff.  They are standing in a row facing the window, which is now whole, and gesturing toward the military men outside. The military men seem to be enjoying whatever show they are seeing, they stand there laughing.

The four men turn from the window and leave the room through the door. I’m left with a complete mess in the room, and no answers as to what the hell just happened. I walk over to look out the window and see a huge balcony that is spattered with recumbent bike machines, like you would see at the gym.  There are old women riding the bikes.

I return to bed and climb in. I wake up in my room, undisturbed but confused.