today's dream log

dream


water

i was swimming. Learning to improve my strokes.
Hotel swimming pool. More rectangular than long. At dusk.
The glow of the lights in the water - turquoise.
Glass walls - rooftop terrace now closed. City skyline becomes alive.
Few people, mostly milling about. Languid in lounge chairs.

An instructor, svelt man, middle aged, comes into the pool to show me how to improve my strokes. Turns on the wave machine. I begin to swim. Each movement, poetic, graceful. Underwater ballet. He stops me, shows me, i begin again.

The movement propelling me forward is counteracted by the waves, bubbles, noise.
I pick up speed, and the waves get stronger, the bubbles bigger and the noise - louder.

Now it all seems so effortless. My body glides, hands slice the water like cleavers. Blade through flesh. Silent. No spash. No sound.


Flash. it's morning and we are now entering the sauna. Tilled cubicle. Standing room only. Five of us walk in. It's dark except for the ambient light. Steam streams through the walls. Eucalyptus fills our nostrils. Mentholated brush into the sinuses. General malaise. I say: "it's good for you. Now we sit and sweat."

After a few seconds, people tire and become anxious.
"Now we cold dip." pointing to the garden hose attached to the wall. I pick it up and lift it to my head.
"Are you crazy?"
"that's too cold!!"

"It closes your pores, gets your heart rate going. It's good for you."

But nobody listens. They slide out of the stall, aimless and sweaty. I stay behind, enjoying the whole aquatic experience.



House

E and I had bought a house. Condo actually. Model home. Fully equipped, furnished. Showroom ready to go. It was dark, pale moss green everywhere. Into the post-modern domestic forest. Everything was set. Tv was on. Welcoming din.


I began to get anxious. Nervous. Something was wrong. Trapped, suffocated I began to rant. Question. Weariness covered me like a veil.
"There are no windows!! How could you have said yes to a place that had no windows!!"

"it's not that big of a deal."
"what the hell do you mean!? Of course it is! I can't breathe! I can't see out! There is no natural sunlight!"
"why do you need light?"

Picking up a paint chip, blush pink, I waved it into his face.
"why can't we paint this place another color!? Why all this green? "
"you want to paint it? no problem. I can do that. Just give me the paint."
"but we can't live here while we paint!"
"why not?"
"THERE ARE NO WINDOWS TO OPEN!"
"so, what's your point?"

desperate, dejected and furious, i ran out of the house, into the street. Into the light, into the fresh air.


House - part 2

Now we are in an actual house. I'm on the other side of the front door, watching myself walk in with the agent. Cathedral ceilings, ruched curtains protecting the interior from sun.  Two level, winding staircase, kitchen with marble island, open concept. Stainless steel appliances. Clean. Hyper clean.

This is my house, yet it is not my house.
I own it but don't live in it.

I make my way to the kitchen, and begin to cook. Taking out the spices, putting them in alphabetical order.  E is there, but distant. Observing but not attentive.
I am despondent, why does he not help me?

The doorbell rings. We were not expecting company?

Open the door and a flood of people fill our hallway, making their way into the kitchen. The nexus of this industrial universe. So many people.

"why don't you help me?!!"

E walks away. JM walks behind him, turning to me: "he's not interesting in helping anymore. You have asked him for enough help. He needs to rest. He is fed up. Go on doing what you have to do. He's done with this. This marriage. This everything."

I am crushed. Mentally raped. Physically ruined.

More people, more noise, more scrutiny. My body goes numb. It's a miracle I'm standing.

I too become part of the model home. A fixture. Fleshy furniture. Bees buzzing around me, examining the countertops, the microwave, the fridge. Doors open, plates shifting, floor squeaking under the weight of these bodies make the floor squeak.

Everything is filthy, at least to my standards. I scurry behind, a gypsy child, picking up crumbs, wiping away residue, making everything sparkling clean.

I open the back door and they all fill into the outside yard. Good riddance. Goodbye. I close the door. The remaining people trickle away from the center of the industrial homemaker's universe.

There is a group of Indian women, diligently examining the spice rack.
"it's important to have all the spices in order to keep your kitchen harmonious".

Brown nimble fingers delicately pull apart the angel hairs of red saffron and place them onto the marble countertop.

"this should do it. This should fix everything now..."

a letter to a friend about a dream I had...

This dream, it started off weird. I was in the ocean - my mom was warning me about going out too far - that I would surely drown, but i went farther anyway.

The sea was turquoise. Tropical blue. Cuba blue I call it. I was so buoyant, the buoyancy became almost a meditative state. I floated past a hanging tomato plant (saw one on tv the night before...) in the middle of nowhere. The vines were filled with these beautiful succulent tomatoes. Next to it floated a man - who told me I could eat one. (garden of eden perhaps??) and i did. It was not as sweet as I had hoped, but more meaty. He said something that I wish I could have remembered because it seemed to be some sort of life lesson thingy, but he did give me a blessing to go across the ocean.

And so I did. 

Looking into the horizon, it soon began to morph into a cityscape, and at the foot of that cityscape, a beach with people bathing, enjoying the heat. I swam faster in anticipation. The depths were varying in degrees. Spots that should have been at least 100 feet, were only 2, and others vice versa. I could not make sense of the discrepancies, but was not scared anymore. Regardless of depth, the other side was visible. There was no longer an "ocean between us"...

I walked onto the beach - literally, another sea of people. Side by side, back to back. A sandy metropolis of chairs, oiled bodies and chatter. The sidewalk seemed so close, the skyscrapers leaning over the people. I walked to the bustling streets, looking for a phone.

I was carrying something, i don't remember what, but it was perishable and needed to be protected from the elements. I asked a street vendor to hold it for me, but refused. After that, it quickly became night so I entered a coffee shop/pastry boutique, white haired ladies buzzed behind the counter. 

I leaned over and spoke in french to a sweet old woman who was also from my city and took pity on my situation, and gladly said she would hold onto my "package" until I came back from my meeting with you. I was releived. 

I walked outside - and it seemed to be a mix of what i imagined LA to be (from what i see on tv LOL) and new york. Metropolitan hustle and bustle. I walked to a pay phone and become despondent that I had forgotten your number at home and began to panic.

Reaching to pick up the telephone book, i saw a photo of you - smiling, and holding your camera, looking up to a tall building. It was on the bottom part of a phone - sometimes a space used for giving useful information on emergency numbers, how to dial international numbers etc. I could not believe it! What were the chances!! I called the operator, explained my situation to her and told her who you were (and that you were on the phone box) and she immediately connected me to you, and as if by magic, you appeared!!

Oh we were so happy to see each-other! We jumped and hugged like two 50's school girls who had just scored tickets to see the Beatles. "we have so much to catch up on - so much to do!!" you said, as you led me by the hand into the heart of the city. I looked behind me and saw the ocean again - both sides of it - the new and old shore, both there, open, waiting for me to return, wishing me well on my new journey...




Oh my dear friend. I know that we have more journeys to take together, so many lessons to learn and teach each other and so many photographs to take.  it's all a beginning, and perhaps is something that will never end. Some people I have met in my life I know I will meet again - soul travelers i call them. Please stay well. I know that life is difficult for you now, filled with melancholy and uncertainty, as is mine too, but as long as we can see both sides of the shore, we know that floating in the middle of the ocean is never a finite thing :-)