080128 free bird, weighing
1)Rocky the cockateil is flying free and I am so happy. He is free in the new house I purchased, which is full of boxes. (It is a house like the green one I wanted to buy, maybe the same one, maybe not.) I love the fact that Rocky can fly free and be him or her self.
2)Keith and I are on a trip. We stop at a roadside pull over where there are very fancy bathrooms on wheels. Before we start out to do what we are doing next, Keith says he wants to use the restroom and get weighed. I hadn't thought of that, but I decide to do it too, and I go in, use the bathroom, undress, and weigh myself. For some reason, I leave the bathroom naked with with all my clothes and belongings inside and someone else goes in and I can't leave to rejoin Keith until I get dressed. I've forgotten what I weighed and want to reweigh myself first. It starts turning into an upsetting ordeal because a woman with children is in where my clothes are and I can't get them because it is taking them so long.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
And then I woke up, Chapter 2: Detention
Chapter 2: Detention
"Matt, check this one out," Tammy hissed across the table.
Matt was standing up with his head twisted funny counting quietly to himself. "Wait a minute," he said, "I'm right in the middle of something, here, try this and then I'll see what you found." Tammy stood up and camer around the table. Matt didn't look at her. "Stare at this picture and count slowly to 60 and then stare at the white page next to it." The picture was of a green, orange and black flag. She started counting and staring, staring and counting. "Oh, WOW!" Matt breathed, "that's cool!"
"I knew that's what would happen," Tammy said, after she finished her couldn't, I could tell becaese the colors were exactly opposite. Of course it would be red white and blue, what else would it be? But it it very cool. I can still see it on the wall and on the table."
"Do you know why it happens?"
"Your eyeballs get tired of looking at orange, green and black?"
"That's pretty much it--you use up all the chemicals needed to see those colors so when you stop looking, you see the opposite. It's pretty cool."
"It sure is, now check this one out." Matt came over and looked into Tammy's book.
"Oh, cool, it's one of those magic eye things."
"Yeah, but check it out, dude, it's not just any magic eye. This is really fun!"
"I thought you said detention was not your ideas of fun! Sometimes I'm kinda slow at this."
"I usually get them right away. Hey, I didn't know Mr. Sorensen and Mr. Beakley would give us such a fun project--and extra credit in both science and English. I didn't know what to expect. I've never been to detention before. Keep trying, this is the best one I've ever seen."
"Never been to detention? That's because you're such a goody-goody."
"Am not!"
"Are, too! Oh! I got it. It's a mandala, a mandala within a mandala. I think it's a portal. Maybe we can use it to travel."
"How?"
Matt looked at his watch. Okay, we've got half an hour. First we need to prop the book up. OK, ready, hold my hand."
"Here, in the library? We'll get in trouble."
"Just do it." He snatched her hand. "OK, now we both unfocus and stare at it until it's in focus. Find the mandala and stare at the center. It's a portal, works sort of like a black hole, only gentler. I'm not sure where we're going to come out, so we should remember to look and see where the portal is on the other end. It may not even go Mearddth, and some of the other worlds having shifting topography. Even Mearddth does, sometimes. Oh, he said, here we are. It's a flower on this end, and it looks like all the other flowers. The others may be portals too, but may not take us back to the library."
"Here, tie this ribbon around it carefully," Tammy said, pulling it out of her hair. Sheep and goats grazed on the far side of the field. "I hope none of them eats our portal," Tammy said, nervously, pointing. "Maybe we should just go back. We're going to get lost, or get in trouble."
"Nah," Matt said, "Portals are just other entries into the dreamworld. Our bodies are back in the library staring at the book and if we don't show up, Sorensen or Beakley will just shake us gently and we'll wake up. We may be a little disoriented, but it'll be fine."
The funnel-shaped flower with the deep purple center stood about ten feet from a tall pine. Beyond the pine, the ground sloped away to a meadow, and in the meadow was a small cabin. It looked deserted. "Let's go down there," Matt said, taking off at a run through the field. He lifted from the ground and began to fly, faster and faster, until he hovered right above the cabin. Laughing, Tammy followed him, leaping into the air and flying. It was such a rush of excitement to fly like that. She wanted to just fly and fly, over the hills and the distant peaks. Vaguely, she remembered that they had to go back. Besides, Matt seemed intent on something else. "Come here," he said, settling to the ground in front of the cabin. I want to show you something." With that, he stepped right through the cabin wall and disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared, coming through the wall in another place, as if it were made out of standing water, only he wasn't wet.
Tammy walked up to the cabin wall and knocked on it hard. It was solid as a newly peeled log. Rock hard. She knocked again. "Yes?" a voice said, a high girlish voice that sounded like an old woman pretending to be a girl. "Who is it?"
"Uh, it's me, Tammy Wilson, and Matt Martin is here, too. Who are you? Where are you?"
"I'm in here of course. Come on in, but don't let the cat out." Matt walked back through the wall. Tammy went and opened the front door and stuck her foot in front of a cat that was trying to escape. The cat bit her foot and then leaped over it. Tammy grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. It hissed and spit and suddenly got huge. Tammy managed to slam the door with the cat inside. The cat almost filled the entire room. And it was not happy. Its eyes were a malevolent red and its teeth were needle sharp and it was looking hungrily at Tammy.
It looked like it was now too big to get out the door. Tammy put her hand on the knob and carefully turned it. She zipped out and slammed the door. But the car shrunk to the size of a mouse and slipped under the bottom. Tammy snatched it and opened the door and went back in. An old lady sat in a rocker by the fire. She deposited the cat, now normal-sized, in her lap and sat down in another rocker by the fire. The cat leaped over, curled up in her lap and started purring. Tammy tentatively petted it. The purring grew to the size of a lion's roar.
"I'm not sure I like this world," Tammy said. "It's too scary and unpredictable."
Matt was rocking in the chair beside her. HE got up, and opened the curtain of the window beside the old woman. "Feel anything?" he asked. The whole house was shaking as if there were an earthquake or something.
She looked out the window. Trees were bouncing past. "The house is moving," she observed, feeling stupid as she spoke for stating the obvious.
"Chicken leg," Matt said, "that's my guess. I think we've just had the honor and privilege of stumbling into the lair of the Baba Yaga. Madam," he continued, turned to address the old woman. May I ask your name?"
""You may ask, but I may not answer. You may beg, but I may not spare you. First I will ask you a riddle. If you answer correctly, I will spare your lives this time. If not, I will eat you for dinner." She rubbed her hands together.
"What is your riddle, Madam?" asked Matt, calmly.
"What walks on four legs and then on two legs and then on three?"
"Oh, that's an easy one, Madam. That's man, who crawls as a baby, walks on two legs and a man, and uses a cane as and old man. Now I get to ask you a question. What is the one thing that it is most important for us to know or do next?"
"Since there are two of you, and since each of you has passed a test of sorts, I will give you two answers. Three, really. What you need to know is that your world is at a turning point and if it is not turned back, there will be no turning back and all will be lost. What you need to do is continue as you are, for the path before you is the answer to saving the world. And finally, If you don't leave immediately, I will eat you anyway. And next time, I may eat you without warning."
Matt got up and calmly walked through the wall beside his chair. Tammy got up, set the cat on the Baba Yaga's lap and calmly walked into the wall and fell to the floor. She got up, and tried again and fell to the floor again.
"It's like swimming," the Baba Yaga said, kindly. You know you can dive into the water and it will open to let you through. It is only your preconception that keeps you inside." She picked up a very large fork, dropped the cat to the floor and walked toward Tammy cackling madly.
"Water," Tammy thought. "It's just like water." She squeezed through, but it didn't feel like water. It was more like disintegrating and reintegrating, like grinding through sand with all her molecules. Not that she knew what that felt like, really, but that's what she imagined.
The cat squeezed through after her, its claws unsheathed and it's mouth open. Saliva dripped from its tongue. And the house hopped after her on one huge yellow scaly chicken leg.
"Fly," screamed Matt, "fly!"
Tammy flew. Matt flew beside her. The cat flew too, but after a little ways, it turned and flew back to the house and walked through the walls.
"We're not where we started, how will we find our way back?"
"There's the tree with the ribbon, way over there."
"We didn't tie the ribbon on the tree. We tied it on the flower."
"I know, but the mid is a very strange place. Let's go check it out."
In an instant, they were there. "How'd we get here so fast?" Tammy asked.
"Intention." In Mearddth, you don't really haev to walk or fly, you just arrive where you want to be. See, here's the flower, come on, let's go." In an isntant, he was gone.
"Intention," Tammy repeated herself. And there she was, sitting on the seat staring at the magic eye mandala portal picture. The clock said the same time as when they'd left.
"Did you intend that, too?" Tammy asked, pointing at the clock. "Of course. We need the extra credits in Science and English to help bring up the zero Miss Wingsley is going to give us in Math today. So quick, we've got a half hour, do you want to type or dictate?"
"Let's take turns, 15 minutes each. But one thing, first. Can you die in a dream?"
"Well, yeah, actually you can," Matt said, somewhat sheepishly. "I'll tell you about it later."
"Matt, check this one out," Tammy hissed across the table.
Matt was standing up with his head twisted funny counting quietly to himself. "Wait a minute," he said, "I'm right in the middle of something, here, try this and then I'll see what you found." Tammy stood up and camer around the table. Matt didn't look at her. "Stare at this picture and count slowly to 60 and then stare at the white page next to it." The picture was of a green, orange and black flag. She started counting and staring, staring and counting. "Oh, WOW!" Matt breathed, "that's cool!"
"I knew that's what would happen," Tammy said, after she finished her couldn't, I could tell becaese the colors were exactly opposite. Of course it would be red white and blue, what else would it be? But it it very cool. I can still see it on the wall and on the table."
"Do you know why it happens?"
"Your eyeballs get tired of looking at orange, green and black?"
"That's pretty much it--you use up all the chemicals needed to see those colors so when you stop looking, you see the opposite. It's pretty cool."
"It sure is, now check this one out." Matt came over and looked into Tammy's book.
"Oh, cool, it's one of those magic eye things."
"Yeah, but check it out, dude, it's not just any magic eye. This is really fun!"
"I thought you said detention was not your ideas of fun! Sometimes I'm kinda slow at this."
"I usually get them right away. Hey, I didn't know Mr. Sorensen and Mr. Beakley would give us such a fun project--and extra credit in both science and English. I didn't know what to expect. I've never been to detention before. Keep trying, this is the best one I've ever seen."
"Never been to detention? That's because you're such a goody-goody."
"Am not!"
"Are, too! Oh! I got it. It's a mandala, a mandala within a mandala. I think it's a portal. Maybe we can use it to travel."
"How?"
Matt looked at his watch. Okay, we've got half an hour. First we need to prop the book up. OK, ready, hold my hand."
"Here, in the library? We'll get in trouble."
"Just do it." He snatched her hand. "OK, now we both unfocus and stare at it until it's in focus. Find the mandala and stare at the center. It's a portal, works sort of like a black hole, only gentler. I'm not sure where we're going to come out, so we should remember to look and see where the portal is on the other end. It may not even go Mearddth, and some of the other worlds having shifting topography. Even Mearddth does, sometimes. Oh, he said, here we are. It's a flower on this end, and it looks like all the other flowers. The others may be portals too, but may not take us back to the library."
"Here, tie this ribbon around it carefully," Tammy said, pulling it out of her hair. Sheep and goats grazed on the far side of the field. "I hope none of them eats our portal," Tammy said, nervously, pointing. "Maybe we should just go back. We're going to get lost, or get in trouble."
"Nah," Matt said, "Portals are just other entries into the dreamworld. Our bodies are back in the library staring at the book and if we don't show up, Sorensen or Beakley will just shake us gently and we'll wake up. We may be a little disoriented, but it'll be fine."
The funnel-shaped flower with the deep purple center stood about ten feet from a tall pine. Beyond the pine, the ground sloped away to a meadow, and in the meadow was a small cabin. It looked deserted. "Let's go down there," Matt said, taking off at a run through the field. He lifted from the ground and began to fly, faster and faster, until he hovered right above the cabin. Laughing, Tammy followed him, leaping into the air and flying. It was such a rush of excitement to fly like that. She wanted to just fly and fly, over the hills and the distant peaks. Vaguely, she remembered that they had to go back. Besides, Matt seemed intent on something else. "Come here," he said, settling to the ground in front of the cabin. I want to show you something." With that, he stepped right through the cabin wall and disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared, coming through the wall in another place, as if it were made out of standing water, only he wasn't wet.
Tammy walked up to the cabin wall and knocked on it hard. It was solid as a newly peeled log. Rock hard. She knocked again. "Yes?" a voice said, a high girlish voice that sounded like an old woman pretending to be a girl. "Who is it?"
"Uh, it's me, Tammy Wilson, and Matt Martin is here, too. Who are you? Where are you?"
"I'm in here of course. Come on in, but don't let the cat out." Matt walked back through the wall. Tammy went and opened the front door and stuck her foot in front of a cat that was trying to escape. The cat bit her foot and then leaped over it. Tammy grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. It hissed and spit and suddenly got huge. Tammy managed to slam the door with the cat inside. The cat almost filled the entire room. And it was not happy. Its eyes were a malevolent red and its teeth were needle sharp and it was looking hungrily at Tammy.
It looked like it was now too big to get out the door. Tammy put her hand on the knob and carefully turned it. She zipped out and slammed the door. But the car shrunk to the size of a mouse and slipped under the bottom. Tammy snatched it and opened the door and went back in. An old lady sat in a rocker by the fire. She deposited the cat, now normal-sized, in her lap and sat down in another rocker by the fire. The cat leaped over, curled up in her lap and started purring. Tammy tentatively petted it. The purring grew to the size of a lion's roar.
"I'm not sure I like this world," Tammy said. "It's too scary and unpredictable."
Matt was rocking in the chair beside her. HE got up, and opened the curtain of the window beside the old woman. "Feel anything?" he asked. The whole house was shaking as if there were an earthquake or something.
She looked out the window. Trees were bouncing past. "The house is moving," she observed, feeling stupid as she spoke for stating the obvious.
"Chicken leg," Matt said, "that's my guess. I think we've just had the honor and privilege of stumbling into the lair of the Baba Yaga. Madam," he continued, turned to address the old woman. May I ask your name?"
""You may ask, but I may not answer. You may beg, but I may not spare you. First I will ask you a riddle. If you answer correctly, I will spare your lives this time. If not, I will eat you for dinner." She rubbed her hands together.
"What is your riddle, Madam?" asked Matt, calmly.
"What walks on four legs and then on two legs and then on three?"
"Oh, that's an easy one, Madam. That's man, who crawls as a baby, walks on two legs and a man, and uses a cane as and old man. Now I get to ask you a question. What is the one thing that it is most important for us to know or do next?"
"Since there are two of you, and since each of you has passed a test of sorts, I will give you two answers. Three, really. What you need to know is that your world is at a turning point and if it is not turned back, there will be no turning back and all will be lost. What you need to do is continue as you are, for the path before you is the answer to saving the world. And finally, If you don't leave immediately, I will eat you anyway. And next time, I may eat you without warning."
Matt got up and calmly walked through the wall beside his chair. Tammy got up, set the cat on the Baba Yaga's lap and calmly walked into the wall and fell to the floor. She got up, and tried again and fell to the floor again.
"It's like swimming," the Baba Yaga said, kindly. You know you can dive into the water and it will open to let you through. It is only your preconception that keeps you inside." She picked up a very large fork, dropped the cat to the floor and walked toward Tammy cackling madly.
"Water," Tammy thought. "It's just like water." She squeezed through, but it didn't feel like water. It was more like disintegrating and reintegrating, like grinding through sand with all her molecules. Not that she knew what that felt like, really, but that's what she imagined.
The cat squeezed through after her, its claws unsheathed and it's mouth open. Saliva dripped from its tongue. And the house hopped after her on one huge yellow scaly chicken leg.
"Fly," screamed Matt, "fly!"
Tammy flew. Matt flew beside her. The cat flew too, but after a little ways, it turned and flew back to the house and walked through the walls.
"We're not where we started, how will we find our way back?"
"There's the tree with the ribbon, way over there."
"We didn't tie the ribbon on the tree. We tied it on the flower."
"I know, but the mid is a very strange place. Let's go check it out."
In an instant, they were there. "How'd we get here so fast?" Tammy asked.
"Intention." In Mearddth, you don't really haev to walk or fly, you just arrive where you want to be. See, here's the flower, come on, let's go." In an isntant, he was gone.
"Intention," Tammy repeated herself. And there she was, sitting on the seat staring at the magic eye mandala portal picture. The clock said the same time as when they'd left.
"Did you intend that, too?" Tammy asked, pointing at the clock. "Of course. We need the extra credits in Science and English to help bring up the zero Miss Wingsley is going to give us in Math today. So quick, we've got a half hour, do you want to type or dictate?"
"Let's take turns, 15 minutes each. But one thing, first. Can you die in a dream?"
"Well, yeah, actually you can," Matt said, somewhat sheepishly. "I'll tell you about it later."
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
"You know what I hate, Tammy whispere...
Prologue: "It was all a Dream"
"You know what I hate?" Tammy whispered across the library table to Matt, "I hate it when you get to the end of the book and it says, 'and then they woke up and it was all a dream. That's so stupid."
"I know it," Matt agreed. "It ruins the whole book. Why do they do that?"
"I hate it when people tell me their dreams, too," Tammy said, with a faraway look in her eye, "They are so rambling and long and pointless."
"Okay, I'll remember not to tell you my dreams," Matt said.
"My dreams are pretty stupid. I'm either being chased through a long dark alley or falling through the sky. I always wake up just before i hit."
"I can't tell you this, but I just fly. I love to fly, it's so much fun. But I won't tell you about my dreams, because you think they're boring. Only mine aren't. They are wonderful They are like continuing stories. Always an adventure. And I'm magic."
"Magic. I don't believe in magic."
"I don't believe in magic either. Not in real life. But dreams are dreams, they're not exactly real in the ordinary way. You can be magic in dreams, why not? You can do anything in a dream if you want to."
"Anything?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, for one thing, I don't control my dreams. They just happen."
"I let mine happen too, most of the time. It's more interesting and fun that way. But I pay attention, and any time I need to or want to, I can take charge and shape the dream."
"You're full of bull dunky," Tammy said, a little too loudly.
Mrs. Weinhart looked over her half glasses and frowned. She was pretty lenient most of the time, as long as kids didn't get carried away. Tammy poked her head back into her book, but Matt gave her a little kick. "I'll show you," he whispered extra quietly, "I'll take you to Mearddth."
"Mearddth? Is that like laughter?"
"LOL. Sometimes! No, it's a dream world, one of many. It's my favorite one. I'll come get you tonight. Wherever you are, I'll find you and show you. If it's okay, only if it's okay."
"Well, I don't believe you a bit. I think you're teasing me. But if you can really take me someplace fun, that would be better than my stupid dreams. And then, we'll write a story about it."
"Yeah, and at the end, we'll say, 'and then they woke up, and it was just a dream.' All the kids will hate us."
"But it will be okay, because it was true." Tammy laughed out loud." Mrs. Weinhart looked over her glasses and down her nose at Tammy, who pretended to be reading her book. And then really was reading her book, until the bell rang. Matt winked at her.
1. The Thugs
Tammy was running down a dark alley. She was out of breath, her legs hurt, and the two men chasing her were gaining on her. She tried to run faster but couldn't. On and on she ran, scared, with no real hope of escaping. She was close to tears.
Suddenly, a boy dressed in a superhero suit jumped into the alley in front of her. "Halt," he said, handing her a sword.
"They've got guns, Matt," she said. "You can't sue a sword against guns."
"Sure you can," Matt said. "This one shoots rubber bullets. They hurt, but they don't kill anyone." He turned the sword sideways, sighted down lts length, and fired a couple or warning shots at the two thugs who had ducked behind a trash can."
"A sword that shoots rubber bullets? What are you nuts?"
"Sure I'm nuts, hadn't you noticed that before?" Matt strode toward the two men. "Who are you guys? Stand up and tell us who you are."
The two men stood up and stepped out from behind the trash can. Tammy gasped, "Mr. Sorensen, Mr. Beakley, what are you doing here? Why are you chasing me? You've been chasing me for months. I was really scared of you. Why are you carrying guns?"
Mr Sorensen lifted his gun, pointed it directly at Matt, and pulled the trigger. A stream of water hit Matt in the chest. Matt fell on the ground kicking his feet and laughing. Then he hopped back up. "These are spirit guides," he said, pointing to the two teachers. Science and English. They help navigate the dream world. You need good balance. You need to know black holes. And you need to understand poetry. They've been trying to tell you how to dream."
"Black holes? POETRY? What are you talking about?"
"Metaphor," said Mr. Beakley. "Dreams are the ultimate metaphor. Or, at least can be."
"You guys aren't making any sense."
"Who said we needed to make sense?" asked Mr. Sorensen. "Do black holes make sense? Do quarks?"
"Look," said Mr. Beakly, pointing to a large puddle, an old Model T.
Matt reached into the puddle and tugged on the car, pulling it out. It was old, dilapidated, rusty and looked as if it would soon collapse into a heap of rubble.
"Our ride to Mearddth," Matt said, "We're going to Mearddth, want to come?"
"Nah, we've got other fish to fry right now. We're going to see if we can catch some of your friends and if so, we'll bring them along later." said Mr. Sorensen.
"I hope they aren't as slow--and fast--as you were, Tammy. We were getting worried."
"come on, Tammy, get in," Matt said. "Let's get going,"
Tammy looked skeptically at the old rust bucket, but it wasn't old any more, it was shiny and new and with fresh rubber on the tires and highly polished brass appointments. It wasn't a Model T any more, but a --- . She wasn't sure how she knew that, but decided not to worry about it. She opened the door on smooth well-oiled hinges and sat down on plush leather seats. Matt drove down through the alley, then pulled the gear shift hard toward him and the car took to the air. "Wheee," Tammy shouted, looking down as the alley and city building fell away. She was full of happiness and excitement, happier than she every felt before. They were going on an adventure. And it was fun.
The city faded into the distance behind them and they flew for the simple joy of flying. "We don't really need the car," Matt said, "that was just to give you confidence." He dove out the door and flew along beside the car, which kept going. "Come on out, the air is fine." He took her by the hand and the car was gone. They were flying.
"This is just like Peter Pan," Tammy said. The she looked down. She immediately began to fall, plummeting toward the ground.
Matt tugged on her arm, "Fly!" he said.
"I don't know how." The ground hurtled closer.
"Come on, follow me." she continued to fall. He yanked a little folded piece of plastic out of his pocket and it inflated into a white life preserver. He handed it to Tammy.
"Thanks," she said, floating skyward. "Phew. I was about to crash. You saved me. Again."
"Again?"
"Yeah, remember those thugs?"
"Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Beakley? They're our teachers, remember?"
"Only after you came. Before that, they were trying to kill me."
"Not exactly. Listen, you need to learn to fly. It's an important skill. But I guess I was stupid to try to teach you way up here." They got back in the old car, which was suspended in space and had started to rust again and disintegrate. Immediately, the rust started fading and the paint got shinier and blacker. Matt drove it down to a grassy meadow full of wildflowers. There were snow-covered mountains around the sides of the meadow. A little stream wound through the meadow.
"This place is totally perfect. Almost perfect. It'd be perfect if there was a little waterfall just there and a grove of trees just there." As she pointed, a waterfall appeared, a thin cascade with a long drop at the bottom. And beside it, a grove of baobabs. "Perfect," she said.
"OK, look, we're going to fly just one foot off the ground, float. If you lose confidence, you can just drop down."
"But how?"
"Just step up. You just have to know you can do it, and you can." He held out his hand and she stepped into the air and floated. They floated over the grass and through the baobabs. The baobabs were full of monkeys who swung from branch to branch, following them. One held out a banana at the top of a tree and Tammy floated up and took it.
"Can I eat it?" She asked.
"Sure! What does it taste like?"
"Rainbows. Sherbet. Lemon meringue pie. Like a symphony. Here, try it."
"Hmmm, pumpkin pie. Chocolate milk. hey, it tastes like a banana, only sweeter. Don't look down."
Tammy immediately looked down. They had drifted far above the baobabs, and Tammy began to fall toward their jagged branches.
"Fly," Matt shouted, "Fly! Float. Let go, you can do it." But Tammy continued to fall. Matt flew below her and broke her fall with his arms, slowing her fall. The monkeys gathered in the branches below her and caught her as she fell, passing her from one to the next. Several of them tossed her into the air again. "Fly!" shouted Matt, and she did. She flew up and down and did a couple somersaults and loop-de-loops and back flips.
"I think I've got it!"
"Good, is it fun?"
"Yeah, it's fabulous, never anything funner ever! Wheeeee!"
Matt flew along beside her. "Remember what this feels like. Remember how fun it is. Remember how easy it is. One of the difficult things about Mearddth is remembering. It's hard to remember. You have to pay attention."
"Yahoo, whooopeee!" shouted Tammy. "How could I forget this? It's the opposite of falling. Falling is scary and horrible. Flying is exhilarating and fun. Yahooooooooo!"
"I thought you said dreams were boring and you didn't want to hear about them," Matt whispered to Tammy during Math. Miss. Wingsley was writing some algebraic formulas on the board. She had her back to them.
"I just asked what you dreamed last night. I was wondering if you had the same dream I had."
"About the flying car and the monkeys that tossed you out of the baobab?"
"Yeah, that one, was it real?"
"Real, what's real? Whadddya mean?"
"I mean did you and I really have the same dream about flying and stuff."
"I dreamed about you. And a field with mountains and a waterfall. Did you dream about me?"
"Yeah, I think you were wearing a superman suit, at least in the beginning." When Tammy said the word "Superman," her voice squeaked incredulously and Miss Wingsley spun and winged her in the head with an eraser.
"No talking--or squeaking--in class, Miss Wilson," she said to Tammy, as Tammy rubbed the spot on her head where the eraser had hit. She was coughing in a cloud of chalk dust.
"Yes Miss Wingsley, I'm sorry Miss Wingsley," Tammy said automatically.
"Another peep out of you and you're going down to the office. Mr. Martin too."
Miss Wingsley turned her back and began writing on the board again. "If Two a plus three b plus 4 c equals y, and y equals 2x divided by n, and n equals a plus b plus c and x equals . . . "
"Peep!" Matt said is a high squeaky voice.
"Matt!" Tammy said, "we're gonna get detention now!"
"It's our ticket out of there," Matt said. "And besides, Sorenson and Beakley run detention. We might learn something. Come on, it'll be fun."
"Detention is not my idea of fun."
"You know what I hate?" Tammy whispered across the library table to Matt, "I hate it when you get to the end of the book and it says, 'and then they woke up and it was all a dream. That's so stupid."
"I know it," Matt agreed. "It ruins the whole book. Why do they do that?"
"I hate it when people tell me their dreams, too," Tammy said, with a faraway look in her eye, "They are so rambling and long and pointless."
"Okay, I'll remember not to tell you my dreams," Matt said.
"My dreams are pretty stupid. I'm either being chased through a long dark alley or falling through the sky. I always wake up just before i hit."
"I can't tell you this, but I just fly. I love to fly, it's so much fun. But I won't tell you about my dreams, because you think they're boring. Only mine aren't. They are wonderful They are like continuing stories. Always an adventure. And I'm magic."
"Magic. I don't believe in magic."
"I don't believe in magic either. Not in real life. But dreams are dreams, they're not exactly real in the ordinary way. You can be magic in dreams, why not? You can do anything in a dream if you want to."
"Anything?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, for one thing, I don't control my dreams. They just happen."
"I let mine happen too, most of the time. It's more interesting and fun that way. But I pay attention, and any time I need to or want to, I can take charge and shape the dream."
"You're full of bull dunky," Tammy said, a little too loudly.
Mrs. Weinhart looked over her half glasses and frowned. She was pretty lenient most of the time, as long as kids didn't get carried away. Tammy poked her head back into her book, but Matt gave her a little kick. "I'll show you," he whispered extra quietly, "I'll take you to Mearddth."
"Mearddth? Is that like laughter?"
"LOL. Sometimes! No, it's a dream world, one of many. It's my favorite one. I'll come get you tonight. Wherever you are, I'll find you and show you. If it's okay, only if it's okay."
"Well, I don't believe you a bit. I think you're teasing me. But if you can really take me someplace fun, that would be better than my stupid dreams. And then, we'll write a story about it."
"Yeah, and at the end, we'll say, 'and then they woke up, and it was just a dream.' All the kids will hate us."
"But it will be okay, because it was true." Tammy laughed out loud." Mrs. Weinhart looked over her glasses and down her nose at Tammy, who pretended to be reading her book. And then really was reading her book, until the bell rang. Matt winked at her.
1. The Thugs
Tammy was running down a dark alley. She was out of breath, her legs hurt, and the two men chasing her were gaining on her. She tried to run faster but couldn't. On and on she ran, scared, with no real hope of escaping. She was close to tears.
Suddenly, a boy dressed in a superhero suit jumped into the alley in front of her. "Halt," he said, handing her a sword.
"They've got guns, Matt," she said. "You can't sue a sword against guns."
"Sure you can," Matt said. "This one shoots rubber bullets. They hurt, but they don't kill anyone." He turned the sword sideways, sighted down lts length, and fired a couple or warning shots at the two thugs who had ducked behind a trash can."
"A sword that shoots rubber bullets? What are you nuts?"
"Sure I'm nuts, hadn't you noticed that before?" Matt strode toward the two men. "Who are you guys? Stand up and tell us who you are."
The two men stood up and stepped out from behind the trash can. Tammy gasped, "Mr. Sorensen, Mr. Beakley, what are you doing here? Why are you chasing me? You've been chasing me for months. I was really scared of you. Why are you carrying guns?"
Mr Sorensen lifted his gun, pointed it directly at Matt, and pulled the trigger. A stream of water hit Matt in the chest. Matt fell on the ground kicking his feet and laughing. Then he hopped back up. "These are spirit guides," he said, pointing to the two teachers. Science and English. They help navigate the dream world. You need good balance. You need to know black holes. And you need to understand poetry. They've been trying to tell you how to dream."
"Black holes? POETRY? What are you talking about?"
"Metaphor," said Mr. Beakley. "Dreams are the ultimate metaphor. Or, at least can be."
"You guys aren't making any sense."
"Who said we needed to make sense?" asked Mr. Sorensen. "Do black holes make sense? Do quarks?"
"Look," said Mr. Beakly, pointing to a large puddle, an old Model T.
Matt reached into the puddle and tugged on the car, pulling it out. It was old, dilapidated, rusty and looked as if it would soon collapse into a heap of rubble.
"Our ride to Mearddth," Matt said, "We're going to Mearddth, want to come?"
"Nah, we've got other fish to fry right now. We're going to see if we can catch some of your friends and if so, we'll bring them along later." said Mr. Sorensen.
"I hope they aren't as slow--and fast--as you were, Tammy. We were getting worried."
"come on, Tammy, get in," Matt said. "Let's get going,"
Tammy looked skeptically at the old rust bucket, but it wasn't old any more, it was shiny and new and with fresh rubber on the tires and highly polished brass appointments. It wasn't a Model T any more, but a --- . She wasn't sure how she knew that, but decided not to worry about it. She opened the door on smooth well-oiled hinges and sat down on plush leather seats. Matt drove down through the alley, then pulled the gear shift hard toward him and the car took to the air. "Wheee," Tammy shouted, looking down as the alley and city building fell away. She was full of happiness and excitement, happier than she every felt before. They were going on an adventure. And it was fun.
The city faded into the distance behind them and they flew for the simple joy of flying. "We don't really need the car," Matt said, "that was just to give you confidence." He dove out the door and flew along beside the car, which kept going. "Come on out, the air is fine." He took her by the hand and the car was gone. They were flying.
"This is just like Peter Pan," Tammy said. The she looked down. She immediately began to fall, plummeting toward the ground.
Matt tugged on her arm, "Fly!" he said.
"I don't know how." The ground hurtled closer.
"Come on, follow me." she continued to fall. He yanked a little folded piece of plastic out of his pocket and it inflated into a white life preserver. He handed it to Tammy.
"Thanks," she said, floating skyward. "Phew. I was about to crash. You saved me. Again."
"Again?"
"Yeah, remember those thugs?"
"Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Beakley? They're our teachers, remember?"
"Only after you came. Before that, they were trying to kill me."
"Not exactly. Listen, you need to learn to fly. It's an important skill. But I guess I was stupid to try to teach you way up here." They got back in the old car, which was suspended in space and had started to rust again and disintegrate. Immediately, the rust started fading and the paint got shinier and blacker. Matt drove it down to a grassy meadow full of wildflowers. There were snow-covered mountains around the sides of the meadow. A little stream wound through the meadow.
"This place is totally perfect. Almost perfect. It'd be perfect if there was a little waterfall just there and a grove of trees just there." As she pointed, a waterfall appeared, a thin cascade with a long drop at the bottom. And beside it, a grove of baobabs. "Perfect," she said.
"OK, look, we're going to fly just one foot off the ground, float. If you lose confidence, you can just drop down."
"But how?"
"Just step up. You just have to know you can do it, and you can." He held out his hand and she stepped into the air and floated. They floated over the grass and through the baobabs. The baobabs were full of monkeys who swung from branch to branch, following them. One held out a banana at the top of a tree and Tammy floated up and took it.
"Can I eat it?" She asked.
"Sure! What does it taste like?"
"Rainbows. Sherbet. Lemon meringue pie. Like a symphony. Here, try it."
"Hmmm, pumpkin pie. Chocolate milk. hey, it tastes like a banana, only sweeter. Don't look down."
Tammy immediately looked down. They had drifted far above the baobabs, and Tammy began to fall toward their jagged branches.
"Fly," Matt shouted, "Fly! Float. Let go, you can do it." But Tammy continued to fall. Matt flew below her and broke her fall with his arms, slowing her fall. The monkeys gathered in the branches below her and caught her as she fell, passing her from one to the next. Several of them tossed her into the air again. "Fly!" shouted Matt, and she did. She flew up and down and did a couple somersaults and loop-de-loops and back flips.
"I think I've got it!"
"Good, is it fun?"
"Yeah, it's fabulous, never anything funner ever! Wheeeee!"
Matt flew along beside her. "Remember what this feels like. Remember how fun it is. Remember how easy it is. One of the difficult things about Mearddth is remembering. It's hard to remember. You have to pay attention."
"Yahoo, whooopeee!" shouted Tammy. "How could I forget this? It's the opposite of falling. Falling is scary and horrible. Flying is exhilarating and fun. Yahooooooooo!"
"I thought you said dreams were boring and you didn't want to hear about them," Matt whispered to Tammy during Math. Miss. Wingsley was writing some algebraic formulas on the board. She had her back to them.
"I just asked what you dreamed last night. I was wondering if you had the same dream I had."
"About the flying car and the monkeys that tossed you out of the baobab?"
"Yeah, that one, was it real?"
"Real, what's real? Whadddya mean?"
"I mean did you and I really have the same dream about flying and stuff."
"I dreamed about you. And a field with mountains and a waterfall. Did you dream about me?"
"Yeah, I think you were wearing a superman suit, at least in the beginning." When Tammy said the word "Superman," her voice squeaked incredulously and Miss Wingsley spun and winged her in the head with an eraser.
"No talking--or squeaking--in class, Miss Wilson," she said to Tammy, as Tammy rubbed the spot on her head where the eraser had hit. She was coughing in a cloud of chalk dust.
"Yes Miss Wingsley, I'm sorry Miss Wingsley," Tammy said automatically.
"Another peep out of you and you're going down to the office. Mr. Martin too."
Miss Wingsley turned her back and began writing on the board again. "If Two a plus three b plus 4 c equals y, and y equals 2x divided by n, and n equals a plus b plus c and x equals . . . "
"Peep!" Matt said is a high squeaky voice.
"Matt!" Tammy said, "we're gonna get detention now!"
"It's our ticket out of there," Matt said. "And besides, Sorenson and Beakley run detention. We might learn something. Come on, it'll be fun."
"Detention is not my idea of fun."
Breast Reduction
I dreamed I had breast reduction surgery and my breasts turned out small and pert like a young girl's, like mine were when I was 12 and a half. (Probably caused by the report of Heidi's surgery.)
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
LOST: Radiation without Protection
LOST: Radiation without Protection
I am driving on my way to have radiation treatment for some condition I have. The radiation treatment is very narrow and specific, and the rest of me is going to be carefully protected with lead sheeting. I am driving in the countryside, out in farmlands and open fields, and cannot find the right turns. I end up driving into a cave, pushing my way through thick billows of plastic ballooning into the inner recesses of a cave where there is a radiation clinic, but it is the wrong one. They prepare me for treatment anyway, and I am sitting beside two men who are having treatment in their boxers--I'm in a gown. no lead sheeting is being used and the treatment seems generalized and the two men are sitting side by side. They keep getting surge after surge after surge of treatment. I am very frightened and go back and ask the nurse why no lead sheeting is being used. She says this is pert of the synergistic affects of their treatment. I want to escape, but I don't know where the woman has put my clothes. I am determined to escape, but feel as if I am held hostage. There is some flurry of confused activity and I seem to be escaping. I think I am driving away . . . but I wake up before any of this last part seems clear.
I think this dream is about my fears of having dental radiation and my desire to "escape" from doctor Jennings who wants to radiate me. Since Radiation might cause further growth of my tumor or more tumors, I don't want to risk it. There can be an inherited tendency to acquire Meningiomas with a sensitivity to X-rays and since my mother and I both have/had them, I worry that radiation (X-rays) might cause additional growth or new growths. I want to avoid X-rays AND anyone who wants to force them on me.
I am driving on my way to have radiation treatment for some condition I have. The radiation treatment is very narrow and specific, and the rest of me is going to be carefully protected with lead sheeting. I am driving in the countryside, out in farmlands and open fields, and cannot find the right turns. I end up driving into a cave, pushing my way through thick billows of plastic ballooning into the inner recesses of a cave where there is a radiation clinic, but it is the wrong one. They prepare me for treatment anyway, and I am sitting beside two men who are having treatment in their boxers--I'm in a gown. no lead sheeting is being used and the treatment seems generalized and the two men are sitting side by side. They keep getting surge after surge after surge of treatment. I am very frightened and go back and ask the nurse why no lead sheeting is being used. She says this is pert of the synergistic affects of their treatment. I want to escape, but I don't know where the woman has put my clothes. I am determined to escape, but feel as if I am held hostage. There is some flurry of confused activity and I seem to be escaping. I think I am driving away . . . but I wake up before any of this last part seems clear.
I think this dream is about my fears of having dental radiation and my desire to "escape" from doctor Jennings who wants to radiate me. Since Radiation might cause further growth of my tumor or more tumors, I don't want to risk it. There can be an inherited tendency to acquire Meningiomas with a sensitivity to X-rays and since my mother and I both have/had them, I worry that radiation (X-rays) might cause additional growth or new growths. I want to avoid X-rays AND anyone who wants to force them on me.
Monday, January 21, 2008
3 Dreams 080121: Rude Listener and untold story, Crossing the ra
3 Dreams 080121
Rude Listener and untold story, Crossing the raging torrent, the girls
1)The Rude Listener(s) and the Untold Story
I am not going to do any dreamwork at this point because I need to record the other dreams and have other things to do--but I believe that the messages of the dream are clear:
2)Crossing the Raging Torrent:
I have lost some of this dream while recording the last.
3)The girls
OK, now I've forgotten this one entirely. All I remember is that it was about the girls [my daughters] (or they were in it) and there was at least some happiness in it.
Rude Listener and untold story, Crossing the raging torrent, the girls
1)The Rude Listener(s) and the Untold Story
At a party, someone asks me to tell a story. Somehow, I can't remember exactly how now, he asks for a specific story, the story of the storm over the Hundred Acre Swamp. He seems to know something about the story, for as I begin to tell it and mistakenly say "thousand Acre Swamp," he corrects me just as I am correcting myself. He's heard the story before or was somehow involved. I am setting up the story:
I have inherited (in the dream) a really lot of money and have taken up the habit of giving small gifts of $500 out somewhat randomly. I had decided to give $500 to the man who asked me to tell the story, but he is gone and so is everyone else and I have given no one the $500. So I have two things to be sad and frustrated about.
This dream became semi-lucid near the end. And while I was dreaming it I was also remembering other related things and questioning my actions. But I did not get that lucid "rush" or take any control of the path of the dream. I was a naturalist and camp counselor at Second Home Nature Center. I had 22 campers that session, twenty 4th and 5th grade boys, most of which had been there before and were itching for a change, one blind boy, Rin,and a girl from France who spoke almost no English. My assistant was a brand new totally green intern. During part of the week, I also had the assistance of a volunteer, Trudy, who knew some French and spent one-on-one time with the French girl helping her to understand what was going on. But Trudy had health issues and was unable to come on the Thursday adventure.
Garrett had dreamed up a new plan for this year. We would drive to the far side of the Hundred Acre Swamp in a park truck with the kids in the back, drop them off at one side with maps and compasses, and tell them some cockamamie story that induced them to find the tips of certain peninsulas that poked out into the swamp where there was buried treasure and clues to the next treasure but forced them to cross and recross the center of the swamp using the map and compass skills we had perfected in yesterday's Orienteering adventure. We would also be learning about the nature found in a swamp--water snakes, snapping turtles, duckweed, etc.
We had tested the hike with adult counselors and naturalists, and then taken several other groups out. This was the last group of the summer, and the worst, by far. And the biggest. Garrett had gone against his own rules and allowed extra kids to register. It took two trucks to cart us and our gear to the far side of the swamp. We tumbled out, with rubber bands around our pant cuffs to keep out the leeches and backpacks with lunches, supplies and first aid kits.
At this point, the person who had asked me to tell the story stood up, turned and headed toward the bathroom I stopped my story to wait for his return. The others on the couch with him and on chairs around the room look at me expectantly, as if they expect me to continue, but I think I should wait for the one who asked for the story. We wait a while. Everyone waits. But the guy doesn't return and after a while, the conversation turns elsewhere. Eventually, everyone gets up and leaves and I am sitting there with my untold story. I feel sad and slightly bereft and somewhat put out. Annoyed. We hadn't even gotten to the good part of the story yet, where the lightning struck and the trees fell down and the wind lashed and the rain fell.Garrett had dreamed up a new plan for this year. We would drive to the far side of the Hundred Acre Swamp in a park truck with the kids in the back, drop them off at one side with maps and compasses, and tell them some cockamamie story that induced them to find the tips of certain peninsulas that poked out into the swamp where there was buried treasure and clues to the next treasure but forced them to cross and recross the center of the swamp using the map and compass skills we had perfected in yesterday's Orienteering adventure. We would also be learning about the nature found in a swamp--water snakes, snapping turtles, duckweed, etc.
We had tested the hike with adult counselors and naturalists, and then taken several other groups out. This was the last group of the summer, and the worst, by far. And the biggest. Garrett had gone against his own rules and allowed extra kids to register. It took two trucks to cart us and our gear to the far side of the swamp. We tumbled out, with rubber bands around our pant cuffs to keep out the leeches and backpacks with lunches, supplies and first aid kits.
I have inherited (in the dream) a really lot of money and have taken up the habit of giving small gifts of $500 out somewhat randomly. I had decided to give $500 to the man who asked me to tell the story, but he is gone and so is everyone else and I have given no one the $500. So I have two things to be sad and frustrated about.
I am not going to do any dreamwork at this point because I need to record the other dreams and have other things to do--but I believe that the messages of the dream are clear:
- I need to tell that particular story (in a Sissy book and elsewhere)
- I need to tell my stories in general before I die of old age. (Get my books written and out there)
- I need to make charitable donations and take care of financial matters
2)Crossing the Raging Torrent:
I have lost some of this dream while recording the last.
We are walking somewhere we need to go on a path through the woods. We come upon a raging stream/creek--an uncrossable torrent where we expected an easy crossing. At this point I become semi lucid. We turn left and walk upstream. I am questioning if this is the right choice, especially since the land rises sharply and becomes rocky until the stream/creek is running through a deep gorge with cliffs on either side of the stream. At the top of one steep rise is a flat place with a log across the gorge. It is very teetery. We are going to cross it and are in the process of doing so when I wake up thinking we are making it safely across and disappointed not to see it happen and reach our goal.
I think this dream might be related to the last dream--the raging torrent is all of life's distractions that seem to build and build and keep me from accomplishing my goals. I need to concentrate and get to work!3)The girls
OK, now I've forgotten this one entirely. All I remember is that it was about the girls [my daughters] (or they were in it) and there was at least some happiness in it.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Eating Rats
We have three packages of meat, and we open eat the first one--it looks like a rat but it tastes okay and we eat it anyway. One is small and I tell Keith, poking at it, that I don't want to eat it because it looks like a mouse with the fur still on. The third package looks like a rat and still has its fur, but worst yet, it is still breathing. It is a very large Norway rat, except it also has some thick, soft--very soft, dense fur on it's tail. I pick it up and it come to. It jumps down and runs into the living room. I think it is hungry and grab a cheery tomato, which it begins to ravenously eat. I pick it and the tomato up and put them back on the table. I am wondering frantically what kind of container we can put the rat in until we decide what to do with it. Meanwhile, I suggest that the rat might like to eat the dead mouse. Keith starts throwing the mouse at the rat, not to hit it, but to make it available, but the rat is running around the table and Keith keeps missing. Keith seems to be a bit afraid of the rat, I wasn't at first and picked it up several times, but it is a very large rat and I start being afraid of it. I wonder if it was a wild rat. It looks like one!
12-22-07 No dreamwork right now, too much to do.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Dreaming about painting
I keep dreaming about painting. I dreamed extensively about it last night and was very excited about my dream ideas when I woke up, but immediately forgot them--wahn. The night before last, I dreamed I was painting a water scene. There was a twisting bay or inlet with five rowboats arranged in the foreground in a slightly haphazard but pleasing way. Each boat had a man in it fishing--some were standing and some sitting, The boats were all white, but each had a different colored stripe just under the bow. The trees in the background were bright with autumn colors. (But in the dream, the colors of the boat stripes didn't really color coordinate with the scenery--one stripe was a sort of industrial pink and another a sort of industrial grey-blue.)
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Fallen
Tuesday, September 11, 2007 (911!)
Last night I dreamed:
We had a stained glass flower on the windowsill in the study. It was yellow, maybe a poppy but probably an evening primrose—primarily the blossom, little edges of the leaves. It has fallen down behind the desk and I am explaining to Biker Buddy that it was irretrievable, but hoping he can somehow rescue it.
I also dreamed that:
Biker Buddy had sex with another woman and is telling me about it as calmly, casually and enthusiastically as he talks about beer and other women’s breasts. I amwondering, in the dream, why I wasn’t planning on divorcing him immediately. In real life, I would! (And I know that in the dream!)
I woke up upset and scared.
and wrote this poem:
Fallen
Behind the massive, immovable desk, a stained
glass evening primrose falls, shining yellow, small
sun, falls from the windowsill and disappears.
Irretrievable, I say, hoping I am wrong and you
will somehow rescue it.
But you won’t listen,
telling me instead, with the same enthusiasm
you have for beer and other women’s breasts,
that you have betrayed me with another woman.
When a primrose falls, it shatters.
Mary Stebbins Taitt
For Biker Buddy, from a dream!
070911 (911!), 1st
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The Extra Genital
Keith is naked and in a wheel chair. Steve and Sarah are there and upset and I finally see that there is a protrusion, a growth, in the center of his lower belly above his genitalia. I think at first it is his genitalia, before I look closely. A round ball of flesh with pointy protrusions tops a smooth column of flesh like a simple medieval mace (or a slightly overgrown fancy penis, thicker, rounder and pointier at the tip, but shorter than a normal penis). We are rushing Keith to the hospital, although it seems to me that this growth must have been there a long time, in spite of the fact I've never seen it before. It seems so smooth and perfect and well-developed and healthy. We reassure Keith as we rush him toward the hospital, and I am at once worried and calm because for some reason it doesn't seem like that big a deal (although when I wake up I feel a little upset).
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Dream about Peter and the DeVries
I had a long, strange complcaited dream about you this morning, just before I woke. It was a very fluid ever-changing dream, but unfortunately, I now remember only small parts of it.
I dream that my family and I go to a restaurant where we'd never been before and are unlikely to go again, in some strange, faraway, out of the way place. They are having a special or something and we decide to stop. We get inside and lo and behold, who should we see but the entire DeVries family standing in line at the buffet. The line is long and stretches past a parge stone fireplace and you are all looking intently at something on the mantle. I shush my family and sneak over and place one hand on your shoulder (Peter) and one hand on Jonatha's shoulder (David is between you in line, Charlie behind Jonathan, your parents in front of you). You turn around to look at me and I laugh delightedly that we are all here in the same place together by some freak accident of fate. In this part of the dream, we are maybe me 12 or so?, you (Peter) a few years younger.
More stuff happens, I forget, exactly what, but at one point, I am am looking at you and you are standing alone in a blue shirt and khaki pants and look as if you are about 7 years old (younger than earlier). I feel a great fondness for you/attraction to you and feel strange about it, because you are so young.
I take my food and sit down at a table in a very large room where there is no one else. I am the first one into the room and choose a large table and am imagining that you and everyone will come sit with me, but the scene cuts to a few minutes later and you and David and Charlie and Jonathan are sitting with Bob and Tom at a table by another large stone fireplace, all the way acorss the room. As far away as you can get from me. I am deeply hurt and offended. It's a boys only table and there is no room at the table for me.
Then I am sitting with my friend Pam who is older than me in "real life" now. We are both "old ladies" but you are still a child (maybe about 12?). You are still at the boys table, far across the room, more people have filled the space between us. You are a boy, you are far away, and you are young and I am so old. There is this great gap between us that is too far to bridge. I wake up feeling sad, somewhat bereft.
I dream that my family and I go to a restaurant where we'd never been before and are unlikely to go again, in some strange, faraway, out of the way place. They are having a special or something and we decide to stop. We get inside and lo and behold, who should we see but the entire DeVries family standing in line at the buffet. The line is long and stretches past a parge stone fireplace and you are all looking intently at something on the mantle. I shush my family and sneak over and place one hand on your shoulder (Peter) and one hand on Jonatha's shoulder (David is between you in line, Charlie behind Jonathan, your parents in front of you). You turn around to look at me and I laugh delightedly that we are all here in the same place together by some freak accident of fate. In this part of the dream, we are maybe me 12 or so?, you (Peter) a few years younger.
More stuff happens, I forget, exactly what, but at one point, I am am looking at you and you are standing alone in a blue shirt and khaki pants and look as if you are about 7 years old (younger than earlier). I feel a great fondness for you/attraction to you and feel strange about it, because you are so young.
I take my food and sit down at a table in a very large room where there is no one else. I am the first one into the room and choose a large table and am imagining that you and everyone will come sit with me, but the scene cuts to a few minutes later and you and David and Charlie and Jonathan are sitting with Bob and Tom at a table by another large stone fireplace, all the way acorss the room. As far away as you can get from me. I am deeply hurt and offended. It's a boys only table and there is no room at the table for me.
Then I am sitting with my friend Pam who is older than me in "real life" now. We are both "old ladies" but you are still a child (maybe about 12?). You are still at the boys table, far across the room, more people have filled the space between us. You are a boy, you are far away, and you are young and I am so old. There is this great gap between us that is too far to bridge. I wake up feeling sad, somewhat bereft.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
The Ejection Seat
Sara and Erwin are helping Keith and me chaperone a group of teenagers in a foreign country. Sara and Keith go to make some arrangements and are going to meet us back at the piazza, but the teens have a little rebellion and want to go back to the hotel after only a few minutes at the amusement park. Erwin and I agree to take them back but I am upset because I can't get a hold of Sara and Keith to let them know. Then we get lost on the way back to the hotel. I am riding in Erwin's car, which was sort of like his current car, but a convertible with the top down. Erwin pushes a button that activates an ejection seat and sends me catapulting through the air across a wall and into a mansion-like home on a hill. He takes off with the teens to go play. I am shaking hands with people and introducing myself in an embarassed way. None of the well-dressed people at the house seem surprised to see me. They are having a party, there are many guests and I am assumed ot be one of them. It is a huge mansion, though and so many hands to shake. I can't find my way out and had no idea how to get back to Keith and Sara to warn them not to go back to the piazza to meet us.
click image to view larger.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Don’t Read This Poem (An Invitation)
Don't Read This Poem (An Invitation)
My daughter calls from the other room; she's found a family dead.
All dead, all but one small baby hidden among the bedding. A family
is dead in my room too, leaving another orphaned baby.
Don't read this poem. My teachers told me, don't say that.
Don't mention you're writing a poem. As if the reader,
dear reader, won't notice. And don't say anything weird.
Over the top, they would say. There are rules in poetry.
I always seem to break them. Perhaps I also shouldn't mention
that I am writing this on red
paper. Blood red. What I picked from the scrap bin, coincidence
or synchronicity. By the time you see this, though, the red
will have turned to white the way a face loses its color in death.
Two families dead, two orphaned babies. But they aren't people.
We're in the animal-care rooms in the museum's basement.
The babies are mice, one tan, one maroon, both just starting
on the first hint of hair, eyes sealed shut. Orphaned.
Of course, they will die without their mothers; we all know that.
They're not weaned. But I am, so why the fuss?
Okay, I'm an orphan. But, I'm also a mother. I put the babies
in my blouse to nurse from my own breasts. Could you just not
read this? I know you'll disapprove, but that's what I did.
It's sort of circular, really, since I'm the orphan now.
But I'm sixty, my parents both dead at eighty-three. No infant, I.
In the dream, the babies grow to the size and shape of ferrets
and move inside my silk blouse like snakes, undulating, sinuous.
In my black velvet skirt and blood-red jacket, I hide myself
from everyone so these babies can nurse and live.
I am the orphan baby. I am the snake maiden, I am the mother,
I am the grandmother. I am as tiny as a newborn mouse
and I am the crone slipping into the grave.
But you knew all that already, and knew the dual nature
of my Geminian twins, the yin and yang of me. Even,
perhaps, the strange depths to which I'd sink to survive this grief.
But did you remember that you had a breast and milk
you could offer an orphan? If you've gotten this far,
you could hold me.
Mary Stebbins Taitt
070206c, 1st Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Here is the original dream:Nursing Orphans and Outside Approval, Dream Sunday, February 04, 2007
Sara and I are in animal care and discover that in two cages of mice in two separate rooms, the mother mouse and all the babies but one (each) are dead. She discovers one in one room and I discover the other in the other room. The babies are very small. They've just begun growing hair. One is yellowish tan and the other sort of maroon-colored. I take them into my blouse to nurse them at my own breasts so that they won't die.
The scene cuts to a huge science fair. I am the head judge or some other very important person. I am wearing a wine-colored velvet jacket, a long black velvet skirt and a wine & black silk blouse. The baby mice have grown to the size and shape of young ferrets and are living inside my blouse, not weaned yet. They move sinuously, bulging the blouse oddly. I worry about offending people with the snake-like babies nursing inside my beautiful clothes. I worry about it so much that I find a private place to sit, assist the babies in their nursing, and worry about what I should do.
This is the second dream in two nights that involve nurturing young of other species.
The dream poem I wrote yesterday was made of dreams from two different night—the monkey dream and rose petal dream were originally two separate dreams.
I don't see much potential in this dream for a poem. If the monkey dream was weird, this one is weirder and more "unacceptable."
Friday, December 08, 2006
Witnessing an execution; a wish for peace!
I am with a group of people, friends, and casual acquaintences. They are all people I care about, nice people, engaged friendly people. A sharp shooter steps up, takes aim, and kills one of my friends. I wake in a sweat, relieved it was "just a dream" or nightmare, a real dream, this morning. In some parts of the world, people, their friends, their relatives are killed regularly, by war, by genocide, and for them, it's like a nightmare, only real. Horrifyingly real.
I would like to join with Peter and other people supporting the idea of 2 minutes of peace at 8 PM on December 30, 2006. For more information, click here. Of course, I'd like more peace. Lots more.
Consider Peace. Consider the Alternative.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The Essences
We are sitting around a fire, at night, a number of us. The priestess-teacher uses my black hat to capture essences escaping from the fire to show the group. The first essences cling to the outside of my hat, colored dewdrops in brilliant rainbow hues, sparkling in the darkness. The second essences are tiny butterflies that take wing from inside my hat. They fly through us, as if we were ghosts and not human and solid, and as they enter us, we light up, glowing in rainbow colors. We feel like rainbows, full of light, color and joy. Then they fly upward into the darkness, rising like smoke, twisting through the faint silhouettes of trees. But essences of the rainbow butterflies remain in our hearts. And rainbow dewdrops still sparkle on my hat, reminding us.
We sometimes need to be reminded.
Mary Stebbins Taitt
From a dream
For Keith and Robert Moss
We sometimes need to be reminded.
Mary Stebbins Taitt
From a dream
For Keith and Robert Moss
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Dreamdark Deer
Dreamdark Deer, from a dream. By Mary Stebbins Taitt.I apologize for posting the same picture in several places, but I had to put it in the dream blog, too!
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Dreaming of the Honeymoon
Dreaming of the Honeymoon, by Mary Stebbins. Click image to view larger. My dream of a pleasant way to spend some honeymoon hours. Sunset in the dunes together! Photoart for Monday Artday.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
The Birth of Flight II
The Birth of Flight IID, dream version, by Mary Stebbins. Click on image to view larger.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
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