During one of this morning’s dreams, I and a handful of other entities were on our way to the airport to board a flight. On the way, we stopped to go hiking on a path that ran alongside a tall, vaguely circular, wooded mountain that looked strongly familiar. In order to reach the lot where we’d parked our car, we had to pass through a long tunnel, which featured a roofed bulletin board from which paper messages and bags that people had forgotten were hanging.
Recognizing a white canvas bag as one my father used to own, I lifted it off of the wooden peg from which it had hung and opened it up, rifling through the contents. Out came reams of loose papers as well as a few old-fashioned photographs. The latter I kept turning over in my hands until I could see the images they bore, mostly poor-quality pictures of my siblings and me in our youth sitting amongst our parents in darkened rooms.
Suddenly, I became aware of a large and threatening shadow-shape lurking under the steel walkway that lead through the tunnel. My initial attempts to flee were thwarted by my companions, who soothed my fears. Then, during the same or a subsequent dream, I heard with my waking ears someone that sounded just like my deceased mother say my first and middle names, to which I responded, aloud, with, “Hi, mom.”
[After this dream, I meditated for about fifteen minutes then did my travel yoga session. Huzzah!]
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Recognizing a white canvas bag as one my father used to own, I lifted it off of the wooden peg from which it had hung and opened it up, rifling through the contents. Out came reams of loose papers as well as a few old-fashioned photographs. The latter I kept turning over in my hands until I could see the images they bore, mostly poor-quality pictures of my siblings and me in our youth sitting amongst our parents in darkened rooms.
Suddenly, I became aware of a large and threatening shadow-shape lurking under the steel walkway that lead through the tunnel. My initial attempts to flee were thwarted by my companions, who soothed my fears. Then, during the same or a subsequent dream, I heard with my waking ears someone that sounded just like my deceased mother say my first and middle names, to which I responded, aloud, with, “Hi, mom.”
[After this dream, I meditated for about fifteen minutes then did my travel yoga session. Huzzah!]
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
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