Dream: missing a flower roundabout in the dark

In this dream, I am in Sydney and Ryan has come to visit. We decide to go to the Blue Mountains for a hike. The landscape is lush and green, just like it always is in the warmer months of the year. I don't remember much about the hike except us emerging from the trailhead.

We go back to the car and drive to a nearby microbrewery. I am puzzled that I'd never heard of this place in the mountains. Ryan drinks all the samples they bring us and becomes progressively more drunk. He is jolly as we get back in the car to drive back to Sydney, singing and laughing.

Suddenly I realise that the road is very dark. No cars are around. There are no street lights and the car does not seem to be emitting any light. It feels rather strange to be enveloped in dark, like a drop of darkness merging into a much greater pool of darkness. I blink and the colour of the black in front of me does not change at all.

Driving with my eyes open is the same as driving with my eyes closed. I think to myself and feel a little afraid, my heart quickening.

I listen carefully to the sound of the tyres, and all I hear is a whooshing sound that sounds perfectly even, moving forward. We are gliding stealthily through the dark, steadily moving forward. Not too fast, not too slow. But my heart has started pounding like crazy.

Suddenly Ryan stops his blabbering and laughter. The air is totally still in the car. A ding from one of our phones breaks the silence and he reads a message.

Turn left now! He says.
I swerve the car left and hear the distinct change in the sound of the tyres. We screech to a stop and I look out the drivers window. There, we narrowly missed a huge roundabout full of the most beautiful, luscious flowers. The adrenaline rushes through me and I wake up.

October dreams

In this dream I am at Pearson airport trying to check in for a flight to Australia. The immigration man asks to see a copy of the work permit, and I realise I've left it at home.

He says I cannot board the flight without it, so I leave the counter and think about what I'm going to do. I open my facebook and Michael L has just posted saying he is in Toronto. Despite the fact I haven't spoken to him for 10 years I decide it's a good idea to contact him. He replies promptly saying he'll climb into my apartment and get my work permit.

I sit and wait for news from him. Nothing comes for a while and I feel anxious that I'm going to miss the flight. In the end I decide to call him, and he says he found a tub of Vegemite at my place.

So? I ask, feeling annoyed.
So, I haven't seen Vegemite for so long I decided to make a Vegemite pie. He says.
You what? I say, feeling incredulous.
I tried to set the pie, but the milk split from the Vegemite. He says sheepishly.
I am so annoyed I wake up.

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I am at the local supermarket and decide to buy a head of Chinese wombok. I think to myself - gee I haven't eaten this for a while. As I'm carrying it home I'm thinking about all the things I'm going to cook with it.

Then I get home and realise there is absolutely nothing in the cupboards except for one packet of instant noodles (the Shin Ramen I bought when I went away with P). That's all right, I think to myself, I'll just have instant noodles with sliced wombok, that'll be pretty good.

I'm pleased with this idea and start to look for a pot to cook my noodles. That's when I realise there are no cooking utensils either. The only thing I can find is a cup.

That's all right, I think to myself, I'll manage to cook the noodles in the microwave.
I look up and there is only a hole where the microwave usually is in my kitchen.

That's all right, I think to myself, I'll find someone with a microwave.
So I leave my apartment carrying a cabbage under one arm, a cup in my hand and the packet of instant noodles. I walk out onto the street and look for a microwave. Of course there isn't one. It's pretty cold as I walk around the block, and then I see a homeless guy, and next to him.. a microwave.

I go up to him and ask if I could use his microwave.
Sure! He says cheerfully. Just remember that it only works when the trains pass because it's operated by the heat generated from the subway ventilation grill.
At that moment a train passes and a wave of heat washes over us.
That's it! He shouts. Then I wake up.

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I am in a tiny gelato shop with hardly any space except for the huge counter. There seem to be a million flavours on offer and I contemplate them carefully.

Preserved duck? What a strange flavour, I think to myself.
Then I see a flavour that is labelled radicchio salad, so I get that for myself.
The lady hands me a cup, and that is when I realise I already have a cup of gelato in my hand.
Why did I get more gelato when I already have some? I wonder to myself.
Then I realise the cup the lady gave me is actually full of salad.
Then I wake up.

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I am on a crowded bus. All around me are stressed and frazzled people, screaming children, loads of bags and boxes. Utter chaos.

The bus stops and we spill out onto the sidewalk. Outside it is the immigration building marking the entrance into Bangladesh. I walk inside and it is utter chaos as well, people forming haphazard huddles everywhere, pushing and trying to get to the front. I squeeze my way to the front and the immigration officer frowns over my passport.

You must pay. He pushes the passport back at me.
I ask him how much and he says $100.
I don't have that much money on me. In fact, I have no money on me at all.
I say to him that I must go back to get my bag. He shrugs and I leave the building.
Outside I see the bus zooming away into the distance, back the way we came.. back to India?
I realise I am stranded with nothing. And I wake up.

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I am in my apartment in Toronto with E and her husband. It is a bright winter's day outside, and everything is covered in snow. On closer inspection it is lightly snowing outside, the snowflakes falling lazily to the ground. E says she wants to go for a walk, and asks if I could keep her husband company while she does so. She leaves and we get cups of tea and sit in the sunshine on my grey lounge chairs.

Soon he says, geez she has walked a long way. 
How do you know that? I ask.
He shows me an app which shows on google maps exactly where she is walking. He explains that he installed the app to track her activities.
I feel slightly chilled as I settle back into my chair.
Then he says, I have a confession to make. I feel suddenly very cold.
I am actually infertile, he says, I am just waiting for her to have an affair so we can raise the child together.
I scream in silence and wake up.


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I am standing in a bright and sunny kitchen. It appears to be some type of cooking class as there is an instructor and we are following her lead.
First we slice a big loaf of sourdough. It looks like great bread - thick, crusty, chewy.
Then we butter the sourdough liberally with great curls of soft butter which also looks and smells great.
Next we are given a small pot of dijon mustard - I look at it dubiously but slather it on.
Next we are given a tub of ketchup. I start thinking we are making hot dogs?
Finally, we are given the last ingredient - a jar of vegemite. Really? I think to myself as I slather the black on top of the butter, mustard and tomato sauce.
We put the sandwich together and an indescribable coloured ooze comes out from the bread.
I take a bite and the taste is so strange I wake up.