Wednesday, July 28, 2010

conflict resolution

A community of people that I love, friends from far away and near. Every social interaction is a dance, not metaphorically but literally, we cross a hallway in metred dance, steps and dos-see-dos, cross-sectioned waltz. Elaborate bouffant hairdos and skirts with whalebone forms.

In a room with X and Y, again I fall asleep within the dream (suspect Inception is to blame for this recurrence). Pure exhaustion, unable to keep my eyes open, sun burns through the walls in blasted tiring light, there is no heat. X is trying to convince Y that I'm okay, that I'm good, harmless, but Y is suspicious. I wake to provide advice about outfits, events, make recommendations, sew on sequins, smile. Y comes around, smiles in turn, they go off to one of the millions of balls, shiny masked carnival. I retire to my room, happily, my dun coloured plain dress folded on my bed, softest of the softest cotton, my bed whitened, bleached sheets, hills of duvet.

I'm only a tinge sad to miss the party, more grateful for the softness of my invisibility, the plainness of my outfit, the wonderful anonymity, privacy, safety. Go to sleep in the dream, smiling. Smell of clean linen, spring breeze, bleach.

Wake up in Ottawa: not smiling. Dislike when my dreams try to resolve things too cleanly, come to neat resolutions that can never happen. Dream too vividly and I wake confused.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

polar expedition

Kidnapped, held for days on boats in the polar ocean, which were forced to race against one another, full crews, through icy water full of clumped ice shards. My boat's name Apolline, kidnapper hitting its flank with the palm of his hand, like a racehorse.

Released, somehow, most people survived, the boats turned into adrenaline coursed pleasure boats. Start off point near Niagara Falls which has grown colder, merged with the polar ocean, grown shorter and more powerful. Overwhelmingly loud pounding noise of the water. Decide to re-board my boat, on a crew with uneasy friends, they're surprised I'm willing to take this trip. We had to swim to the boat, through hip level frozen water, the menace of sharks, great whites.

We're going to meet S. later, have to get directions for her, from X, who thanks me, we end up half-drifting to sleep together on the couch, his arm weighted around my shoulder, drifting into this exhausted memory of before, before I wake myself with a start from the courch, get up and walk away. He stumbles after me a little then gives up. I know it's only a dream/memory and I can't let myself fall asleep there.

To a parapet, watching the dark blue water which is laced with ice, icebergs, and white whales that puncture the surface of the water. A mother and her calf, giant white whales, not belugas but albino sperm whales, like Moby Dick. The sky is so cold and an entirely different shade of blue, pale and sudden.

Friday, July 23, 2010


Asleep 2 hours, waking from a dream of someone entering my room. He was a sketch in sepia, blocky like an extruded lego man. I saw him slip in from the dark hall and approach my bedside. his face was dark by the window, made darker by the stormy night coming in. He opened his mouth and a photo-real penis stuck out instead of a tongue. He backed away a step and unzipped his pants. Thick facial lips pursed from the fly.

Waking I realized its meaning. I slept with the door unlocked. Unconscious wants not threat so much as protect.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


A reading in the Big City, crowds of people, swarms. Some writers that I knew not speaking to me, the readers themselves speaking out of turn, jostling, sometimes fists. Return home to D., who pulls two full bottles of booze, from a giant vending machine. I was hoping for rum but they're a Serbian strong liquour and a bottle of whisky. Don't like either, but he tries to make me drink them.


Semi-Famous Writer rings our door, blackmails us w/ a tape of what she's seen. Everything on the tape is hyper-coloured, sweats with life. It grows larger-than. He is devastated and angry, pulling apart seams. I am pragmatic, erase tape from her digital camera, acknowledge there are other copies sent somewhere, feel certainty, dread. Give her back her things: digital camera, computer, etc. I tell her it was nice to meet her. That I'm sorry. SFW becomes concerned at this point, tries to keep me from leaving, wants to help. She can't.

Go upstairs to lie down, because now I'm in a tower, with endless steps, at the top, with no roof, only the bed and this wickedly huge blue sky. A sextuplet of rainbows. I look at them and know what it means. I curl up on the bed and wait for what I know is coming.

Monday, July 19, 2010


My friend heavily pregnant, birthing babies of all different shapes and descriptors. I'm in the delivery room. Lights that flickered on/off and sometimes I'm the one pregnant and sometimes I'm just the friend and sometimes I'm the doctor and there are all these little lights everywhere tiny flames.

One fat happy pink girl who smiled in my arms. I protected her head w/ the crook of my elbow, such soft little blonde bits of hair. Her pudgy hand gripping my finger tight and her eyes beautiful blue grey and just an overwhelming feeling of softness and sadness.

Thursday, July 15, 2010


flickering set of dreams, four or five, laid out flat like on a drive-in movie screen. was primarily observing, though sometimes the film would suck me in and i'd become a participant. the first something of carnival animals, all the colours garish, set loose in jungle. a horror.

the second a romantic comedy. everything frilled pink. lace. each particle delineated into baroque frets and spikes.

the third film noir. my lips painted sharp poinsetta red. liquids of all colours in glasses. a detective holding the brim of his hat. lonesome sob under fluorescent signage. street wet with rain.

the final film abstract. scenes blurring together, lack of cohesion, everything's moving too quickly. ebbs and flows like water. I see him across a stretch of that lake of blur, and am afraid for him, want to protect. stick out my hands. wake up.

Monday, July 12, 2010


In my glass office tower, I'm waiting alone for a piece of paper to be passed to me so I can go. Sunshine comes in. I'm in no hurry. There's nothing but leisure after this and that can start early. I can see the city below, tiny ant people, and eventually I see the gliding of an arc swing my way in the skyline. It is my cherry-red hover motorcycle. It parks across the street, hovering a few yards up the light post. We've arranged the time and it won't wait long. There it goes. I'll catch another.

Released I'm walking thru a park, sunshine and grass at my feet, a crushed velvet cherry gown against the backs of my legs. I hear children's voices singing. Over the rise of hill there's a garden by a stream. A couple adults stand among the preschoolers. Their small voices, a little out of time with another but joyful, sing chorally in Chinese. I can catch parts. An adult seems to be using the flower bed as a bar of music and the part with the line of mustard-yellow flowers is the word ship. I watch for a while, catch the rhythm and carry a few sounds under my breath as I walk on.

A depot to meet up with another hover-motorcycle. I can see friends waiting. It's a three seater. One brings the craft down to street level. Another straightens the blanket in the back and makes room for me.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

in the way some dreams feel matter-of-fact normal

Nice to wake up relaxed from a leisurely lie-in dream, casual, relaxed naked chat. When more awake realized the person was Duncan, a priest, naked. ah. oh. um. hm.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Paddling One's Group Canoe

O and J and B and I were canoeing a swamp in one long canoe. We all paddled and chatted. The temperature was perfectly warm. There were no bugs. The mood was light.

There was no wind and no ripples except what we made. The only sun winks on the flat surface were where something disrupted the edge of a lily pad. Edges of reeds and duck weeds and to the sides drowned grey cedars. The middle patch of the water was narrow but we explored around a large area thru it.

At some point we were near shore and I declared that I needed to get in to register for high school before it closed. O gently humoured me and remarked on how you are probably a graduate since you were done university, last I heard. But you could go again. A private school would be a different experience and all experience is good. But, how about we all have lunch first? I know a bookstore that makes a great soup. There was general murmering of assent from the others.

With a mental grimace at green and navy plaid mini skirt mandate of the other option, I decided to go to the bookstore to eat.

At the stone inn, there were little cafe tables. By a riverstone wall was a fireplace cinder-blacked and with the set up to cook.

We sat by there at a square table. I sat at the end. Beside me was a 7- or 8-year-old redhead. He was there to meet people and mingle. The boy made small talk in a clear high voice. His eyes were clear and alert without reservations.

When he turned to me he asked what I do. I said, I write. He said it would be really good for me to show other people. Maybe send some out? I assured him that I was, I had. His look was patronizing in a kind-indulgent way. Do more, he urged me.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

in the morning a man from the heavens

As I worked at weeding the edge of my mom's empty garden, there was a helicopter noise and one came down low and a yellow kayak and a man in a wet suit, started falling towards me.

I looked down and the garden had become a tiled, soffetted ceiling around a shallow gazing pool. Still a dangerous landing for diving I thought but waving my arms would not stop them from falling.