I'm playing football alone on some empty ground (like an empty field used as a car-park, or such). There isn't much grass underfoot, it's rocky/clay-like soil; and there are two tall trees (I think). I boot the ball high up in the air, very high, and it gets caught in an eddying wind current. The ball is whisked away like a kite, I don't see its path away from me this happens so fast. And losing it is a real shock.
I'm distraught about the lost ball; but my father appears to help me find it, his presence gratifies me instantly - I feel transported back to childhood, reassured by the protection of my Dad. We go together looking for the ball, and are on the other side of some barrier facing a choppy shore and pebbled beach. Walking along a raised (about a meter up from the beach) storm wall we're looking for the ball, I sense my father is behind me but he is somehow leading the search - showing me where to look. He makes me feel upbeat, he jokes and encourages me as we walk. I see the ball laying still on the raised walk out in front of me. Upon discovery my father congratulates and reminds me that everything was going to be alright; I'm ecstatic, I pick up the ball, turn, and while running back toward my father consider doing a reverse somersault off the wall on to the beach below.
The scene changes. I'm in a crowd and we're watching the live performance on the outdoor stage. The vocalist is a James Brown type figure, older than us, representative of a soul/funk generation, however he is hispanic - mexican, or latin american. He is wearing a black hat, like a fedora, and black clothes, and sings one of his classics, which is very very good. The song ends and he is in different clothes and a different hat - both this time grey - and he begins to speak. He rambles on about something and unsettles the crowd and the management. We think that his music is great; but his philosophies are crackpot and marginal - in the end they undermine his image as a great musician and I think he'd be so much more successful if he just kept them private. But then again, like James Brown, etc., he wouldn't be him if he didn't go off he rails like that. I notice his eyes set in the deep coffee colored face; the black pupils are very prominent against the bright whites of his eyes. They are subtly-but-strangely large (in proportion to the rest of the eye) and their appearance is like that of a snake's or big cat's - perhaps more a snake's. His eyes are drawing and I look at them for a while - impressed by the scary beauty.
The security guard who was unsettled by the singer's monologue and unobtrusively tried to restrain him, is, I think, the same person now posted in front of the elevator I'm waiting for. The outdoor stage was outside the entrance, part of the entrance, to a great tower block or skyscraper, and it is this building's elevator that I now wish to board. I'm going down. It's a short journey, only a floor or two. Having done what I wanted to do downstairs, I go back for the elevator - I think the guard is there again. Two men in suits, about my age, enter the elevator with me, they are chatting to each other in good spirits. As the doors close another two men run for the elevator. I don't do anything; but the two men inside cheerfully make a lunge for the doors to keep them open. I think the guard is inside also, he's helping them. The lift had just begun its ascent and is not flush with the floor, etc., and the two latecomers struggle to get in. They make it and exchange jokes with the two helpers. I'm not involved in the camaraderie.
I'm at the top of the tower. It's night time, or everything is black; there are many polished, glassy, surfaces and they reflect city lights. (I had done something at this juncture, but unfortunately I couldn't note the dream down upon waking and the information is lost to me now.)
With whatever it was done, I'm going back down in the elevator. The elevator doesn't take me all the way back down to the ground floor; it stops part way, and I have to lump it and use the building's grand stairwell to complete the descent. Exiting the elevator, I see the floor's interior is again different: not utilitarian and unadorned like the basement; not modern and glamorous like the top floor; but red brick and steel, lit by tungsten lights - like a multi-story carpark level, or the interior of a train-station. It's busy, people flow like a river through the wide channel (the hallway?) and weave through the brick columns. The floor plan must be a regular design as the columns, walls, walkways are all laid out in a geometric pattern. The elevator shafts are central veins running down the middle of the building, whereas the pedestrian spaces are located further from the centre. Thus, around the exit of elevators there are narrow corridors of calm - no one is walking there. The people seem to be all going the same way, a squared version of the Coriolis effect. It must be home time.
I'm in a rush leaving the elevator and want to work my way into the other rushing bodies flowing round the corners toward the stairwell in orderly fashion. I have hastily turned left (90 degrees left, as everything is geometric) out of the elevator, left again, around the corner, on my right there is a colonnade of brick columns. On the right side of the colonnade, traveling parallel, is the flow of people; on my side of the colonnade no-one. The colonnade stretches out in front of me for about 5m, where there must be another turn, or the entrance to the grand stairs, as the people are no longer parallel, but perpendicular to my view, i.e., as I look down the colonnade, at the end, they are moving from my right to my left. I rush down the vacant corridor created by the shielding colonnade to join the current of people as they enter the grand stairs.
I don't remember the journey but I'm back at the ground floor, or near it - I know just by a feeling of normality. I'm either at a cafe, or a large display: there is a counter with lots of products on it. It feels festive (in waking life it is now the Holiday season) like a special display or seasonal promotion, etc. On the large crescent shaped counter there are some products that look like luxury chocolates - yet the brand marks/logos make me think of luxury tobacco (before sleeping I had been looking at luxury brands of tobacco - I'm thinking of changing brands). The products are free. I can't believe this as the boxes they are in are luxurious and big (a significant loss to the producer/seller), and besides they are luxury brands - nothing this good is just given away. An old lady tells me that, yes they are free, really, take one... and I make my way over.
Lifting the lid of a gold box (either circular or crescent shaped) I see only a few chocolates left over - the offering has been ravaged by freeloaders - there is cocoa powder, a mud brown sand-dune, and on it the last few chocolates. I take some and move onto another box, on the lower shelf of the display counter. It too has been almost emptied - it seems I'm too late, but I'm not saddened. Conversely, I'm very happy that these luxury chocolates, these luxury brands are all here for me to take. I see more brand logos on the boxes (I recall a YSL logo - I saw YSL on a black packet of "YSL" cigarettes found during the pre-sleep research mentioned previously). Helping myself to the free luxury, these new brands of chocolate I had never heard of, I'm ecstatic. I wake.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Night of 22nd November 2009
The other special forces recruits are running ahead of me, I'm in the middle of the group - the first placed finishers of this operation will make the cut, everyone else will be gotten rid of. We are running on an open plain, and come upon the gas test. Ahead of us there is a white fog of noxious gas, front running recruits begin to fall away, unable to take the gassing (we have no protection, this is a test of endurance and pain suppression). This is my chance to win, I have to get through the gas, the others seem unable to endure it. I'm sprinting through the gas and feel it killing me but I continue. The large group has been decimated and I can't see anyone in front of me, beside me, around me. I sprint through the gas.
I've made it to the other side, and am met by a drill sergeant. He doesn't speak but shows me a ground schematic. Without rest, I know I have to ambush the people shown in the schematic. The ground is like a small park: there is a huge mound of dirt to my right, a few meters high, it seems man made, or an adaption of a natural formation; there is a tree in front of me. The schematic the drill sergeant handed me was faithful to these features, it was a blue sketch on white paper, a plan view of the mound with the location of the hostiles indicated by thick circles. Some other recruits trail in from behind, and I'm eager to get the mission completed and win. I instantly recognize I can climb up the tree and snipe the targets from above; I leap over-enthusiastically for the tree's lowest branch. It looked simple enough to scale, but for some reason I can't get my body up and on the first branch. I hang upside down, swinging like a pendulum - incapable of righting myself and getting up the tree. It's shocking that I can't get up the tree - I can't understand why it is so hard.
I'm scaling the mound, and have gotten to the top. I have my rifle ready. Peeping over, I take a look to see if I can spot my targets. I see 5 (I think, I can't properly recall) circles, what look like barrel, or keg, tops, partially buried in the ground - only the top 20% of them is protruding. The kegs are made of wooden planks with metal rings around the tops, and are not empty but seem to be full of thickly packed heavy soil. Behind each keg is a person.
For some reason, I am now looking down on them from a vantage point up in the tree. I have to clearly identify each person for the drill sergeant to make sure they are the people I'm supposed to assassinate. I have my weapon ready to present. In the dream I very clearly identified each one, and was shown a close up of each - and remember doing this very slowly, purposefully, and lucidly. However, the information is lost on me now (in waking). I think there were two middle aged men, two middle aged women (one with short brown hair), and a child. The adults were very portly. I do remember how harmless they seemed; and how in tune with nature they seemed. I think they may have been tending little wood fires in front of themselves. And perhaps the older ones were married (two couples).
I'm now at the picket fence, and the surroundings, although the same place, are different - like a seashore cliff. The previous drill park is behind me. There is long grass and sandy, rocky earth. It is warmer and I'm aware of the drop behind the unadorned wooden picket fence. There is a hole in the fence, and I leave through it, still in my military fatigues and with my sniper's gun.
We're in the ground floor of the apartment, in our beds. There are three of us: me, against the back wall facing the other two beds and the front door; and the other two backs against the wall - the front door is to the right of them (my left) and there is a window looking out on to the street behind the right person's bed. I think this is the down time before going out; but we are in bed. We are friendly and are having some banter. The person who's bed was nearest the door is out of bed and getting ready to go - goading me to get up and out of bed too. He is a young, early 20s, alabaster skinned skinny boy, with fair, brown and red, hair (the same color as the adults previously). I think he is gay, or homo-erotic in some way. He is wearing nothing but some black spandex pants, like tights but not see through, and is horsing around. He jumps on my bed - landing on his right side, in a sleeping position (legs bent, arms bent). I can see his testicles slightly protruding out between his legs/buttocks, and reach over with my left hand and squeeze them, reciprocating the horse play. He is instantly very angered by this and jumps up, shouting insults at me. I'm a bit confused. He is now near the door, still remonstrating at me.
The person in the other bed was a girl (a young woman), and she has made her way toward me. She hands me a red lighter (a cheap butane lighter, like the ones you buy at the convenience store). Suddenly the lighter is huge - the size of a television remote control (more like two side by side). The lighter is rested on the headboard of my bed, or on a bedside table, and is back to normal size. I wake.
{I woke very early in the morning; something that has never happened before}
I've made it to the other side, and am met by a drill sergeant. He doesn't speak but shows me a ground schematic. Without rest, I know I have to ambush the people shown in the schematic. The ground is like a small park: there is a huge mound of dirt to my right, a few meters high, it seems man made, or an adaption of a natural formation; there is a tree in front of me. The schematic the drill sergeant handed me was faithful to these features, it was a blue sketch on white paper, a plan view of the mound with the location of the hostiles indicated by thick circles. Some other recruits trail in from behind, and I'm eager to get the mission completed and win. I instantly recognize I can climb up the tree and snipe the targets from above; I leap over-enthusiastically for the tree's lowest branch. It looked simple enough to scale, but for some reason I can't get my body up and on the first branch. I hang upside down, swinging like a pendulum - incapable of righting myself and getting up the tree. It's shocking that I can't get up the tree - I can't understand why it is so hard.
I'm scaling the mound, and have gotten to the top. I have my rifle ready. Peeping over, I take a look to see if I can spot my targets. I see 5 (I think, I can't properly recall) circles, what look like barrel, or keg, tops, partially buried in the ground - only the top 20% of them is protruding. The kegs are made of wooden planks with metal rings around the tops, and are not empty but seem to be full of thickly packed heavy soil. Behind each keg is a person.
For some reason, I am now looking down on them from a vantage point up in the tree. I have to clearly identify each person for the drill sergeant to make sure they are the people I'm supposed to assassinate. I have my weapon ready to present. In the dream I very clearly identified each one, and was shown a close up of each - and remember doing this very slowly, purposefully, and lucidly. However, the information is lost on me now (in waking). I think there were two middle aged men, two middle aged women (one with short brown hair), and a child. The adults were very portly. I do remember how harmless they seemed; and how in tune with nature they seemed. I think they may have been tending little wood fires in front of themselves. And perhaps the older ones were married (two couples).
I'm now at the picket fence, and the surroundings, although the same place, are different - like a seashore cliff. The previous drill park is behind me. There is long grass and sandy, rocky earth. It is warmer and I'm aware of the drop behind the unadorned wooden picket fence. There is a hole in the fence, and I leave through it, still in my military fatigues and with my sniper's gun.
We're in the ground floor of the apartment, in our beds. There are three of us: me, against the back wall facing the other two beds and the front door; and the other two backs against the wall - the front door is to the right of them (my left) and there is a window looking out on to the street behind the right person's bed. I think this is the down time before going out; but we are in bed. We are friendly and are having some banter. The person who's bed was nearest the door is out of bed and getting ready to go - goading me to get up and out of bed too. He is a young, early 20s, alabaster skinned skinny boy, with fair, brown and red, hair (the same color as the adults previously). I think he is gay, or homo-erotic in some way. He is wearing nothing but some black spandex pants, like tights but not see through, and is horsing around. He jumps on my bed - landing on his right side, in a sleeping position (legs bent, arms bent). I can see his testicles slightly protruding out between his legs/buttocks, and reach over with my left hand and squeeze them, reciprocating the horse play. He is instantly very angered by this and jumps up, shouting insults at me. I'm a bit confused. He is now near the door, still remonstrating at me.
The person in the other bed was a girl (a young woman), and she has made her way toward me. She hands me a red lighter (a cheap butane lighter, like the ones you buy at the convenience store). Suddenly the lighter is huge - the size of a television remote control (more like two side by side). The lighter is rested on the headboard of my bed, or on a bedside table, and is back to normal size. I wake.
{I woke very early in the morning; something that has never happened before}
Friday, November 20, 2009
Night of 20th November 2009
{2 partials, there was a short waking moment between them I think}
I am getting ready to time travel - using the application in the iPhone. I'm aware there are three things, or stages, that I need to complete before pushing the button and time traveling. These are not related to the software, but to outside events. I'm sure the main event I'm trying to avoid is a nuclear explosion. I'm disorganized and trying to get ready on the fly; there is someone with me, maybe more than one person, but I can't remember them now. I miss the stages that I should've gone through before jumping, and the event I'm trying to time travel away from is beginning. We run for cover; although I should be worried, I'm not too worried - thinking I can just wing my way through. All the while it seems amazing to me that time travel is now possible, and through an application on an iPhone. As I'm tapping through the application menus, the phone is giving me security checks - checks to make sure the user is sure where they are jumping to, that they know what they are doing. The application is asking me questions, asking me to verify things, mostly about the future. Initially the answers can be scrapped together from my present knowledge of future plans, but soon enough the questions become so hard I wouldn't know them unless I'd already been to the future i.e., if I'd already been where I wanted to go. It is at this point I know I can't make the jump I wanted; and that this was more serious than I'd thought - missing my intended jump time has altered everything. I begin to think over "double jumping": jumping back in time to make the original jump in time. The mechanism baffles me, but seems profound.
The scene changes, we seem to be in a kind of museum or display room. There are two people with me. I still have the iPhone. There are three items of clothing on a brown circular plinth - like a cut off tree trunk, but not natural, the plinth is man-made I'm sure. The other two do something to the clothes on display; but I disagree and move them aside. I begin to neatly fold a down jacket as I'd learnt, in waking life, working in fashion. The other two are very skeptical of my skill and jeer a little. Feeling the pressure I concentrate even more, and fold the jacket slower and more purposefully - but I know I can do a professional job, unlike them. The two are won over and are impressed by my skill. As I'm laying the neatly folded jacket on the plinth for display, they come closer, right next to me, and perhaps lend a hand. I lay the jacket very deferently on the plinth, but the display of the three items isn't right. I begin to rearrange it.
All the while I've been aware of a music issue with the iPhone. There was a music playlist, however in the middle of the list was a solitary "random song." This song was always chosen at random from the library, and this choice changed all of the following playlist. I see it graphically as a planar (2D) input/output style figure. The playlist, displayed as a single line, approaches a square or rectangular box, hollow, upon hitting the box, the "random" song, the playlist line is shifted down one of either two playlist possibilities. The random track has changed the outcome, and we can never know in advance which.
{waking moment}
I'm in a bath tub outside, taking a shower. The naked fat girl approaches, she is very fat; but her face has a very profound beauty, and her skin is a lovely milky white. I sense she is some kind of pariah, and I am an alpha male. Convention would have it that we not socialize, but I pity her and make overtures. It seems she wants a shower, and I decide to shower her (with her). We are face to face and I am flirting. She touches my penis and gently massages it, perhaps a little shy, or inexperienced. I want to show her that I'm not turned off, even though I am a little (her body is unattractive). I can not get a full, hard, erection for her, but manage to get my penis turgid. She lets go of it, and I flex it, twice, trying to show her that she was turning me on. She gets in the tub and I am showering her. She is shy to turn around; but I manage to get her to do it by some horse play and an accepting manner. When she turns, she reveals a huge tattoo, covering her whole back. The tattoo is of many many dark green (and perhaps blue) leaves, overlapping each other. She crouches down, half turned away, there is a wooden book cabinet behind her, some of the compartments are slid shut, some are open (and hence I saw the books, and knew it was a book cabinet); I hold the shower head and spray warm water over her body. She seems grateful. I wake.
{there was more to this story: something happening in the background; a more detailed scenario, relationship between us; but I lost it all at waking}
I am getting ready to time travel - using the application in the iPhone. I'm aware there are three things, or stages, that I need to complete before pushing the button and time traveling. These are not related to the software, but to outside events. I'm sure the main event I'm trying to avoid is a nuclear explosion. I'm disorganized and trying to get ready on the fly; there is someone with me, maybe more than one person, but I can't remember them now. I miss the stages that I should've gone through before jumping, and the event I'm trying to time travel away from is beginning. We run for cover; although I should be worried, I'm not too worried - thinking I can just wing my way through. All the while it seems amazing to me that time travel is now possible, and through an application on an iPhone. As I'm tapping through the application menus, the phone is giving me security checks - checks to make sure the user is sure where they are jumping to, that they know what they are doing. The application is asking me questions, asking me to verify things, mostly about the future. Initially the answers can be scrapped together from my present knowledge of future plans, but soon enough the questions become so hard I wouldn't know them unless I'd already been to the future i.e., if I'd already been where I wanted to go. It is at this point I know I can't make the jump I wanted; and that this was more serious than I'd thought - missing my intended jump time has altered everything. I begin to think over "double jumping": jumping back in time to make the original jump in time. The mechanism baffles me, but seems profound.
The scene changes, we seem to be in a kind of museum or display room. There are two people with me. I still have the iPhone. There are three items of clothing on a brown circular plinth - like a cut off tree trunk, but not natural, the plinth is man-made I'm sure. The other two do something to the clothes on display; but I disagree and move them aside. I begin to neatly fold a down jacket as I'd learnt, in waking life, working in fashion. The other two are very skeptical of my skill and jeer a little. Feeling the pressure I concentrate even more, and fold the jacket slower and more purposefully - but I know I can do a professional job, unlike them. The two are won over and are impressed by my skill. As I'm laying the neatly folded jacket on the plinth for display, they come closer, right next to me, and perhaps lend a hand. I lay the jacket very deferently on the plinth, but the display of the three items isn't right. I begin to rearrange it.
All the while I've been aware of a music issue with the iPhone. There was a music playlist, however in the middle of the list was a solitary "random song." This song was always chosen at random from the library, and this choice changed all of the following playlist. I see it graphically as a planar (2D) input/output style figure. The playlist, displayed as a single line, approaches a square or rectangular box, hollow, upon hitting the box, the "random" song, the playlist line is shifted down one of either two playlist possibilities. The random track has changed the outcome, and we can never know in advance which.
{waking moment}
I'm in a bath tub outside, taking a shower. The naked fat girl approaches, she is very fat; but her face has a very profound beauty, and her skin is a lovely milky white. I sense she is some kind of pariah, and I am an alpha male. Convention would have it that we not socialize, but I pity her and make overtures. It seems she wants a shower, and I decide to shower her (with her). We are face to face and I am flirting. She touches my penis and gently massages it, perhaps a little shy, or inexperienced. I want to show her that I'm not turned off, even though I am a little (her body is unattractive). I can not get a full, hard, erection for her, but manage to get my penis turgid. She lets go of it, and I flex it, twice, trying to show her that she was turning me on. She gets in the tub and I am showering her. She is shy to turn around; but I manage to get her to do it by some horse play and an accepting manner. When she turns, she reveals a huge tattoo, covering her whole back. The tattoo is of many many dark green (and perhaps blue) leaves, overlapping each other. She crouches down, half turned away, there is a wooden book cabinet behind her, some of the compartments are slid shut, some are open (and hence I saw the books, and knew it was a book cabinet); I hold the shower head and spray warm water over her body. She seems grateful. I wake.
{there was more to this story: something happening in the background; a more detailed scenario, relationship between us; but I lost it all at waking}
Friday, November 6, 2009
Night of 6th November 2009
I have two small square spoons, like ice cream spoons, with very sharp edges, in my hands and am attempting to cut my toe nails with them. I sense that the two pieces were once part of a single device for cutting toe nails, one that worked much better - but I have to make do, and try to do the job with the two pieces. I place one underneath the nail and try to chop down on the nail from above with the other. The first attempt is successful and feels very pleasant. I get a bit blase and am not as careful as I should be; with the next cut I chop off a slab of my toe, and the pain is excruciating. I see the cleavered toe - the pink glassy flesh is misting over as the air hits it. The pain is excruciating. I wake up.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Night of 3rd November 2009
I'm outside, it's dusk, and I'm hiding. I seem to be loitering around the carpark of an expensive apartment complex, trying to keep from view. The garbage is outside the apartment - arranged as it is in Japan for pick up by the removal men (it is not typical refuse but the larger things that can not be taken by the dump truck). I notice my printer, from waking life, in the stack. Although I'm not sure if it is mine, it could be Stephen Fry's. I'm worried about this doubt of ownership and try to get nearer the printer. As I'm right on it, I'm found out and it seems to be Stephen Fry who has seen me. He stands near the printer, but is not angry - the printer is mine. The printer is working, the light is on. I look at the photos that are in the exit tray: I can't remember them now, but one may have been a solid sky blue, and the other was a person, with a yellow amber background, but I don't remember the person. I do remember the quality of the print was bad and Stephen Fry, or me, may have commented on it. The expensive sedan, like a bentley, comes out of the parking garage past us at the printer, and I steal into the boot of the car to escape (still having to hide).
The scene changes (though this is still the same story) it's still dusk, and I'm looking onto a spacey open air terrace. The terrace is stepped, layered - with mezzanines and patios, lots of fauna around, it is very impressive, like the gardens of babylon or an aztec architecture. I'm looking down on it from the highest level, and I see my grey sofa, from waking life, in fact many of them, the same model, littered all around, on all the levels of, the terrace, flush up against the walls. Looking at one of the square cushions (there are no such cushions on the real sofa) I'm a little concerned about the sofa being left outside, and my initial awe of the patio, and impression of relaxation from the sofas is dampened by the thought that they are left out in the elements and may not be so inviting after all. I'm suddenly aware that this is NaS's (the rapper's) house. I make my way down the levels.
I find a little flow of water in the lower level, similar in size and current to one of those flows in a water-park (water amusement park). I think I must still be trying to get somewhere, or elude something, or hide from something because I get in the flow - knowing it will take me on, and somehow knowing in advance where it's going.
The flow speeds up, and I'm heading for the waterfall. I pass through a very small (only just big enough to get through curled up) arched stone gateway over the lip of the waterfall. This gateway is brown and rough, un-fashioned, but the surrounding wall around the arch is cream color and seems more uniform or fashioned - this huge wall separates the patio section from the drop of waterfall on the other side. The waterfall side is cavernous or enclosed; as opposed the the open air terrace. I haven't gone over the edge with the water, I seem to be waiting at the lip, unperturbed by the strong current. Perhaps, in hindsight, this is where I knew the patio was NaS's house...
I make the decision to go over; it seems as though I've done this jump before, because the drop is suddenly much much larger than I knew it to be - it has become a drop of 5 or 6 stories, or many more. I realize a few seconds into the fall that I'm going to die if I hit the ground - the pool at the bottom is too shallow (I can see the bottom of it, it's like a water fountain bed). The scenery during the fall reminds me (now that I write it) of a Jackie Chan stunt in one of his films where he jumps between stories in a shopping mall; or like a similar stunt in the film Commando where Schwarzenegger swings on a mall decoration and onto elevators in a shopping mall. The scenery on this side of the waterfall is still quite aztec, but writing the previous sentence, I think it could have been a shopping mall - I was falling from the top level of a shopping mall toward the bottom. The surfaces were made of the small laminate bricks shopping malls often use, and the greenery dotted about was very shopping mall-esque. I'm falling and I know I'm finished. At this moment I notice an octagonal structure, only big enough for one person to stand in/on, floating, or situated at any rate, well below me but well above the ground (where I will die upon impact). The octagon is made of the same design, laminate bricks (sand or tan color as all the others). It is not directly below me however, to survive this fall I must get to it. As I fall, skydiver style, it is infront and below me - I must get forward in time in order to land on it, or at least to get a hand on it. My fall speed is increasing quickly. I swim with my arms and make progress getting forward as I fall. I think I'm going to make it. My fall speed is so fast now I'm aware that I might not be able to grab the octagonal platform; that the collision will be so violent I'll just break my arms grasping for the octagon. But I must try, the alternative is death. I'm swimming through the air, it's getting closer, it's within reach - I brace for a huge impact on my arms, prepare to try and hold on, at least break my velocity a little so that if I can't hold on the rest of the fall may not kill me. Impact! The collision is violent but I feel no pain, and getting a hold on the edge of the platform was not as hard as I thought it should be. I instantly, desperately, try haul my self onto the octagon. This too is suprisingly easy - I can't haul my body weight up by the power of my arms alone in real life (pull-ups) and so am suprised I can here. There are two burnished steel pipes in the middle of the octagon; they are upside down "u" shapes, but square "u"s, with short curves joining the perpendicular sections of the "u"s. They are like the bars on swimming pool steps - except their shape is, as said, different. They are flush in the center of the octagon and I'm glad I didn't get perfectly over it as they would have broken my back if I'd landed on them. I'm hauling myself onto the octagon and grab these bars, it's as if they were intended to aid people hanging on to the octagon for dear life.
Paradoxically (because it was so easy to grab the octagon and haul myself), I can't get my whole body up onto the octagon, no matter how hard I try. I get my arms well around the pipes and my upper body is well up onto the platform too. My legs dangle over the edge. But I'm relieved to have saved myself and am thankful for, satisfied with, this result. I see a shot, from directly above, of myself half hauled onto the octagon - my arms are making two v shapes as I'm slumped, head resting left, on the platform. The snap-shot looks like someone who'd just saved themselves from drowning, recuperating/relieved. I wake.
The scene changes (though this is still the same story) it's still dusk, and I'm looking onto a spacey open air terrace. The terrace is stepped, layered - with mezzanines and patios, lots of fauna around, it is very impressive, like the gardens of babylon or an aztec architecture. I'm looking down on it from the highest level, and I see my grey sofa, from waking life, in fact many of them, the same model, littered all around, on all the levels of, the terrace, flush up against the walls. Looking at one of the square cushions (there are no such cushions on the real sofa) I'm a little concerned about the sofa being left outside, and my initial awe of the patio, and impression of relaxation from the sofas is dampened by the thought that they are left out in the elements and may not be so inviting after all. I'm suddenly aware that this is NaS's (the rapper's) house. I make my way down the levels.
I find a little flow of water in the lower level, similar in size and current to one of those flows in a water-park (water amusement park). I think I must still be trying to get somewhere, or elude something, or hide from something because I get in the flow - knowing it will take me on, and somehow knowing in advance where it's going.
The flow speeds up, and I'm heading for the waterfall. I pass through a very small (only just big enough to get through curled up) arched stone gateway over the lip of the waterfall. This gateway is brown and rough, un-fashioned, but the surrounding wall around the arch is cream color and seems more uniform or fashioned - this huge wall separates the patio section from the drop of waterfall on the other side. The waterfall side is cavernous or enclosed; as opposed the the open air terrace. I haven't gone over the edge with the water, I seem to be waiting at the lip, unperturbed by the strong current. Perhaps, in hindsight, this is where I knew the patio was NaS's house...
I make the decision to go over; it seems as though I've done this jump before, because the drop is suddenly much much larger than I knew it to be - it has become a drop of 5 or 6 stories, or many more. I realize a few seconds into the fall that I'm going to die if I hit the ground - the pool at the bottom is too shallow (I can see the bottom of it, it's like a water fountain bed). The scenery during the fall reminds me (now that I write it) of a Jackie Chan stunt in one of his films where he jumps between stories in a shopping mall; or like a similar stunt in the film Commando where Schwarzenegger swings on a mall decoration and onto elevators in a shopping mall. The scenery on this side of the waterfall is still quite aztec, but writing the previous sentence, I think it could have been a shopping mall - I was falling from the top level of a shopping mall toward the bottom. The surfaces were made of the small laminate bricks shopping malls often use, and the greenery dotted about was very shopping mall-esque. I'm falling and I know I'm finished. At this moment I notice an octagonal structure, only big enough for one person to stand in/on, floating, or situated at any rate, well below me but well above the ground (where I will die upon impact). The octagon is made of the same design, laminate bricks (sand or tan color as all the others). It is not directly below me however, to survive this fall I must get to it. As I fall, skydiver style, it is infront and below me - I must get forward in time in order to land on it, or at least to get a hand on it. My fall speed is increasing quickly. I swim with my arms and make progress getting forward as I fall. I think I'm going to make it. My fall speed is so fast now I'm aware that I might not be able to grab the octagonal platform; that the collision will be so violent I'll just break my arms grasping for the octagon. But I must try, the alternative is death. I'm swimming through the air, it's getting closer, it's within reach - I brace for a huge impact on my arms, prepare to try and hold on, at least break my velocity a little so that if I can't hold on the rest of the fall may not kill me. Impact! The collision is violent but I feel no pain, and getting a hold on the edge of the platform was not as hard as I thought it should be. I instantly, desperately, try haul my self onto the octagon. This too is suprisingly easy - I can't haul my body weight up by the power of my arms alone in real life (pull-ups) and so am suprised I can here. There are two burnished steel pipes in the middle of the octagon; they are upside down "u" shapes, but square "u"s, with short curves joining the perpendicular sections of the "u"s. They are like the bars on swimming pool steps - except their shape is, as said, different. They are flush in the center of the octagon and I'm glad I didn't get perfectly over it as they would have broken my back if I'd landed on them. I'm hauling myself onto the octagon and grab these bars, it's as if they were intended to aid people hanging on to the octagon for dear life.
Paradoxically (because it was so easy to grab the octagon and haul myself), I can't get my whole body up onto the octagon, no matter how hard I try. I get my arms well around the pipes and my upper body is well up onto the platform too. My legs dangle over the edge. But I'm relieved to have saved myself and am thankful for, satisfied with, this result. I see a shot, from directly above, of myself half hauled onto the octagon - my arms are making two v shapes as I'm slumped, head resting left, on the platform. The snap-shot looks like someone who'd just saved themselves from drowning, recuperating/relieved. I wake.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Night of 2nd November 2009
CKY style stunts are going behind an end credit sequence. Shopping trolleys are being rammed toward curbside bushes, and there is a lot of debris, rubbish, lying around what looks like a carpark. The carpark is now a windowed room, quite spacious, like an emptied gym, with carpet. I sense that the room was once a smart place, but is now run down - debris is all around, and I think I'm engaged in the continuing CKY stunts.
I'm talking to my mother and father in the room; I can't recall speaking to my mother but remember she was there, my conversation was principally with my father. The mood was happy and we are enjoying talking to each other, although a hint of sadness that the room has become so rundown is felt. At this instant a black bird - small, the size of a blackbird, but not with yellow beak, it is completely black - flies in and perches on my right shoulder. The bird is introduced as "the India Bird" - I think it is my father who says this. The bird speaks to me and claims, proudly, that the room is its room now, and it is responsible for the current condition. Although I previously felt some sadness, even shame, that the room has become so derelict, I hide my feelings and commend the bird in a friendly manner. I look at the bird's face, I see the left side of it, completely black, and the bird's eye is quite dead - like a shark's. I know that the windows have disappeared and the room is a subterranean one. I wake.
I'm talking to my mother and father in the room; I can't recall speaking to my mother but remember she was there, my conversation was principally with my father. The mood was happy and we are enjoying talking to each other, although a hint of sadness that the room has become so rundown is felt. At this instant a black bird - small, the size of a blackbird, but not with yellow beak, it is completely black - flies in and perches on my right shoulder. The bird is introduced as "the India Bird" - I think it is my father who says this. The bird speaks to me and claims, proudly, that the room is its room now, and it is responsible for the current condition. Although I previously felt some sadness, even shame, that the room has become so derelict, I hide my feelings and commend the bird in a friendly manner. I look at the bird's face, I see the left side of it, completely black, and the bird's eye is quite dead - like a shark's. I know that the windows have disappeared and the room is a subterranean one. I wake.
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About Me
- Tom
Likes: writing
Dislikes: those things where you find yourself writing in third-person like someone else wrote the bio on you; but we all know how this works...
