Dream: the man by the volcanic later\

This dream starts at a volcanic crater lake. Tall misty mountains stand in a ring around a body of deep blue water, the kind of deep blue that feels like the lake has no depth. I get into the water and it is quite cold, though the air temperature is warm. Within a few metres from the shore, I cannot see the bottom and it is like being suspended in space.

I drift on my back – there is no current at all so I hardly move. There are no clouds in the sky, just another shade of blue, completely still like the water. Some other people come into the water and I greet them. I swim out further alone and when I look back, two of them have pushed a couch into the water and are reading on the couch.

Wow, that is really the new definition of reading by the water. I think to myself. I swim over to see how the couch doesn’t sink. I conclude that the salt must be so strong in the water that even the weight of a couch with two adults can be supported.

After a while I get out of the water, feeling rather happy and relaxed. I walk up the road to an old block of apartments and go up the stairs. On the first floor, I turn right and the corner apartment is mine. The door is open, and my heart immediately starts to race. I tiptoe to the spot of sunlight that the door is letting through, and look inside with my pounding heart in my ears. Nothing looks astray from the door, so I go inside. All the front windows facing the lake are open with pale coloured curtains swishing in the wind.

Suddenly the door slams behind me, the noise making my heart jump out of my chest. I turn around and there is a man – I instinctively know he is an ex though I don’t recognise him. He looks horribly unkempt, with a rough unshaven face, unwashed hair and dirt all over his body. He is wearing a grey singlet which is heavily stained. He lunges towards me with an awful smile on his face, and I step back, bumping into the couch in front of the window. The stink of stale cigarettes hits me like a wave and I want to vomit.

Hey honey, I was just in the area and thought I’d pop in to see how you were doing. He steps back and says. Just wanted to give you a kiss was all.

I feel nauseous with my heart still racing its own crazy rhythm in my ears. I cannot hear what he is babbling anymore, and all that is on my mind is how to escape – the window? Surely I’d hurt myself if I jumped out. The door? I think he’d locked it on the way in. I could try to hit him somewhere and floor him? As I am contemplating all this, a small voice in my head says that this was a critical mistake to date this man. Shushing my inner voice, my eyes drift to the couch, and somehow I know that is the answer.

I have to push the couch out the window to make it land on the water. I realise, and wake up.

Sydney interlude

This was a very memorable three days for me, even though it had no “happy ending”. 

So much complexity can be found in just such a short time –

There was that fickle game of bread making, waiting to see if Barney would rise (and he did, beautifully)

There were those moments of feeling really, really good; realising how far I have come in the last 5 months and how I am in the best place I have been for the last very many years

There was one moment of feeling overwhelmingly negative, a flashback to those days when everything felt awful. But at the same time it was so positive that I dug myself out of that moment, maintained some composure and kept going.

There were some lovely moments shared with friends, filled with delicious food, laughter and stories. I was again reminded of how amazing my friends are and how they love me for who I am (and I love them for who they are).

There was a whole day of gorgeous sunshine in the bush, where I saw so many native wildflowers, admired the wonder of nature in a scribbly gum and across the expansive escarpment. It is simply incredible that one can still see kangaroos in the bush, in the middle of Sydney. I sat by the water for hours reading a book (strangely, set in Ontario) and snacking. I felt content in ways I had never known, this is unchartered territory.

There was the discovery and collection of the amazing vegetables in my dad’s garden. So much green and so much freshness. I devoured sun ripened baby tomatoes as I looked for more treasures. And even found a cactus flower!

Finally, there was this very memorable moment. After the interview I felt rather shattered, and decided to take a breather at Lifehouse. I walked into the foyer and saw a beautiful walnut baby grand, so I asked the volunteer ladies if I could play it. I played a string of Chopin pieces, if I remember correctly – the nocturne in E flat major, followed by the waltz in F minor, the waltz in A minor, then the nocturne in C minor, the waltz in B minor, and finally the nocturne in C sharp minor. I did not divert from Chopin as the melancholy and sentimentality suited me well at that very moment.

So many people came up to say thank you and I felt incredibly touched by their sincerity and kindness. I thought I am going to be okay – I have my own ways of reaching out to the universe. A lady stopped to tell me that she was supposed to hear this lovely music right after her first appointment with the oncologist (she was diagnosed with cancer this week). A man came up to say that I had made his day. A couple walked to the lift and walked back to finish listening to the nocturne. 

And finally, a very old and frail lady, probably in her late 80s, waited patiently to speak to me whilst I was talking to another man. When he had gone, she asked me if I could play a piece that her mother had really loved playing. She took out her wallet with her trembling hands and digged deep, finally coming up with a scrunched up piece of paper. On it there was a spidery scrawl in blue pen Clair de Lune. Who knows how long she had carried around that piece of paper, filled with memories and love for her mother? As I played those opening notes, her eyes went to a different place – I hope to a beautiful place. I could remember only a few lines of the piece but when I trailed off, I saw her eyes filled with tears as she thanked me for that little reminder. It was such a profound moment for me, awed by the  power of music. I left Lifehouse a different person.