A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

I am in a very strange Dr. Who type setting, with black lines of varying thickness running along a white floor. I step on one and realize that the lines are actually about a foot lower than the floor, and I begin to walk them. Up one cross over and down the other. Along the way are almost-seen, but never quite solid objects. Suddenly, it occurs to me, as though I'm seeing myself from a higher vantage point, that I am walking within a gigantic bar code! Or perhaps I have become microscopic and become incorporated into one. The Doctor is constantly on my mind as I continue walking...

Now I find myself in what feels like a very old-fashioned 1940's type hotel. I am walking into a lavishly decorated ballroom - rich red walls set off with gold, huge crystal chandeliers, polished floor, small round tables set with sparkling glassware - at the end of which is a large orchestra pit. Musicians are walking in and taking their places. Almost automatically, I scan their faces for my father, because I recall him playing in these big band groups before, and here he would have played his saxophone and clarinet, instead of his cello. He is not here, and I feel disappointed.

There is tension among the musicians and among the staff. I get the impression that I have walked into a hornet's nest of some sort, and yet that's exactly what I'm to do, since I'm some sort of spy or secret agent.

Eventually, people begin to come in and the ballroom becomes filled with patrons a-glittering in their jewels and ball gowns and evening suits. I drift around taking note of details, such as the fact that the floor is now changed. It looks like half of it is wet and dark red. I wonder if something was spilled, and then realize that it's only the polish on the tiles. Somehow it changed from wood to tiles of dark burgundy red. It seems significant to me to note this.

I find a corner where I'm in the shadows, and in spite of my best efforts to stay awake, I realize that I'm falling asleep - and begin my out of body process. In seconds I am outside of myself and floating around the ballroom, even while I see myself slumped over the table. I come closer to myself and somehow find myself entangled in the tablecloth for a moment. "This is ridiculous - I pass through everything like smoke!" I think to myself, and immediately do just that. Taking up a vantage point wrapped around one of the chandeliers, I watch and listen to the proceedings...

Dreams - Exercise, Circle Dancing, Debt

I just remember small images from last night, and I have no idea as to how they all connect, or even if they do, but here is what I still retained:

1. Exercise - a formula of 1.5 was being repeated and stressed. If I can do one of something, I should try of half that again. If I could exercise for an hour I was to add another half-hour to that. I saw myself running around a gym, too. Maybe it's time to up the ante in my exercise program.

2. Dancing in a circle dance - I also remember sewing a long full skirt and threading the draw-string through the waist casing. The skirt was a bright red with some sort of small pattern in gold and green.

3. Paying off a long-standing debt - there were other people with me who were partially responsible for raking up that debt. It had something to do with a new television system. I struggled with this until one of the people said they would pay half of it. I think this part came from the fact that I ordered a High Definition system from my provider yesterday.

Survival and Life in the Arctic

I am waking up in a camp and slowly memory trickles down to me as to how I got there - the world has suffered a cataclysmic event and we are survivors who have formed a camp.  It is very cold, and as I look around I see that we are within some very icy caves.  People are stirring in their sleeping bags and life continues.

Time passes and we are more comfortable; some shelters have been built and now I see that there is a huge clear plastic structure that holds many troughs that will eventually have hydroponic plants.  Beside it is a set of stairs that I know is forbidden for most of us to climb.  I am one of the ones that can climb the stairs but only at certain times - this is one of them.  I am also feeling very tired, as though I have just completed a very strenuous day of work.

By the hanging baskets, I see a young black woman with a child.  She is arguing with a man who is working on them, and insisting on going up the stairs, and doesn't even notice as I slowly, very slowly make my way to the top.  There are two small side-by-side doors at the top.  Finally there, I open the left one and see what I already know I will see - a space the size of a mirror, totally impassable, but one that is small passage made completely out of ice and snow.  The end of this passage overlooks a very sophisticated office, filled with the most state-of-the art technology.  I listen for a moment, learning that all is going well, from two people, a man and woman in military uniforms, that pretend not to see this spy hole, but obviously sending me back a message by their conversation.

I close the door, and open the one next to it.  It is the same sort of setup, but goes to a different part of the cave system.  Again, through code, I am told that everything is okay.  I make my way slowly down the stairs weary to the bone.

As I make my way to my space, I see another woman and some of our "authorities" in an argument.  She insists on looking through some papers that  they are carrying, but is not allowed.  A deepening sense within me tells me that she is not ready for what they, and I know.  Setting my fatigue aside again, I pick up a small box and intercept this group casually.  While one man continues to engage in conversation with her, the other one, who is holding the papers, quietly slips them into the box quickly.  I walk away with them before she realizes what occurred.  The group disperses,  and as one of the man passes me, he whispers, "Thank you.  You saved this level again."

There is obviously a conspiracy going on here, but one that is very necessary.  And somehow, I am on the inside of that conspiracy, and I find it very disquieting.

Another passage of time - and now I find myself outside in the deep, dark forest that is starting to come to life again.  Although the air feels cold, there is a softness to it that speaks of a coming spring.  The other people with me stand in awe - for this is the first time we have gone out of the caves in many years.  Silently, reverently, we walk the still-slumbering earth, exclaiming softly whenever an animal crosses our path - like a skunk that has lost it's white stripes, emerging as a brand new animal of sleek black.

HELICOPTERS AND DOLLS

Oh! I don't know what triggered it but I suddenly remembered a bit of my dream from last night!

I am in a large field with a group of people. Everything is open, with a line of trees all around us in the distance. The grass is lush and green, and the clear sky is just deepening to night. The first stars are just starting to come out as we all get our bedrolls ready for sleep.

Time blurs and when we wake up now, we are in a huge building where there was only the field before. We make our way into a dining room, capable of holding many more people than our small group. The building is of metal and giant panes of curved glass, so that everywhere we look we can see the outside. There is now a tarmac visible, but beyond that is still the line of trees. I sip at my tea and suddenly hear a deep droning sound. Looking out the other side, I see a large army-style helicopter with at least a dozen men sitting on the struts. It is obvious that they are soldiers and are on training exercises. 

The machine flies overhead and is joined by another on. I watch as heart-stopping exercises are performed by the young men - they jump from one 'copter to another, walk along the outside struts, and other amazing stunts. I feel the fear that is typical of watching a high-wire act - knowing that they know what they're doing, but still fearing for their safety.

Again, there is a blurring of time and space, the structure changes into a wooden lodge. I am with a group of women who are working on rag dolls. This is very serious to them, making sure that the outfits are absolutely correct. There is a feeling that I have gone back in time, into the late 1800's, and this is our employment. 

I measure the length of a calico skirt on a doll before beginning to hem it.