Tag Archives: Dream Sequence

Laughing in my Sleep

I took shape… I was like a dolphin with endorphins… an endolfin maybe,

and all the while, somebody was flying around at ground level;

on a rolled up gym mat.

Yet, the children walked by, never blinking an eye; it was the only thing they could do whilst getting lost in the playfields.

It was then, when i had returned; waist deep in pond water; lifting a sorry flower from the aqua; reminding me of intricate, unfolding origami, it bloomed instantly in my wrinkled palm.

Oh… me and the encompassing crowd,

we barked and clapped like a close knit colony of slow-motioned seals; high on friendship and wonder.

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Rising Fall

Losing my grip now,

and so gravity ensures

my future’s prescribed.

Gently tumbling;

prolonging, 

buoyant;

like a fleck of fresh dust.

How structure and design

now discards me;

to unearth odd ceilings;

calmly engage my feet;

on hovering,

flirtatious,

ground.

 

New Old Woodlandia

 

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Earlier, you found yourself at an edge of woodland; you stood at its beginning or its end, you couldn’t begin to tell.

Impatiently, the trees blurred together, all around you, trees branches holding others that spun ever wilder, entwining into an eye-shattering carousel.

In the loop, you do not know or fear the time it takes for the motion to slow, winding down, tired, the branches let go, clumsily flicking leaves at each other,  like young children; engaged in dance, then distracted, but always pure and in play.

You, look around you with your peripheral vision desensitised, you were somewhere else, just left of wherever’s’ centre; you could breathe deeply, consistently as one; with a carpet of mimicking leaves.

Now, feeling so spongy underfoot, you’re subtly falling and rising, falling and rising in exact time with your steady pulse; you were now at the heart of everything.

 

Today, I Buried the Car

Today, I buried the car under the garden, or enterrer la voiture sous la Jardin; it makes no difference to me. As I sit on its corroded roof of raised ochre paint and brushed steel. By coincidence, I sit at sea level to distant oceans that are full of old weather and distress.

I know there is never a sea that’s forever as level as this laid lawn, and so I recall, on purpose I left the engine running. So it is that I’m repeated to fade as time delays the dream in which I sit, statuesque, waiting on my cars dented roof, for something to erase what I didn’t mean.

Then, suddenly the car drives through the soil, searching for oil. I’m destined to travel with it. With consummate ease, I’m driven forwards, for I assume that is where I face, and above an underground road, with all speediest motion of the most stubborn small hand of a basic clock, through terrain as varied as the subconscious memories of the recent dead.

My progress never slows until I discover the edge of this world dissolving like an old cake from age, churned from its constant turning. Now I’ve slipped into another world, of some sense. As I arrive, seamlessly through a subtle zipped window, I’m suddenly driving through dull traffic, so dense; with the clumsy authority of a process mounted car on set. I’m steering the wheel, it’s looser than I imagined, it’s no use, and the scenery is a little disjointed from the direction I steer in. Maybe the next world will find me before I find it! Or before I find the brakes.

Clockwork Waterfall

So we decided to drive up the waterfall, but the waterfall was redundant and

dry. While travelling vertically; the impossible was performed with ease, I

couldn’t help but wear a fixed smile until arriving at its crest.

Then a tarn with tranquil water, slick and so pure with

elaborately carved structures floating: some were peacefully rotating.

I noticed they were broken, perhaps abandoned before completion. It was at

that moment  I had forgotten why we… but more now I, was there at all.

Somehow without trying, I walked forwards, sure-footed: leaving behind what

had vanished behind me.

Now everything was much closer, and silent, with timely rushes of air, pressed

intermittently at my cheek; forced gently by numerous random walls from

what were now replica houses made from wood.

Clocklike and clockwise, suddenly in the far distance I see faceless builders as

undisturbed artists that do not seem to care, and the placid water

nearby does not respond to the continuous stirring upon it. The half buildings

have reversed the effects of time, and suddenly I must go… where? I do not

know.

The Flawed (The Music’s Over)

The four of them sat waiting nervously: Average Man, 6th Sense Woman, The Vague, and Mr De’Ath.

Suddenly, over to their right, the one and only door swung inward; expelling pure white light bleaching them, equally. One by one, they stood and walked at half-speed into the overexposure; causing their bodies to be at first outlined, then dissolved and eaten hungrily by it.

As soon as they were no longer visible as the characters they resembled, the door behind them creaked in heavy, reverberating delay; closing ever-so-slowly. The room now settled into its own blank atmosphere once more, with only the sound of distant screams for its company.

Psychedelic Leopard Spots

The fact that I have just seen a minuscule leopard; no bigger than my thumb; nonchalantly roaming between the taller blades of grass in my front garden was not as surprising as I would’ve first imagined.

Then I notice a tiny family of three; lying down not so far away from the minuscule leopard; the baby is twice the size of its assumed parents and the Leopard. Somehow I overlook this irregularity in scale and look away, determined to see what else that I can find that defeats logic. Inevitably, they all vanish before I look back on my search for absolute confirmation.

Feeling aggrieved, I sense that I’m being watched — but still I scan the garden; my mannerisms acquire some semblance of pretense loss, as all I see now is scattered autumnal leaves. Within a matter of moments I disregard the miniature marvels; I smile, subtly, as I come to the conclusion that I’m very temporarily insane.

I continue to walk to the gate and plan my route to work as usual.

The Witch

DaddyDaddy!” I hear the fear in a small, distant voice.

Suddenly I am half awake.

Then I hear,Daddy!and the voice, less small and no longer distant.

I bolt upright in my bed; groggy, confused, heavy, drugged by my sleep.

“Ok, Ok, I’m coming I’m coming, what’s the matter? I’m coming!” I reply.

I take a glance at my wife’s uninterrupted sleep, I can’t see her, more feel her… She is there. With my eyes, not yet adjusted to the dark, I step out of bed and stumble clumsily. Using my left thigh like a blind man’s stick, I bounce, to and fro from the edges of my bed.

Until, eventually, I make it somewhere near my bedroom door, and I grab at it with more luck than judgement. I find the handle and pull the door open with more force than necessary. Gingerly I step onto the landing and find my son opening the door to his bedroom to meet me.

“What’s the matter darling?” I ask with whispered concern.

“There’s a witch in my room!” he whimpers. As I kneel down to his eye level he walks into the top of my shoulder and nuzzles his cheek into mine, I rub his back.

“A witch, Oh, there’s no witch,” I whisper calmly into his ear. There’s a temporary hush in background noise, then I notice the wind rush, buffet our house. I acknowledge the weather for the first time; it’s invisible force throws smaller unknown objects into the much larger and more guessable ones.

“It’s just the wind,” I say.

I kiss him on his cheek; looking over his little shoulder and into his bedroom, I notice something strange moving in my son’s bed.

Whatever it is writhes like a large worm, slithering in the darkness, I stare, panicked by its nonsense until the duvet cover falls away, exposing a face, it has my son face, no, it is my son.

In bed, my son calmly asks me, “Daddy, what are you doing?”

I’m unable to answer, for my shock injects itself into my rapidly beating heart, pumps a poison round my veins, I rot internally and then in no time at all, I pass out.

Shock of a Fairground Fire

I could just make out the rotating horses, hear them; braying in the fire, leaping above an abusive smoke.

It seemed that despite the ever loosening grip on their painted reigns, the deafening funfair did not cease to roar upon it, with hellish flames.

Accompanied then by sounds of yesterday’s children, I witnessed the horses escape to the fields of evergreen.

I and them, together, they then turned and shared my shock of a fairground fire; hungry for what remained of their vintage carousel.

Customer vs Shopkeeper

‘Hello, I wondered if you c—‘

‘Help you? Yes I can’

‘Oh…ok great, well, are you able t—‘

‘Yes, yes I can do that for you.’

‘I’m sorry but can you please s—‘

‘Stop Interrupting! Sorry, no, I can’t possibly do that!’

‘Ok, well I’ll–‘

‘Go somewhere else?’

‘Yes! Sorry but, but do you do this t–‘

‘All my customers…yes I’m afraid I do, is it–‘

‘Annoying! Yes! Yes it bloody well is!’

‘Ah, but you’ve been here before you see, not five minutes ago, asking me for the same thing. Actually, every-day, you come in everyday and ask for something, we always have this conversation.’

‘Oh, sorry I–‘

‘No its fine, really, please come again.’

‘But I’ve forgotten what I came in for now!’

‘Precisely, it’s your conscience you see. I have lots of other customers identical to you and they never come in for the reason they thought they did. They just feel they need to.’

‘Really, what shop is this anyway? What do you sell?’

‘Shop! This isn’t a shop! No, no, no, this is, I mean to say I am…This is your conscience, like I was saying, we, we together are your conscience. It’s always like this. You see, your real-self is actually out there, outside of here, somewhere.’

‘Ok. Well if that’s the case I’m gonna go now, out there, Ok, get some air.’

‘Goodbye yes, goodbye, you were going earlier as well weren’t you, but then, yet again you needed some filling in, as always, anyway, goodbye it is then.’

‘Hello, I wondered if you can –‘

‘Help you? Yes I can.’

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