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Apr. 6th, 2009 | 12:10 am
music: seven- Fever Ray

2/4
With Jennifer, who is under my care. Train- massive, steel. Sunlight filters through the windows so beautifully. I wrap an arm around her casually and we sleep an easy sleep under the daylight. We awake in a taxi-driver's cab, unsure as to what is happening. Outside, a street in the heartlands with soaring bridges, and white concrete flats littering the landscape. 
We swerve into a neighbourhood that looks like the sea has overtaken it. White, decaying HDB apartments are encrusted with shells, crustaceans: fragments of the sea. Alleys swarm with homeless men, aside rubbish dumps and other detritus. Everything is decorated like a decrepit, forsaken South-East Asian Atlantis. The characteristics of the heartlands run rampant among the seaweed mildew- its sweaty labourers, the rickshaws... Occasionally, there is a brightly coloured building in pastel shades of rainbow...
Buildings had a peculiar beauty. I remember wishing I had brought my camera. Instead, I recorded names.
Back home (in my old house), I quarrel with the taxi driver, meet laoshi, among other things...

5/4
School. A subversion of space. Reds and wood. Spiral staircases that leap up and out.
tilted boards- you slip down the floor and out the classroom. Tables placed like  pieces on a tilted chessboard. The chance of falling is perpetual. The ceilings follow a kind of strange logic- they aren't there, but they are in certain areas. All is a bit like a surrealist painting, but with a rather modish style...  
Gradually, as I change, the landscape melts into my old school. The inversion becomes of time- William is there, acting as a kind of older guardian.

Recently, old dreams have been resurfacing. Here is one:

?
A swimmning pool that is the sea. Within it, whales and dolphins swim among fishes. It seems a travesty to contain such huge creatures in such a small space.
The swimming pool is on the deck of my uncle's yacht. The interior of the yacht is deep mahogany, with vaulted ceilings and sweeping wooden spiral staircases. Red turkish carpets cover the floor. This massive interior is contained inside the yacht in a strange inversion of space...

root | whisper, wind {2} |

...

Feb. 17th, 2009 | 07:59 pm

16/2
a very tall landscape. a black lake sweeps below where bird?masked strangers row canoes. above, masks and mirrors dangle down, suspended by strings. I am not supposed to look at the masks- which are more kabuki than venetian- directly more than once- they have some kind of enchantment. I memorise the landscape before 'sailing' forth eyes closed. I move by manipulating the air around me.
a 2nd rectangular room, with no floors. the walls sweep high, white, and are adorned on all sides by huge portraits. at the end, there is a portrait of a girl wearing red shoes. I open the secret hatch by the picture and enter. A riddle- how do you fill a basket with holes full of water? I solve it by putting wet shirts inside (the landscape molds itself to fit my needs), and escape to a more industrial, Victorian reality.
A sea portion- I don't really remember what happened...

(the 2 segments are actually the final two segments. The whole dream was a beautiful, intricate puzzle of which I had to solve...)

~
18/2
by night, swimming in a shallow dark pool under moonlight outside my old house. The water only reaches my shoulders. Daylight arrives quickly without a sunrise, and I see a flock of beautiful birds fly over- birds of paradise flying with their crowns in full glory next to dark, sweeping swallows (my Chinese name means "swallow"). I point them out to my older brother. Upon entering my house, I find the grounds are full of orange turkey heads.
Looking for the body of Ida? in a dark swamp. Finally uncovering the bones and fighting with the skeleton...

root | whisper, wind {5} |

7?/2

Feb. 9th, 2009 | 03:22 pm

a harbour by the sea, its piers lit by a faint glow of a dying sun. all is in shades of gold, orange and faded blue. a flock of birds, white doves highlighted with/licked by a white glow, like an oil painting. they emanate auras of rainbows.
(Death Sandman short story? do they foreshadow death?)
all around, everything is bathed in the gold of sunsets. I ask people if they see the rainbows- they can't.
Kittens, and a few cats. They can talk. A baby kitten asks me for its mummy. Its aura, too, is a rainbow glow.  It has a pursed mouth like a bottle.it rolls on its belly. there is something very beautiful about its little haloed body on the sunset-painted pavement. I take out my camera and photograph it.

The glow dims gradually as the shadows pass (into a night?).

root | whisper, wind {3} |

3/2

Feb. 3rd, 2009 | 12:04 pm

a dragon haunts my school/house. a massive chinese dragon that curls its body around the many stories of white,
decrepit flats (again, rounded into a circle and closed in upon itself). it has huge, glaring jade-eyes and a mouth that leers into a twisted grin.
its iridescent colours of red, blue and green make a bold contrast against the pale concrete.
My grandma prays to god, and it disappears to her. it is still there, though. I have to get rid of it. It's a parasite in my world.

A second monster- traveling in a blue car to a second house. this one is frustrating, and may not look human. Can't remember its
name. I'm also supposed to destroy it. (I am some queer kind of exorcist?)

on the way to the third house: riding a motorcycle through damp fields with worn-out fences and washed out skies. some boys are playing football. I ride my machine recklessly, nearly knocking into a couple. 
my destination is a castle-like house overgrown with ivy. a third monster lives there.
I knock on the door, and an old lady with black, curly hair greets me. I remember being very much relieved she is- to all appearances, anyway- human. she ushers me into rooms that are painted an odd white. from the door, a path of wet puddles mark the floor to the bed, where a toy baby cries out its frustration in its crib. it's made of silicone, but nonetheless has all the attributes of a real baby. the strange alien lady sings "oh, lovely, don't cry, little baby" (or something along those lines) to soothe the baby.

I wake up out of the sheer weirdness of it all.

~
Funnily, all the imagery in this specific dream was derived from some point in real life :D. I find it amusing how dreams come up with such queer permutations of reality, making even the mundane exquisitely queer...

root | whisper, wind {5} |

30/1

Jan. 30th, 2009 | 01:15 am

Last night, I ran among Shetland ponies with cake-coloured fur in backyard fields. One of them feinted death, a foal. It soon came to life, and played next to a severed head carried around by wagon arms (there is a story here of which I have forgotten). I ran around, laughing, with this strange cast of characters, before returning to the house, where secret communions, watermelons and other things greeted me.

Many other things happened in between in which I no longer remember.
They were interesting, though.
 

root | whisper, wind {3} |

waking dreams...

Jan. 26th, 2009 | 11:34 pm

26/1

a heart that is a magnet. derelict hotel bathroom, with rosy tones. a mirror. I can see my bruised blue-rose veins peering through my skin, the flesh pale, taut. my arteries stretch across my ribcage. There is a magnet- it clings unto my chest like a curse.
I wonder what has been the cause of this- the answer is one I must desperately seek.
~...Collapse )

~
I kept slipping out of my dream into 'parallel' dreams in this one. It happened more than twice. By the end of the dream, I wasn't even myself anymore... Does that happen to any of you?

root | whisper, wind {1} |

...

Jan. 8th, 2009 | 01:47 am

Something older...

1/11
Film-like: twisted oak in a classroom. The classroom is old, the desks are in neat rows, the air humid with the grating choir of wooden floorboards. Ivy creeps unrurily all about the floor. Emptied of the laughter of children, the classroom contains a sacred, still kind of silence. The silence of the woods. The oak is beautiful, so beautiful and so old. His arms pierce the rooftops, and below, the rotting wooden floorboards. The tree is in agony, I can feel it. I am doing a documentary about this. The oak's tragedy of getting trapped in a confined space- the whole internal monologue.
-

Strange fact: a few weeks after this dream, I found this. Peculiar?
Tags: ,

root | whisper, wind {1} |

...

Jan. 6th, 2009 | 10:00 pm

6/1/09

An assassin dream. Through airports unseen, a chase. I am running away from a country. Someone tells me he/she knows a secret passageway for us to flee. it is behind a stairwell, I run and and run and run. at the end of the staircase, a betrayal. the explanation flashes through my eyes. it hurts in a way I can't understand.

An old bus rattling through humid, rainy landscapes. It is going to my old estate, but steers and passes into an area grey with mildew and damp fields. Somewhere, there is a stable. A dirty animal farm with owls peaking out of barn windows, and huge ugly boars with strange markings. An animal farm like a deep sore; an infection on the hillside...
Steffie, an old old friend. She shows me the deep, long scars on her legs. We talk of things I can't remember.

Under a stand near one of these fields, I can smell the rain. The air is cool on my skin. Everything is real real real. There is a dog beside me. A seeing eye dog. I think I am supposed to be blind, but I can see.

A chase, again. This time I can feel the presence of my pursuers, but I do not remember their faces. I run through moist grass laden with the occasional huge, encompassing tree. They circle around me, and I decide to let my dog go. I fly up the trees. Somehow, the knowledge of flying is something innate. It seems natural, like swimming. You push the air up around you and fly. It's so simple.

Another pursuit. This time I can see them, and the tables have turned- I will trap them myself. 3 cops/criminals. Men. I lure them by their greed with promises to an old house filled with many, many rooms. It smells of old wood and tea bags. One of the rooms is just filled with shelves and shelves of rotting books. I push the books down, and ask them to do so, too. "You try. On the other side is Grandmother's house," I tell them. Everything smells of must and mildew. The comforting sting of old, moist walls...
A room with a slopping roof full of beams the colour of deep wood. I cup the face of one, smiling a cat's grin...
I really wanted to remember the rest of it, because I myself was quite curious as to how I would trap them XD. But some annoying person woke me up...

root | whisper, wind {4} |

flying on wind-waves in sand dune-stricken citadels with balloons at hand

Dec. 24th, 2008 | 12:20 pm

24/12:

My old school. Walking down old pathways that tell me they are my school (even though there is no resemblence).
I reach the chapel, which has turned into a sandy citadel. The seats are brown, and molded from the ground. Winds blow.
We carry red balloons. They are dusty from the sand. Riding the winds, we fly up and down...

And then, someone woke me up -_-.

(disappears to continue dream)
 

root | whisper, wind {2} |

...

Dec. 19th, 2008 | 12:30 am

A gaping borderland, someone tells me. Its voice lingers in the air, as an expectation.
My old, old school. Primary school. The backyards of the classrooms, where there is only grass and crumbling white walls framed by windows. Somehow, things possess a kind of strange lucidity... There is an air of weirdness.
Someone tells me to look for something odd, out of place. That is the key to the faerie world, it says.
A rose-like desert flower grows out of the concrete next to a pillar. I touch it. Invisible hands grab me, demon-like. I see a world gaping, barely... The air ripples and dissolves into the tangible body of some strange entity.

(those old dreams I used to have in my old house after my demon left for good in which I would meet, in-between, with many entities of all sorts...)

an interlude


root | whisper, wind {1} |