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.

-------------------------------------------

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.

-------------------------------------------

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.

-------------------------------------------

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.

-------------------------------------------

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.


-------------------------------------------

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. 

Post call breakfast, month one

Post call breakfast

Coming to Toronto means adopting the Canadian work-lifestyle. Hello, 24 hour in-house calls where sleep is fragmented and variable. Including the signover times, I’m often in the hospital for 25-26hours at a stretch. With fragmented sleep in a marshmallow mattress, I decided to make myself two rules:

1.      Thou shalt take the streetcar to/from work on call days

2.      Thou shalt eat something delicious after the call

Hence begins the exploration of the neighbourhood for post call breakfast

July 9 – Aunties & Uncles

74 Lippincott St, Toronto 

One of the most popular brunch spots in Toronto, it is easy to see why this place is packed on a Saturday morning. We waited close to an hour in the blazing sun but it was really worthwhile.

We had omelette of the day (spinach, asparagus and goats cheese) with challah toast and potato salad; and banana maple pancakes. The omelette was fluffy and tasty with a good punch from the goats cheese. The potato salad was piquant and the toast simply indulgent. The pancakes were even better, just a little oaty and not too sweet, perfect to soak up the maple syrup.

July 11 – Nu Bugel

240 Augusta St, Toronto

I was pretty tired by the time I made it here, and reading menus is not my forte. Toasted coconut bagel? Sounded interesting enough and the waitress’ suggestion of cream cheese to accompany was perfect – soft and oozing like a dream. The coffee is free on weekdays which is a nice bonus.

July 15 – Our Spot

There is a funky bench outside Our Spot, which sits in the middle of Kensington village. The service is super friendly and the waitress lent a sympathetic ear to my troubles.

Breakfast here is huge and I had to take half of it home. The Greek plate has Greek salad, 3 eggs cooked any style, toast and home fries. The heartiness was just what I needed after a long night. I went home and crashed out.

July 20 – Dark Horse Espresso

This was the first time I did not sleep a wink for the entire 24 hour call and I felt really dark when I left the hospital. As I talked to P on the phone I managed to walk the wrong way and ended up on the south side of Spadina. There was a huge queue of people in dark horse so I walked in too.

The space is beautiful and airy. The blackboard menu is trendy hipsteriffic and the promise of a flat white had me almost close to tears. I also picked up this cherry almond scone (sort of half savoury, half sweet) to gobble with my coffee… but all in all it was pretty average. It made me miss home.

July 24 – Cobb’s scones… Momofuku Daisho

After this call I didn’t go out for breakfast because the attending had brought scones for our breakfast. The blueberry scone was beautifully moist – hands down favourite.

After a brief nap I went for lunch at Momofuku Daisho. Momofuku in Toronto takes up a whole building adjacent to the Shangri la, with a stunning modern artwork of a ?horse ?bull ?unicorn full of hands right outside. Inside, the noodle bar is a chaotic space on the ground floor, but daisho is the grown-up area on the first floor. Surrounded completely by glass, the space is beautifully bright. We had an amazing 3 course meal here as part of the summerlicious promotion ($28).

 Green bean panzanella salad (punchy fresh and sundried tomatoes, curd, soft bread and roasted hazelnuts)

The infamous pork bun.

Kim chi noodle (a la bibimbap but with the noodles drenched in a kim chi peanut sauce, just the right amount of spicy)

Secreto ssam plate (the pork was so aesthetically pleasing, the grains of the meat inviting even to a vegetarian. Served with sticky rice, daikon, gravy and lettuce cups)

Deconstructed blueberry cheesecake

Honeydew sorbet with white chocolate

Toronto real estate nightmares

I arrived in Toronto on Thursday June 23, thinking I would have plenty of time to get settled in before start of work on July 1. In fact, I had these romantic images of waltzing into a furnished apartment, putting my bags down and getting on the next bus to Niagara falls. Alas, the reality could not be further from this fantasy.

I was so jetlagged on Friday that I woke up at 3am and couldn’t sleep anymore. The air mattress had started leaking some time in the night, and I woke up enveloped in an air mattress bubble. I tried sleeping sideways, diagonally, starfish, legs off the mattress – every contortion I could think of. But it wasn’t to be, and I ended up getting up at 6:30am for a swim. Watching the sun come up as I did laps was therapeutic, and I set out to do the day’s errands sleep deprived but lighthearted. Criminal record office, mobile plan, bank account, university registration, meeting with the supervisor of training… In between all that, I somehow did no real estate activities, but I patted myself on the back thinking I had done so much life admin in one day. Everything else would follow, right?

On Saturday I compensated for my lack of sleep the two previous nights with an epic sleep in until 2pm. When I woke up and saw the clock, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I started looking on Kijiji and the millions of ads on there, sending out lots of enquiries. So many that I had to start taking notes like “Bright clean safe”.

On Sunday I continued the mad Kijiji scramble, but a few people had responded to my queries so I was able to set up a few appointments. The first place I went to at 57 St Joseph St was a recently finished condo which was, well, not really finished. The painting was in progress and the whole place smelled like renovations. The flat was tiny though it had a huge balcony (who needs a balcony in freezing Toronto winters?) Then we went to 210 Simcoe and met A, the super hardworking real estate agent who was out working on Sunday afternoon! The place was tiny and I felt pretty claustrophobic in there. We went to see a couple more places on Richmond St but the building was also unfinished and I really hated the new paint smell. Afterwards we had a short break in Tim Hortons (including my first encounter with Timbits!) and then continued the hunt. The next place at 38 Grenville was really beautiful and I loved it as soon as I walked in – bright and spacious, it was just perfect. The landlady R spoke heavily accented English but seemed really nice, so I applied for it on the spot. The last place of the day was in Lumiere – we were shown around by TC, a heavily plastic surgeried older lady who initially was quite cold but then really warmed up to us and started telling us a million stories. We were trapped in there as she talked for over an hour whilst her husband waited patiently in the car. I was exhausted by the end of all that, and was so glad to wolf down some ramen on the way home.

On Monday morning I was contemplating the two places I had seen the evening before – the bright & airy Grenville St, or the cheaper Lumiere place? R emailed to say that they were very interested in having me as a tenant but would like me to send a month’s deposit to another person’s account. The dodgy radar in my head immediately went off. Who is the landlord? I enquired. R then said that she was the managing agent for the landlords (a purportedly famous man in Toronto and his sister who lives overseas). She said I had “met” him as he was waiting in the stairwell on the day of the inspection. The Stairwell? Surely the landlord would either stay at home (if he didn’t want to see the tenants) or be inside the flat (if he did want to see them). Why would he hide in the stairwell? The alarm bells continued to ring as I started to get emails from the landlord trying to clarify the situation. When I asked to meet him he said he was too busy and for me to go to the Toronto Reference Library – or a far away suburb before 8am the next morning? I thought it was all too dodgy and called it off.

Meanwhile in the afternoon I went to see a furnished place just next door to E’s. The place itself was nothing special but it was fully furnished which was pretty much rare as hen’s teeth in Toronto. The owners were a Chinese couple who said they had bought the place for their daughter when she was studying at the University of Toronto, and now that she had moved back they wanted to rent it out to someone just like me. They had just a couple of requests – that they keep one of the storage cupboards for their things, and that I collect their mail and forward it by fedex. I readily agreed to this in exchange for them getting a queen bed. Then I felt so excited that this was done… we almost went out celebrating. But I had already made an appointment with A to see a couple of places at Murano South and 38 Elm so we went to see those places.. and I loved 38 Elm with its awesome pool and grand piano.

That night I was talking to P and he thought the ads were bare in pictures and seemed dodgy. I did some googling and my heart sank. The place was listed for sale? Were they planning to sell the place as well and I would have to move out? Also there were a bunch of business related things – there was a petroleum and engine oil business registered at the address and the business board had noted they had failed to submit their annual reports. His work brain went into overdrive and I also felt weary.. why couldn’t anything go right?

The next morning Tuesday I called and cancelled on the Chinese place, thinking that the potential stress was not worthwhile. Then I called A and told him I wanted to apply for the 38 Elm place. I felt really relieved when I made that decision – sure I would pay more than what I was planning to pay but the place was really nice. The offer went to the other side and I spent the day exchanging texts and phone calls with A. And in the end it fell through – the landlord declined my application. I felt so desolate that day, like there was nothing I could do right.

The next day, Wednesday, I was determined to find somewhere to live. Work was looming so very close then, and I felt like my week of househunting in Toronto wasn’t getting anywhere. As nice and kind as E was to me, I really felt like I was invading her space without any set plan to move out, like the bad smell that wouldn’t go away. I went on a major expedition with A, checking out 10 places in one afternoon. We started at 210 Simcoe again, and saw a much bigger place than the first place. Then we went up Bay St and saw a bunch of properties. One was covered in pigeon poo. Another had a shattered balcony barrier (on the 20^th floor, really?) I really hated the tallest condo Aura (80 stories) which had a hotel like lobby and a fake fireplace, urgh. By the end of looking at those places I was really over it. 210 Simcoe it was. It had to be my lucky place as something amazing happened outside it. It was concreted by the fact that it was close to Lucky Moose (aka Chunky Monkey in my head) and the rest of Chinatown. I figured buying tofu would be easier that way.

On Thursday I woke up feeling positive about the apartment, but was then feeling so disturbed that I hadn’t heard back from the landlord. More text exchanges with A ensued as my stress level rose. It was the last free weekday I had before the start of work, and I felt like I was facing the househunt again. I went for a walk up to Church Wellesley village and tried to distract myself by going up to the Australian consulate to cast my postal vote. Google maps led me to a nearby park and I sat on a bench under some giant trees, watching the traffic whiz past, wishing for a little inner tranquility. I couldn’t relax, and the homelessness was getting to me. I walked back along Bay, popping into a bookstore but even the books didn’t appeal to me. A few hours later I had the final OK from A – I had somewhere to live! That night I had to go to TD bank to open two bank accounts so I could have the requisite post dated cheques for my new place. I won’t even get started on the banking nightmares.

But that’s it, I finally found somewhere to live, a bright sunny place in downtown Toronto to call my own. For a year at least. 

Vipassana Guatemala: images and memories

A few miscellaneous memories.

The course was the 15th course since the inception of Vipassana Guatemala in 2007, basically propelled forward by a group of local enthusiastic meditators. It was incredible how much effort and time had gone into organising one of these courses without the readymade infrastructure that we enjoy in the West.

The courses are held at Finca La Milagrosa, a large property previously used for religious purposes, though most of the religious paraphernalia is covered with discreet brown paper around the property. The rooms are tidy and clean, though spartan as if one was staying at a monastery - basically a perfect setting.

The gardens are not huge but full of fruit trees and suitable for walking. The men´s side even had a little hill that one could climb, but the women´s side was all flat. Every morning the sunrise would peek over a row of pine trees that lined the front of the property, and some mornings with the misty clouds made for a beautiful sight. The days were warm and the nights modestly cold.

Though I knew exactly was up ahead, I had no idea how this course would go. Each time is so different for so many reasons. The biggest physical struggle for me was an awful thoracic back pain that lasted from Day 3 to Day 6. It was so bad that I considered leaving on Day 3 as I couldn´t imagine sitting there any longer. I imagined all sorts of things wrong with me - did I have an undiagnosed spinal cord tumour? transverse myelitis? my mind really went wild. On Vipassana day I also had a deep pain in my right shoulder (usually my good shoulder!) which stayed with me through that long afternoon session, the first adhittana session. I don´t even know how I got through those sessions when I was in so much pain, but it all passed, as everything always does.

Mentally I had a bad day on day 1 and spent the entire 6pm group meditation session crying. It stopped at some time though, the tears dried, and I realised that tears are really made of salt because they made crystalline tracks down my face. There is also a trajectory for tears - they fall down your face and land in a certain way. The rest of the days were not bad, around day 5 I started thinking of all the children whose deaths I had seen. I spent time recalling them and their families, and said goodbye to them in my head. The day after that I did the dying adults (not so many memorable ones) and the day after that I did all the grievances during my training. Then I asked myself if there were other outstanding issues, and worked through those. After that I felt like I was free and unburdened.

Coming out of silence is always really hard for me. The first time in 2003 I was overwhelmed and like most new students, I just went around chattering with everyone and anyone. The second time in 2013 I spent most of the day walking and talking with Kim, a much gentler emergence. This time I had gone to the course with the other Aussie girls Emma and Brei so I spent a lot of the day talking to them, but also met a few other people. It was awfully noisy. My throat was so scratchy and I found it a great effort to talk. But before we knew it, it was the morning of day 11, another beautiful day to head out into the Guatemalan sunshine, to our separate adventures.

Vipassana Guatemala: food and dreams (part 2)

Day 6

Breakfast: beans & tortillas 

Lunch: vegetable curry with potato, pumpkin & peas (a new cook?), lettuce salad, pink lemonade

another lost dream - will it ever come back to me?

sore right ankle - Jack island - US led Israeli base - list of prices - warning 17yo guide - TW temple - giant TVscreen - escape from police - a tall fence - 2 guys - Japan hotel- where to next?

Day 7

Breakfast: granola, mango

Lunch: red kidney bean stew, spinach and pasta soup, mole sauce with bananas (utterly delicious)

1. 

I am walking along Wulumuqi Rd in the northern direction, looking for a post office to post a map to Mongolia. It feels like I´m part of the amazing race and I am alert looking around for my competitors. Star comes up next to me and offers to help me. We turn right onto Fuxing West Rd but it is hard to see where the post office is.

We walk past a truck labelled Mr &Mrs Pizza with plastic models of fat mascots in the tray of the truck. Then we come to a playground where all the play equipment looks rather strange. I tell him that there was no such playground here when I was young and I wonder when it was built. On the other side of the playground is a swimming pool, with the weeds growing into the side of the pool. We walk closer to take a look and one end is 4m deep.

Such a deep pool right next to a playground? What a disaster. I think to myself, and wake up.

2. 

This dream starts inside a boarding house. It is really dark inside as if the natural light couldn´t possibly make its way inside. The rooms are tiny and cramped, each stuffed full of furniture and children. I walk down the aisle seeing all the little kids looking sad and forlorn. I wonder where their parents are.

Then I see Barbs and realise that she is running this boarding house - of course she is, with her social work background and all. She looks older and more jaded. Her eyes have lost of her usual spark and she looks tired.

I gather some of the children including one little girl who looks rather sick, and take them up one level which looks like a loft. There is a big kitchen there and I set out to make a cake. The children gather around me and initially they are questioning, but soon they start joining in helping with cracking the eggs and measuring out the sugar. The recipe calls for coconut but there isn´t any in the kitchen - never mind, I thought, we will just have cake without coconut. 

All of a sudden a big group of adults rush into the room and all the children scatter silently like a flock of frightened birds. A burly middle aged woman comes up to me and introduces herself as Rhonda, Barbs´ assistant. She informs me that this is a cocktail party for the people who donate money to the children´s shelter.

Good, I think to myself, maybe I can point out some of the appalling things that are happening here. Light music is playing and canapes are being served. As I pick up an impossibly small sliver of blueberry cheesecake on a skewer I realised I never cleaned up the cake mess in the kitchen. I duck into the kitchen and push the baking pan with the unbaked cake into the corner. It makes a strange noise and when I look closer, black marks are all over the kitchen bench. 

Rhonda comes over and gives me an angry look, then I wake up. 

Day 8

Breakfast: fried tortillas, gruel made from oats 

Lunch: savoury mole with potato and turnip, bean puree, plantano with hibiscus 

This dream starts in my car, pulling up into the centre of Berowra. I stop in the Woolies carpark (is there really a Woolies in Berowra?) and then I see a sign for a Vinnies in the same block as well and make a mental note to return. 

I walk slightly down the road away from woolies and vinnies and come to an abandoned shop. It looks really interesting with all sorts of antiquey curios strewn around. At the other end of the shop is a locked gate, through which one can see a railway track leading into a tunnel. A man is there, photographing the railway. 

He tells me that Berowra has changed so much since he was young, and asks if I had been to Berowra before. I tell him I used to teach there every week and he smiles. We walk down the road together and check out the ¨hip & happening¨ place in Berowra. There are a number of little shops around and we purchase sandwiches for $7. Around the corner is a store offering an eco village experience ¨try 20min of the beach for free!¨ Then we see an icecream shop but it is super expensive at $8 for a scoop. 

We leave the block and walk back to Woolies. The shops surrounding the carpark have changed and now there is an army surplus store. There I see Shelley arguing with the man at the counter - over a refund of her earrings. One had given her an ear infection and she wanted to refund both earrings but the man would only give her $4 for one earring. I wake up at the ridiculity. 

Day 9

Breakfast:  granola, pineapple tea 

Lunch: vegetable soup, couscous with chickpeas, cinnamony pumpkin mash

1. 

I have been kidnapped and am kept inside a house. There are very few clues as to where I am but my captor is a lady. She is slowly torturing me, entering several times a day to subject me to all sorts of strange things like electrocution and plucking my hair out one by one. One time she is doing the crossword with me and every time I get a word wrong she would punish me somehow. It is utterly terrifying. 

One day I become utterly convinced that she is going to kill me today. once she enters the room I decide I´m going to take her out. She punches me in the head and I fall off to the side, but I get up straight away and tackle her, then I step on her head as hard as I can and hear a crunch. I think I may have broken some of her skull bones, and after a while I feel safe enough to leave here there, an inert lump. 

Then I run out the door and down some steps, at the bottom of which there is a phone. I call 000 and then look for the exit from the house, but I can´t find it. I run back up the steps and the woman is still lying lifelessly where I left her. I look all around the captive room though I know there is no exit from the room. I see a police car and an ambulance pull up to the driveway, and realise that they won´t be able to find me in the secret part of the house. 

I bang on the window as hard as I can, but of course they can´t hear me. behind me my captor gives out a slow groan. I scream and wake up. 

2. 

I am in Shanghai for just one day and decide to catch up with Elsie. She takes me to a shopping mall that has just opened and we wander around the shops. We are looking for a haircut place because my hair is desperately long. She says we must explore all the shops but it´s hard to keep track of where we have been already. We are pretty much lost when we come to a beautiful pond full of blooming lilies, which makes us pause and take some photos.

Coming out of the lily pond, I see a subway station and think that I can take it anywhere so I can get to somewhere I know. I get on the train and it´s awfully crowded. After leaving the station it doesn´t move, stuck on the rails. I think I´m going to miss my flight, but when I take out my phone there is no reception. I am literally stuck. Then I wake up. 

Day 10

Breakfast: bread

Lunch: pasta salad, lentil soup 

Dinner: vegetable soup, rice, chocolate khir

No dreams on the last day, the end of the silence. 

Vipassana Guatemala: food and dreams (part 1)

Day 0
Dinner: vegetable soup with tortillas
Dreams: none

Day 1
Breakfast: fruit, granola, cinnamon tea
Lunch: lentil soup, rice, cabbage & carrot salad, agua de Jamaica

Dream:
Shelley and I are at a restaurant. We've paid for some sort of food and are holding receipts and a copper lid. We are supposed to look for our dish which also matches the copper lid.

We wait and wait but nothing matching comes up. in the end Shelley suggests we take this one dish of beans that is close ish to our lid but clearly not the right one. At that moment Helen shows up and says - hey I've been waiting for that forever! let's get a refund for my one and eat it together.

We walk outside and it is St Andrews square. There are people selling pineapples for 19c and we start debating whether thats cheap. I argue that it's cheap in any currency and we get one. Next we debate the difference between San Salvador and El Salvador.

Then I take out my phone and use a square of green anaesthetic gauze to wipe the screen. When I finish the screen is completely white. Then I wake up.

Day 2
Breakfast: black beans & tortillas, pineapple and ginger tea
Lunch: pasta bake with spinach, carrot &rocket salad, lemonade

Dream:
In this dream I am in a Nigerian village and I slowly sense that I have been kidnapped there. All around me are Nigerians and I cannot tell who has kidnapped me. I'm standing in the square with many people milling around.

Then I see a man in a blue & black stripe jumper and something stirs fear in me. Is he the captor? A child runs by and grab the lens from the SLR camera in the man's hands. I fear for the child but he runs away really quickly and the man makes no effort to chase him down.

He comes over to me and starts asking me about what I know of Nigerian marriage customs. He says there are 3 classes - upper, middle and lower. Marriage between the classes is allowed only in certain combinations, but I am struggling to dollowbthe complex rules he is trying to explain. I am scared he is trying to marry me off. Then I wake up

Day 3
Breakfast: granola, stewed pineapple, banana
Lunch: chickpea curry, coleslaw, ceviche of green mango, steamed plantain

Dreams:
1.
I am on a bus with Grace and she is trying to explain where we are going. Without warning she gets off the bus and Cecilia gets on and sits down where Grace was. We look out the window and see Thu ha walking along the street. We wave to her but she doesn't see us. Soon we see her again and we discuss how she could be walking so fast to be in front of the bus route.

Then I get off the bus and I am at Central station looking at the timetable boards. It is 1849 and the next train is in 4 minutes. I wonder if I have enough time to go to the toilet, then I wake up.

2. I don't recall the dream now but the keywords I wrote were: crocodile race, black period, smoke, camera to capture

Day 4
Breakfast: granola, melon, milky chai
Lunch: vegetable lentil curry, rice, tomato & cucumber salad

Dream:
I am on level 7 in POW private but I don't recognise the exact place. I am alone in an office with plush armchairs. Suddenly DC comes in and asks me brusquely what I am doing there. I say in a meek soft voice - I am here to wait for instructions.

He doesn't reply but leaves the room. I see a fridge and get up to see what is inside. I suddenly remember I have put noodles in the fridge and start looking through the shelves to find my noodles. But they are lost.

The dream cuts to the seaside and Shabai and I are standing on a cliff. She urges me to climb over a fence and stand right on the edge. As I stand there the clouds are super low and the sky is dark. The wind is howling and I look down to violent waves many metres below. Shabai says that there is gold in the ocean and throws me a fishing net to try and catch the gold. I feel slightly resentful that she is trying to get me to do such a dangerous thing, but I throw the net into the sea. First I get just rocks, then after a few throws I see a glimmer of gold. The wind is blowing even more strongly in my ears and I sway violently as I wave to Shabai that I found gold. Then I wake up.

Day 5:
Breakfast: beans and tortillas. candied oranges
Lunch: leftover pasta, leftover salad, pumpkin with cinnamon and cardamom

Dream:
This was a truly psychedelic one.
I am in the future. I am driving some vehicle when I crash into a wall. I am crumpled inside the car but I climb out through the window and see that I was driving an orange Ford fiesta. I shake my head at the ridiculousness and start walking away.

Then a police hovercraft shows up and shines bright lights on me. The policemen look like robots and have wooden legs. They shout at me in an unintelligible language and I start running. The light follows me but I duck into a crevice and find my escape through a dark alley.

Then I am within a dark round castle and the time is night. I walk around the castle tending to books - I am a librarian? People come in and ask to see certain things. I suggest books and read them out to people. After a while I realise that I am the only person left in the world that can read, and hence I am tending the only books left in the world.

Then I meet a man who keeps coming in asking to see images of the past, of my generation. After many encounters he becomes my confidante and ally. He says that the must be some way for me to find my way back to my real world. We spend many moments whispering in the dark corners of the library.

The dream cuts back to the city where I crashed the fiesta. The darkness prevails and I am walking the streets holding the hand of the man. He urges me to remember anything about where the fiesta crashed. I can't remember anything and feel really distraught.

Then I see Lego on the ground and something lights up in my brain - that's it! one of the clues. I see a Lego duplo store and point it out, but my friend looks at me blankly and I realise he can't read. Then I see a dark wine bar full of candles and realise that this is the gateway. I look up and see a wooden plaquard - the 8 ways McGlover.

I suddenly remember that I hid a silver suitcase up on the second floor so we head up the dark stairs. Under one of the tables we find the silver suitcase and with much anticipation I open it.

Inside there is a bed of fruit and on it, a sleeping baby.

This is the last real baby in the world, I think to myself. Then I wake up.

Dream in Antigua: a decrepit house with rats

If I don't record the dreams or their "keywords" they float away completely leaving just a shadow, a reminder that they existed but giving no clues to their substance.

So here is the dream I had on my 5th night in Antigua.

Jag and I were detectives of some sort though we were not in uniform. We were in the office when we got a phone call tipping us off about a string of unsolved murders. There is a man who is an expert at concealing body parts, so we must follow this clue.

We drive in an old jeep to the house which is dark and crumbling. The second floor looks like it's about to fall off onto the street, thoroughly unsafe for habitation. There is a man standing out front shouting.

As we get closer I realise it's M but he is in his 60s with completely white hair and a deeply lined face. He is shouting at his neighbour - and you! you never help me with anything! I need to dig a hole and you just disappear!

We introduce ourselves and show our badges. He looks at us with hardened and murky eyes, as if all the soul has gone out of them. He asks us to excuse him for a moment while he gets changed as he is dressed inappropriately for talking to police.

Jag and I have a brief discussion as he heads into the house - we agree that I should follow him to see what he does. I creep into the house, trying to make little noise. It's not hard to hide as there are so many shadows everywhere. I see him looking under a bed (or is it a counter? everything is so crammed it's hard to tell) for something. He fetches a shoebox and puts it on the bed, then walks away.

Instead of following him I go to the shoebox and open the top. Inside it is a dead rat with a fetid smell. Shocked, I drop the lid and follow him up the stairs. He is rummaging through the cupboards, a small plastic bag of shiny crystalline white powder tied around his wrist. He hums and sings as he digs, seeming ridiculously jovial.

Ah-ha! He cries. I found it!
Hiding behind the door, I'm not sure if he knows I'm there, but he seems unperturbed and keeps talking to himself.

That stupid idiot, he wouldn't help me destroy the evidence, and now I have to do it myself.

With that he turns away from the cupboard and in his hand dangles a live rat, trying to struggle away.

I gasp and wake up.

Dream in Belize: psychosis at a party

This was a very strange dream. Maybe because of the time difference, usually when I wake up in Central America it is late night back home and I would have received some messages from various friends, so I got used to checking my phone when I wake up.

In the dream, I look at my phone exactly how I would have in real life. I see that I have several missed Whatsapp calls from P. At this point I can't really tell if this is a dream.

I call him back and after an interminably long time he picks up the phone.

It takes a few moments for me to realise that he is rambling and incoherent. He is saying various words which link together, but it is difficult to catch the meaning.

After a while I manage to piece the story together. He says he went to a party where some people were giving him pills. He didn't know what the pills were but he just took them anyway. Then he started to hallucinate and he was terrified by his own hallucinations. He didn't know how to leave the party and there were so many people there he began to feel afraid. Then he met a girl.

At this point the story becomes almost unintelligible as it is mixed with mutterings of apologies and a frenzy of paranoia - please don't leave me! I really didn't mean to kiss some random girl at a party where I was psychotic. He repeats his sorries again and again.

I feel perplexed, then I wake up.

Dreams in Mexico: a university reunion, spidermen feet and Jag's brown goats

Dream 1: A reunion

In this dream I have just finished night shift and have that unique feeling of grogginess mixed with mild nausea and disorientation. It is a rather woolly feeling, as if your soul has been replaced by an insensate cotton ball.

But I am on my way somewhere, and when I approach the giant hall I realise that it is our university reunion. I wonder in my dream - is it 10 years now?

Arriving at the gate, I am asked if I have my registration number by someone that I do not recognise.

Registration? I didn't know I had to register. I complain.

Never mind, you can have number 37. The other person says and gives me a badge.

I enter the hall and there are lots of people but no one I recognise. I feel even more tired than when I first arrive, and start contemplating leaving.

Then I see Neha, who I haven't thought about since we finished university - but her hair is cut extremely short. I say hi to her, but the sound is lost in the humdrum of all the conversation around u.

Then I see M and my heart skips a beat. He looks really different - lean and muscular as if he was some sort of fish. He doesn't see me and I keep walking away from him.

I get to the front of the room where a programme is displayed. The first lecture is how to re-attach a severed head. 

Someone comes up to me and asks if I would swap their number 45. Then Julie arrives with a huge platter of frozen strawberry and cucumber slices and announces it's a paleo party!

I take a slice of frozen strawberry. As I bite into it, I wake up.


Dream 2: Spidermen feet

In this dream I am driving along the Warringah freeway northbound. I'm not certain but I think I am in my own car. Looking towards the left, I see E driving a dark blue van and wonder why she is driving that sort of vehicle.

The car is able to read my mind and sends a text to her automatically. She replies asking me to pull over to a small street (which doesn't exist in real life). As we pull up I see a huge Kennard's storage.

What are you doing here? I ask her

I am delivering Que's baby clothes. She replies.

We get out of our cars and go to hug each other. She is wearing an extremely skimpy top which barely covers anything. As we put our arms around each other she suddenly says hey your pants are on backwards!

She starts trying to adjust my shorts (they are the dark green ones from Uniqlo) backwards but of course it doesn't work. As I start laughing at her attempts to do so, I look down and see spidermen feet. I jump and wake up.


Dream 3: Jag's goats
(Unfortunately most of this dream is lost)

It starts with me and Elsie discussing the size of the house she has just bought - she says its 45 square metres but I say that that is impossible.

The scene cuts to a beautiful farm. The hills are rolling and green, as if it has just rained. I pull up outside the farm gate and walk up the driveway. Far away Jag is waving at me. She is dressed simply in overalls and looks tanned and happy.

As I get closer I realise she is surrounded by goats. Lots of them, all brown goats. She is chasing them around trying to grab them by the front legs, with variable success.

Just hang on one moment! I have to find the right one to milk. She calls out to me. Then I wake up


 

Dream in LA: retirement soup in a supermarket

This dream starts in a non descript supermarket. B and I are shopping, and as we go around the aisles it becomes apparent that the supermarket is entirely vegan. We fill our baskets with mushrooms, fresh vegetables, rice vermicelli.. lots of goodies. B is really excited and almost skipping around the supermarket.

As we get to the counter we see a small display of lollies - we pick up a bag of luridly pink gummies and drop it into the basket. The checkout man scans all our items and asks us whether we want the luridly pink gummies in the same bag or separately.

Will you be eating in or taking out?

I look around me and realise that we are actually in a hotpot restaurant and the "supermarket" is the shopping part of the hotpot restaurant. We take our purchases to a table nearby where there is a gas stove built into the table.

Try as we may, we cannot start the stove. B suggests that we go back to ask the checkout man. When I get there he is busy on his phone and barely glances up. He says that we should be able to figure it out ourselves. I give up and tell him to bring the soup over.

He lifts a giant 5L (the reference came from how in the US milk comes in gallons) bottle over the counter - the stock for our soup. Though it's a huge bottle, it is surprisingly light in my hands. I unscrew the top and look at it - only a little grey fluid is lurking at the bottom and it looks extremely unappetising.

I read the bottle and it says in Chinese:
Essence of life!
For retirees! 
This product has multiple purposes to preserve life
including boosting your immune system
and preventing bone breakdown

I feel confused and wakeup

Dream: a non existent address in the forest

This dream starts in the carpark of my apartment. Being inside it’s hard to know what time of the day it is. Everything looks fairly unremarkable; P and I are standing next to my car, both wearing Miami J collars. My collar is bright red and his collar is the usual dark blue variety. We try to kiss goodbye but our collars clash and we cannot reach each other.

Drive carefully, you already have a broken neck. He touches my arm and I get into the car.

I drive alone for a long time, and eventually reach a very rural area. The road meanders down some green hills and I come to a rusty looking farm gate. The driveway is gravelly and there are no signs of life all around. I pull up at the farmhouse and get out of the car. The fibro cottage is quaint and surrounded by a few rosebushes.

Suddenly my mother rushes out of the house.

Hurry, we must go now. She grabs at my arm and pulls me down a side path leading away from the house. There is a man that is trying to kill me.

We get further and further away from the house until it is just a dot in the distance. Crossing a flat field, we come to a dense forest. As we are about to enter the forest I ask her whether we should tell someone where we are going.

If you want, but really we have to hurry. She says.

I take out my phone and open the Whatsapp conversation with P. I start typing the address 45a / 127 but the phone keeps erasing the address over and over again. I cannot even get to the street address (I never find out what it is) because it erases itself so many times.

Without noticing, we have gone further into the forest. The canopy becomes increasingly dense and the light fades gradually. I hardly realize how I am tripping on the roots of the old trees, so concentrated I am on trying to send the address.

But it is a futile task as the message keeps erasing itself. I look up and see just how dark it has become, but suddenly I see a clearing in the distance, a funnel of light peeking through the trees.

As we get closer, I am filled with anticipation at the thought of light.

Then I see a fat and balding middle aged man I do not recognise, standing in the middle of the clearing. He is holding a huge curved knife, not unlike the ones in the pirate movies.

I feel chilled to the core with the realisation I am going to die. Then I wake up.

Dream: the revolution, and two hands

P and I are sitting on a bus. It's hard to tell where we are - the bus is neither old nor new, and looks non descript enough that it could be anywhere in the world.

Looking out the window, it is clear that we are in the countryside. At first the fields look fairly normal - sort of green, lots of farmers milling about, the odd cow. Then I look closer and everything is weird. There is a windmill next to a farmhouse which has rainbow coloured blades, and when it whirs together the windmill looks like a technicolour extraordinaire. A group of farmers walk past, dressed as clowns with luridly white faces and strange wigs. Oddly shaped unidentifiable objects are sitting in the middle of fields, as if they were droppings from alien spaceships.

I need to show you something. P suddenly says. But I can't show you right now.

He punches the window and it shatters noiselessly. At that moment the bus tilts slightly to the left and he takes the opportunity to jump out the window before I can say anything to him. As the bus drives off I look out the window and he is running along a muddy track in the fields, wearing thick black-rimmed glasses. But he doesn't wear glasses, I thought to myself.

I move into his window seat and keep looking outside at the strange landscape. The bus meanders along and we come to a ricketty bridge. The bus groans its way onto the bridge and moves so slowly that we can feel every sway of the bridge. Suddenly there is an impossibly loud bang, and I hear the noise before I feel the motion of my body through the air. The bus has exploded and I am flying through the air, falling helplessly.

And then I am sitting perfectly still inside a boat. I don't remember the actual fall or how I came to be there, but I am sitting on a little stool in front of a table. Next to me is an old man wearing a broad rimmed hat, and next to him sits an old lady wearing a shawl, with her long grey hair in plaits. They talk to each other in a language that I don't understand. I look around and try to gather some clues, but aside from the green bobbing water, I can see very little. The riverbank is so high that I can no longer see the fields, so I don't even know if I am still in the strange land.

Suddenly, P appears from nowhere. The boat is so small that it just barely fits me and the old couple, so I wonder where he has come from. He sets down a few dishes on the small table and the old couple gestures for me to join their lunch, even though I don't understand what they are saying.

P whispers to me, this is the president and his wife. They are peering at us curiously and I wonder how such an old man could be the president. You have to distract them while the revolution is going on. 

I look at the dishes set out - fish stew with rice, and a pot of soup with the lid still on. The old lady is tucking in with gusto, picking out bones from the fish as she eats hungrily. The old man chews slowly, as if he is deep in thought. Everything is silent and the atmosphere feels thick and hostile.

They gesture again for me to eat.
No como pescado. I say to them.

They laugh and the lady sucks on a bone she has picked out from between her teeth. The old man gestures to the soup. I open the lid and it looks like lamb soup (I don't know how I come to this conclusion in the dream). There are speckly fatty bits floating on top of the soup and it looks highly unpalatable, but I think to myself that I should drink some soup to appear friendly.

I take my plate of rice and dip the soup ladle in to get some soup, trying to miss the chunks of lamb bones. My ladle brings up soup.. and a hand, a human hand cut off at the wrist. It can only be a human hand in that shape - perfectly shaped finger nails, a few hairs on the first phalanx - a man's hand. I gasp and drop the ladle with the hand in it back into the soup. The sound of the splash alerts the old man and he narrows his eyes at me. Shaking whilst pretending to be calm, I pick up the ladle and try again - this time I get the other hand - and there it is, a pair of hands, the left and right hands staring at me from the ladle.

My heart pounds wildly and I open my mouth to scream. I feel P's large warm palm clamp itself over my mouth, slightly damp (from sweat? from blood?). It stops my scream from forming. Then I wake up.

(The first vivid dream of 2016)