Monday, September 13, 2010

Look, about this dream...

OK, so before I forget entirely.

I was on a river barge, you know the sort that people take on canal holidays in Europe, but this was a bit larger, with angled-out windows all around below decks, and the interior was thus very spacious and light-filled.  It was on Sydney Harbour somewhere, and the dream started out as we were mooring at some small dock.

There were three of us on board (at this point anyway), British comedian David Mitchell, who was apparently sort of hiding out from paparazzi, myself of course, and my good friend with whom I'd hired this barge for a getaway, Kylie Minogue (we've not met in waking life, but in the dream she was like an old friend).  There was some nervousness about the person or persons who would be boarding when we docked, and David Mitchell was sort of skulking in a corner of the main 'room', leaning against the bulkhead and glancing frettingly at the doorway every now and then.  Kylie and I were tidying up, putting away books and records lying about on the couches, and I was remarking mentally that where I had to duck through doorways, Kylie had no such issues.  Being, as she is, short.  The feeling of nervousness rose, and it had something to do with us having our privacy invaded by this mysterious expected visitor or visitors.

It suddenly occurred that I'd not yet seen the 'master cabin' at the stern, which you reached through an ancient-looking wooden door over on the starboard side.  Through the door I see that the stern is nicely rounded, with windows all about, and that the room, like the main cabin, has walls panelled with a light coloured timber and in parts is rendered in earth.  There is a strange sort of half-stove/half-fireplace in earth built in to one wall (the wall adjoining the main cabin, but no bed to be seen.  Then I spy on an armchair (which I suddenly know folds out to form a bed) this sort of semi-transclucent hologram ghosty image of the barge's owner, Russel Crowe, looking dejected and sad.  He notices me, but doesn't make eye contact, as if to say that he wasn't really there anyway and really doesn't feel like a chat.  He will disappear in a minute.

I am back in the main cabin when our visitor arrives.  I either did not know then or cannot remember now who this was, but I have the impression of someone older, not an official customs-type person, but someone with links to that way of being.  Very suddenly, I realise that there is a cloth bag (like my old primary school library bag, a cloth sack with a drawstring) sitting out on top of the back of one of the couches, containing a couple of large cheese-wedge shapes.  Turning my back nonchalantly to the visitor I swipe it up in one hand (I am perfectly physically 'normal' in this dream, btw) and shielding it with my body move over to a sort of kitchen serving-hatch and hand it through to Kylie Minogue, who looks relieved when she takes it and stows it somewhere.  I knew that it contained a couple of ounces of pot - you know, marijuana.

We leave the dock minus the visitor and David Mitchell goes up on deck.  Russell is gone, and Kylie and I look at each other in a way that says 'we can relax now.'

The dream then cuts to a whole scene with my Mum and Dad in my childhood kitchen and some really easily understood stuff about family etc.  There are no fabulous revelations there, but there might be some connection.  The family dream stuff was all about my father's sense of guilt (he died some years ago in waking life, btw) about money and such, and my judgmental annoyance about the way my parents have handled certain affairs over the years.  No problem per se, but I'm mentioning it because there might be some connection.

The Kylie/Russell/David/barge dream was so very clear and crystalline, but opaque in any meaning for me though.


1 comment:

  1. Hi Aadhaar, long time no see. That dream was relevant to me. I'll bid on it anyway because it's very like something that has happened to me in samsara.

    It happened in Sydney the day of the Cronulla riot. My girlfriend at the time (who was blonde and larger than life like Kylie and knows Russell Crowe) and I went sailing on the harbour with an older couple who were friends with British comedian John Cleese. He sometimes comes over to chill and sail with them away from the paparazzi of his homeland. We started a long way upstream from a tiny little jetty thing that didn't seem big enough for the boat and sailed out to Quarantine where I got seasick and chundered over the side a few times.

    I'd never sailed a yacht before, but as we got close to the harbour bridge, the guy said "Here you go, just keep the arrow pointing that way" and gave me the wheel. I'd never felt windpower before and didn't know how to control it. I'll spare you the details, but I ended up sailing the yacht under the bridge on its side with three other living beings on board and countless others all around. It was one of the biggest thrills of my life albeit one that left me in a cold sweat and could have easily ended in disaster.

    It was a beautiful day and the harbour was crowded like a living maritime meuseum. Those few minutes or seconds or whatever it was felt like frikken hours and the ferry from Manly was heading straight towards us. Anyway, the yacht eventually righted itself again despite my being in charge of it and the guy took the wheel back and all was well again.

    Back then, he and his wife were running the Australian branch of a well known publishing company, which is how he and his wife got to know Mr Cleese. My girlfriend and I visited them because we wanted to get away from it all too. We lived in Cronulla and for the few weeks leading up to that fateful weekend, we had been recieving text messages and emails saying that something big was going to go down. We didn't want to be there when it did so we went out sailing with that nice couple.

    Anyway, we drove home badly sunburnt, but rejuvinated having forgotten that there was trouble at home. When we drove back into town, there were police and ferals with flags everywhere, smashed up stuff all around the place and someone had been stabbed on the corner of our street. At that point I gained a greater appeciation for all the things I thought were shit about my family and childhood.

    I went to work the next day and hear all the dickheads there were bragging about what they'd done the day before. That evening, I went to the train station and a bunch of Lebanese guys wanting revenge decided they'd get their revenge with me and I had to run for it. Man, I wished I'd never gone to Sydney. All I was doing was chasing away my frustrations and all I did was compound them.

    It's funny you mention the cloth primary school bag because I still have mine. I keep my building tools and tool belt in it. I just looked through it now and I found that I had a bar of soap in it and soap has a similar consistency to cheese. I put the soap in there a while ago because I took the bag and the tools up north on a prospecting trip.

    Good catch, dreamer!

    Thanks and best wishes,

    David L. Evans