Ports and storms and dreams...

Ports and storms, any and safe, hope washed against the rocks springing eternal. Such strange and unreal times, bringing such dreams.

For one reason and another mainly to do with learning, I’ve been asked to find a suitable notebook and keep it by the side of my bed at night. It’ll be my ‘dream book’, a book where I can catch and capture my dreams at the moment of waking and record them for consideration later.

I’ve bought a small, unlined white paper book covered in purple and blue peacocks. The images seemed right for a ‘dream book’ and sometimes, just as I wake, I’m sure that I can hear peacocks calling in the distance. It has a light blue elastic cord that can be wrapped around its covers to keep them closed; no need for locks and keys, for secrecy or shame, my dreams are here for all to see. I wear them like a suit of armour, even though they still let the arrows in.

Dreams, I have them all the time. I’ll keep my peacock patterned book, but I’ll place some here to share with you; and if ever I learn what they all mean I’ll share that too.

Last night – One:

I’m in a huge dark green-blue-black lake with mountains all around me. I’m dressed in trunks and goggles and I’m wearing a swimming cap. The water is cold and very, very deep. Small choppy waves surround me. I’m not swimming, I have a box like boat thing in front of me, its motor whirs as I hold it stiffly out in front of me and it slowly pulls me along. I flap my feet to aid my progress. I think I’m wearing flippers.

I glance to my left and two divers appear, surfacing out of the water all dripping. They look at each other and then dive down again and are gone. I notice that there are many boats on the water all around me, mainly rowing boats, but some sails and motors. It may be a race, I’m not sure.

Suddenly I'm thrown up and out of the water as one of the diver’s surfaces beneath me. I’m panicked and let go of my square, black craft. The engine splutters and dies and it begins to sink. I try to stop it, but it's too heavy for me and it slips beneath the water. I watch it as it drifts down, feeling helpless. The diver looks towards me and swims off with his friend, quickly and strongly.

I try to swim but I seem to have lost my strength. I begin to splutter and my mouth fills with water, I’m choking. I cry for help and an old man with a bushy white beard, wearing a sailor captain’s cap begins to row his varnished wooden boat toward me. He’s smoking a pipe and wearing a dark blue turtle-neck sweater. The smoke leaves a trail behind him as he carefully rows.

From nowhere another boat appears on my left hand side and next to me. It’s being rowed by another man who is so similar to the man in the other boat that they could be twin brothers. He looks at me and tells me to get into the boat, but to be careful not to capsize it. The man in the other boat nods and then begins to row away.

A young woman with a short, dark bob sits at the other end of the boat manning the tiller. She has green eyes and smiles at me as I roll into the boat. The boat moves from side to side, but doesn’t rock too badly and I fall into it and lie panting on its bottom. The man passes me a blanket. I wrap myself in it and sit there shivering in the boat.

I awake. (3.30am)

Last night - Two:

I’m working at a hotel or a school where there’s a large hall. Sometimes I think it’s a hotel and other times a school. Groups of tourists and classes of girls in their late teens wander around.

I’m in charge of building a deep pool in the hall, in the corner by the door. It takes up about a quarter of the area of the hall and is very deep and completely square. I’ve built it out of concrete and then covered it with chipboard and laminate flooring so that when it’s not in use it can be walked upon.

The pool is full of tropical fish, they dart and flash in the water, but beneath at the lower depths, other creatures have broken through into the pool through a crack in the concrete. Small aquatic dinosaurs are in the water, they’ve broken through from prehistoric times and are eating the fish.

I put up a danger sign, and then I notice that the chipboard has become wet and unstable and the laminate paper thin. It bends and ripples when I carefully put my foot on it. It isn’t safe to walk on and I can see through it slightly. It’s like looking through dirty frosted glass and I can see the creatures swimming around just beneath the surface. They have sharp teeth.

A group of girls enters the hall and walks towards the pool. I shout and tell them not to walk on the floor above the water but one of them doesn’t listen, steps onto the unstable surface, and begins to walk towards the door. The others stand nervously at the edge of the pool and watch her in silence.

She’s half way across and still walking, the floor beneath her feet quivering dangerously. I know her; it is Kim, a young woman who used to work for me many years ago. The floor splits wide and she falls into the water. The surface of the water boils as the small prehistoric monsters rise from the depths. One of the other girls reaches out with impossibly long arms, grabs Kin under the armpits and slowly pulls her back through the water and up onto the edge. She’s safe.

The dark water becomes still.

I awake. (6.10am)

Ports and storms, any and safe, hope washed against the rocks springing eternal. Such strange and unreal times, bringing such dreams of dark water and potential drownings, mysterious divers, miniature monsters, dark danger, sea captains – what does it all mean?

I’ll keep my book. I might make sense of it, who knows?