astronaut ambition

Dream #10

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Tue Jan 16 01 / 5:51 AM

I've really waited too long to remember this one, but the feeling still nags.

some night's dream:

I was in Renfrew, on main street, in a convertible, both driver and passenger. It was a parade with ticker tape and a crowd's screams in the air. I don't think I was in the parade exactly, it seemed more like this was the natural everyday state for driving in Renfrew. There were elements of sex: I wore a schoolgirl uniform, I flipped through a porn mag, I thought of flashing the policemen.

I arrived back home - an old home, the first I had in Renfrew before we moved a few times. I recognized this fact, but it didn't matter.

As I lounged in the garage, my old babysitter, a face I surely haven't seen in 10 years, drove up. Her arrival somehow precipitated the emergency climax of this dream ...

An old-fashioned scuba diver floated by the driveway as if the air were water - the kind with big round helmets, bulky suits, and an air line. The diver was in trouble, something was wrong with the air line: it was tangled, it was poisonous, I don't know. The only obviousness was the pressure building up inside the diver's helmet, and the prophetic images I kept seeing of a face exploded inside out.

I tried to help out. Frantically I pulled on the air line, scrambled at the diver's suit, stared into ever-widening eyes set into skin that was reddening, boiling inside.

I couldn't do it though. The air line wouldn't disconnect, the helmet wouldn't open. I stopped before it happened. I didn't want to see the result, I didn't want to be hurt in the explosion. I backed away. Not even wanting to, I took more steps backwards, leaving the diver to his fate.

It was one of those situations nearly come to life: if x happened, what would y do? You never think you'll be able to test yourself that way, so it is almost acceptable to believe that you'd surely perform bravely. But I backed away, to save myself and not another.

It was awful, I felt awful.

When it seemed the diver was about to succumb to the pressure, to gruesomely show me all that he'd always kept hidden inside - it stopped. The formless face morphed into the smooth appearance of an old woman. She floated away, looking at me once out of the corner of her eyes.

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Lisa Higgs

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*Dream #10*
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latest archive about email links yearbook japan photoblog wish list	Tue Jan 16 01 / 5:51 AM I've really waited too long to remember this one, but the feeling still nags. some night's dream: I was in Renfrew, on main street, in a convertible, both driver and passenger. It was a parade with ticker tape and a crowd's screams in the air. I don't think I was in the parade exactly, it seemed more like this was the natural everyday state for driving in Renfrew. There were elements of sex: I wore a schoolgirl uniform, I flipped through a porn mag, I thought of flashing the policemen. I arrived back home - an old home, the first I had in Renfrew before we moved a few times. I recognized this fact, but it didn't matter. As I lounged in the garage, my old babysitter, a face I surely haven't seen in 10 years, drove up. Her arrival somehow precipitated the emergency climax of this dream ... An old-fashioned scuba diver floated by the driveway as if the air were water - the kind with big round helmets, bulky suits, and an air line. The diver was in trouble, something was wrong with the air line: it was tangled, it was poisonous, I don't know. The only obviousness was the pressure building up inside the diver's helmet, and the prophetic images I kept seeing of a face exploded inside out. I tried to help out. Frantically I pulled on the air line, scrambled at the diver's suit, stared into ever-widening eyes set into skin that was reddening, boiling inside. I couldn't do it though. The air line wouldn't disconnect, the helmet wouldn't open. I stopped before it happened. I didn't want to see the result, I didn't want to be hurt in the explosion. I backed away. Not even wanting to, I took more steps backwards, leaving the diver to his fate. It was one of those situations nearly come to life: if x happened, what would y do? You never think you'll be able to test yourself that way, so it is almost acceptable to believe that you'd surely perform bravely. But I backed away, to save myself and not another. It was awful, I felt awful. When it seemed the diver was about to succumb to the pressure, to gruesomely show me all that he'd always kept hidden inside - it stopped. The formless face morphed into the smooth appearance of an old woman. She floated away, looking at me once out of the corner of her eyes.
	</>
Lisa Higgs
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