27/11/10
Bit of an unusual dream last night…two dreams in fact, the first of which left me with a pounding heart because the last part was scary.
So, IN the first dream I am in a group and we are doing some sort of visit. My first memories in the dream are of us all at the top of a cliff. Not sure what we were doing before that, possibly we were on an inspection tour of somewhere, anyway, whatever we were doing, I volunteer to go down the cliff to the next level, where there is a lake, and a guy working to the side of the lake on an up-thrust in the cliff wall. I negotiate my way down the cliff and skirt the lake, which is looking a bit like a rice paddy – it’s certainly warm, and the old gentleman is Asian. He is busy scooping/carving out the rock from the cliff and I ask what he’s doing.
‘I’m building a new tunnel’ he says, and I ask what it’s for.
‘To get down to the lower level and the beach.’
‘Why?’ I ask, ‘There’s already a tunnel’ (or I say something like that – there certainly is another tunnel there)
‘They only last a year.’
And he explains how he will go into the cliff a certain amount, before making a right hand turn and digging until he hits the beach.
By this time my colleagues have joined me and decide that they want to see the beach. The old man shakes his head and goes back to digging his cave. Obviously he knew what was coming, though I didn’t twig to it in the dream. Because I volunteered to go into the tunnel first – which was, most unusually a set of steps like you would find in a hotel or hospital. Pale grey and white walls, lino covered flooring and emergency exit lights. The stairs spiralled around and ended at the bottom with a straight run of metal steps with pipe bars as bannisters. At the far side of the room is a door – a very heavy door and a see through plastic screen. It’s a struggle to get through this plastic screen – you need to squeeze under it – most of us are through and are wandering the beach – including Ian Stimpson an old lecturer from uni, when Gareth from work opens the plastic door, walks through and starts conferring with Stimmo. Then I overhear their conversation – it’s all about storms and looking in the direction they are looking I see at the very edge of the beautiful blue sky with pale orange/terracotta, primrose clouds (it has a lovely fresh feeling like the beaches in south Wales – cool, a fresh breeze and a pebble beach) – and I see the brooding darkness of storm clouds. Gareth mentions something about three storm systems converging – a disastrous combination, when the sea starts to rise up in front of us in massive waves, I am standing right by the door, and dive into the cave again, and Noni Khandola (a Pakistani lad I knew at secondary school) dive in. Others try to reach the cave, but the water washes them away, and Noni slams the emergency door closed by pushing the emergency close button that causes the door to slide shut and slam too -I see hands scraping the rock, desperately trying to cling to the rock and the door and I beg Noni to open the door, but he yells it would be suicide (he’s had a better look at the waves than me) and then the water crashes against the door, it bulges at the force of it, and water starts pouring through around the edges. I scream that we need to run, but I can’t seem to move – it’s like running through honey and I realise I will die down there – at which point I woke up, heart pounding. Scarey stuff that last bit!
There was another dream last night too, once I had finally calmed down (it took a cup of tea and a bit of web surfing (and I typed the dream out to get it out of my system) There was a weird gardening guy – pretty much related to the Secret Garden book/film and also (in a very round about way) to I’m a celebrity get me out of here – in that there were several weird plants and a small group – we were to meet together at ten am the next morning. I am wandering around this guys garden, when I bump into the guy. He’s a decidedly odd fellow – a ratty face and quite old – late fifties or sixties, and we get talking, there’s a bit where he twigs that I am ‘a fellow gardening type’ and he really warms to me after that, leading me off to see his private garden which he is really proud of. I keep telling him about my group and how we are meting later, and he seems enthusiastic, so I tell him I will tell the others and suggest he joined the group. Then he unlocks the doors to the gate, and leads me into this beautiful walled garden – the rest of the garden that’s open to the public is sort of a narrow and follows the river (vaguely resembling the river Ribble and Moor Park (or possibly Miller Park in Preston) with various levels and terraces and slopes, this walled garden too is like that, only it’s chock full of really rare plants – edible and otherwise – he seems to specialise in rare and old varieties of plants. I keep looking at my watch and see that it’s coming up to ten am and can’t remember whether the meeting is at ten or not – and I have a sickening feeling it is, so I have to say good by to this man who can be incredibly touchy. And then I woke up
Scribbles and Jottings 