Wednesday, 20 March 2019

Dream journal: Seven

As usual, the date shown is the date the dream was captured. 

15 February

On the Sunshine Coast (where I lived in real life from 2009 until 2015) there was a French enclave that jutted out into the bay that was shaped a bit like Spain. Near the main road, which took coast residents from one settlement to another, there were reliques of the old colonial days, including an old tavern that had seen the slaughter of a number of natives in the past. Now, all these old buildings had been fenced off with a heavy mesh of chicken wire coated in green plastic and the only way to get into the settlement was by foot. I had wanted to live there to do a course but I wondered how I would get around without a car.

Then I was riding a bike with friends along a coast road. We were going fast from place to place. At one place we stopped and I cooked some eggs with herbs but I left them go for a bit too long and they turned watery and brown. I cooked them for a bit longer and ate them anyway. The people I was riding with included the actor Alan Alda and his wife.

Then I was in an office and I was free, without any tasks to do, so I was distributing the faxes that came in. We were organising a popular music show and I gave out to other employees faxes printed on their flimsy light-sensitive paper that had already been stapled together, in some cases. Some of the faxes I had to staple together also, and at one stage I ran out of staples. I asked one of the women in the office where to get more staples and she told me they were on the seventh floor. I was about to climb up on top of a set of shelves to get there, then decided at the last minute to catch the lift instead.

24 February

This segment of dream came at the end of other segments. In it, I was at restaurant table sitting opposite a man who was very overweight. The table was part of a club, one of those clubs that are founded for an ethnic community to use. He was Italian but second-generation, so he spoke in a particular accent that its common in the community. We were eating from a plate of sausages with some sort of clear sauce. The man was telling me about two men who were, like him, involved in the operation of the club. He didn’t like them and I couldn’t work out what the source of the enmity was. He said at one stage, “That Mark Alexander is a disgrace.” It must have been something pretty serious to warrant that kind of language, I surmised about this man’s disliking of the two men. Finally I understood however that his animosity stemmed from the fact that the two men in question, who ran a restaurant in the club, were gay. The man I was talking with was merely homophobic. I told him that what he was doing was like telling a 10-year-old boy that you couldn’t trust someone because that person had black hair. He didn’t care. We had finished eating the sausages by this time, or at least he had. I took another fat sausage and put it on my plate, and continued eating.

27 February

I was in the water helping people get out and making sure they didn’t have any difficulties. The library I was temping for had hired drones to survey the area and to do various things. I saw one of the drones fly up in the air as though I were up in the air too, although I knew that I was down in the water. The drone was white and had five whirring propellers with one in the centre of the thing. It looked very expensive. For my job on this day I had to take care of the volunteers and get them home safely. I was standing on the rocky and muddy bottom of the bay near the ladder that people were climbing up to get out of the water. I had to keep adjusting my face mask to make it sit comfortably on my visage. The rocks on the bottom were hurting my feet a bit. There was a long line of what looked like Dutch water polo players and they were getting out one by one, holding up the rest of the people as they advanced in single file.

4 and 5 March

I got a flu but it was not that bad. Had strange dreams under the influence of the virus on the night of 3 March. I dreamed that I was sick and that it was affecting my health. It was very literal, a dream of being sick and suffering. The next night I had the same kind of dream but this time I was imagining that I was writing a dream journal chronicling the dream, and I was noting the dramatic effects of the dream. In my dream, I wrote down the ways that the dream was working as a narrative, including its resemblance to other narratives I have seen in films or in books.

17 March

Someone was making a diorama that was shaped like prominent buildings housing art galleries in Paris. The display was made in slices, and seen from an angle you could see the different shapes of the buildings distinctly. Some of the buildings had very unusual shapes. There was one that was shaped like a map of the UK. Others were very modern designs that had special significance when seen in this way. There were many buildings and to make the display took quite a long time. I was observing the whole process from above, trying to understand what each shape signified, trying to understand. 

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