Season of the acrobat.
Level of Lucidity: N/A Level of Cohesiveness:
Rating:
Lucid Intent? No
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Daytime and I find myself out in the remote snow covered wooded wilderness of Canada, I find myself at a sprawling railway junction out in the middle of the wilds which is also something of a trading post or logging and loading area.It would seem that all of the Canadian men are preparing themselves for a special kind of seasonal rut a bit like how antlered male animals compete with one another for females, only here the Canadian men compete with one another by trying to see who the greatest tight rope walker is.
I walk down into the shallow valley and meet up with a man who lets me join him whilst he makes his preparations for his tightrope walk. The man who is roughly my age with shoulder length wavy brown hair explains that the secret to a good tight rope walk is all in the rope.
I understand that when each of the men walks the rope they provide and use their own individual length of rope, the rope is prepared meticulously and the man who I’m with lets me in on his own personal secret and explains that it is very important that rope is perfectly straight with absolutely no weaves or twists in it.
So as to ensure the perfect straightness of his rope he takes me indoors into an old cabin where he lays one end of the rope down in a dark cellar and then keeping a straight as a line as possible lays the other end of the rope out in the upper part of the room.
The man checks the rope by eye almost as if sighting a rifle, it’s imperative that there aren’t any kinks or twists in the rope which could store potential energy which could untwist unexpectedly as he makes his acrobatic walk making the rope unstable.
There is an air of excitement and expectation in the air concerning the yearly ritual rope walk the men are going to undertake, there is no antagonism between the men I sense just a healthy and impulsive competitive spirit.
Additional Comments:
Thoughts: Almost certainly another dream about balance and emotions, interesting to note is that the further north the primitive nortiloid creature travelled in Dream 1 the more agitated and frenzied it became, this may tie in with the cold Canadian environment in the above dream I guess. It’s difficult for me to see how such extremes figure into my life though, some words that just spring to mind in an associative sort of way when I think of this drama are primitive, instinctive, impulsive, appetite, fulfilment, controlled, balanced and pacification amongst others which all appear to be recurring themes just recently. Also, I’ve read that the north can sometimes represent reality and indicates that the dreamer is making progress and moving forward in life, I’ve read that similarly the north pole can symbolise completion and an ending to some journey, situation, or relationship it can apparently represent one having successfully completed a transformation although I’m not quite sure how that ties in with my dream, I’ll need to think about it a bit more. Alternatively the south I’ve read can represent life, expectations, questions, love, passion and warmth and even an indictaion that a plan has gone awry. But I think the whole north south thing in the context of my own personal psychological drama is that the south simply represents the genital, passionate and sexual drives and the north the reasoning, logical and rational motives.Dream 1: The nautiloid and the north – I find myself in an upstairs room in something of a marine biology lab that looks a little like my old biology lab at a secondary school, I’m aware that the kind of work carried out here concerns the study of amphibians and strange sea creatures. As I wander about the room I see an old ice-cream tub set down on the floor full of water so I crouch down to take a closer look. I see a pale white baby turtle swimming amongst some strange conical shelled ancient ammonites or nautiloids. I sense that the creatures are hungry so I pick up a tub of powdery fish food flakes and sprinkle them into the ice-cream tub. I perhaps turn for a moment and when I return to look at the water it looks like a thick soup, the food I added seems to have had some kind of reaction with the water making it become viscous, thick and full of bits and chunks. I panic when I see the little creatures literally drowning in the gloopy gruel and quickly transfer the little turtle and smaller conical squidly creatures into another tub of fresh water. In an adjoining room I suddenly hear a little commotion so head off to investigate, I see a stereotypical marine biologist type (very much like Richard Dreyfuss’s Matt Hooper character from the movie ‘Jaws’) cradling an immense ancient Palaeozoic nautiloid, the creature must be about 4 or 5 feet long with the most stunningly beautiful shell which for some reason reminds me of the upturned bejewelled crown of a Mesoamerican king, or a wizards hat with embellishments or even a bishops mitre with ornate encrustations of crystals and gold. The creature also resembles one that I remember seeing in a small children’s book I had as a child about dinosaurs and the fully grown creature also made me think that the little cone shaped molluscs that were swimming with the turtle would eventually grow to be this size and develop into the same sort of creature. The head of the creature is greyish pink and ball like with a very sensitive almost human or elephant like eye, the strange creature has a mouth full of wriggling tentacles. The marine biologist cradles the creature as if it were a baby stroking its tentacled mouth and cleaning in between its catfish like whiskers, in fact the biologist uses something like a scalpel to clean either barnacles from around the strange creature’s mouth or to remove a strange plaque like build up from its beak like tooth. The man’s preening and grooming of the creature seems to be in preparation for something very important which soon becomes apparent. Two ladies in smart suits walk into the room holding clip boards and briefcases apparently these two ladies are top marine biologists higher in rank than the man, their job is to visit people who keep such ancient nautili as pets and to give them a thorough health check. This health check is no ordinary examination though and is more akin to the kind of compulsory examination a car goes through every few years. As I continue to watch one of the ladies carry out her examination whilst the other stands by and watches I suddenly feel very squeamish looking at the writhing tentacles on the creatures head, it shell is stunningly beautiful but its head is very ugly, its owner loves it dearly though and the creature in turn loves him and tickles him and plays with him like a pet. The older more experienced animal inspector notes my revulsion and I ask her if the beast is dangerous at all as I sense that it could be very savage, the lady says “not at all” but adds a cautionary warning “The nautiloid travels to the icy northern waters where its feeding grounds are and the further and closer it gets to the north pole the more ravenous, frenzied and aggressive it becomes”, the lady explains that where we are now in a warmer climate (in what felt like the equator) the creature is as placid and gentle as a baby.
Dream 2: Quarry on the doorstep – Daytime and I find myself outdoors on the driveway of my current home, I witness a huge dumper truck reversing through the gate carrying a couple of tons of soil containing rubble and debris, I call out in a panic to my wife telling here that those people have come back with another delivery of their poor quality soil and are about to dump it in the garden (this harks back to a real life experience where just such a thing happened). My wife doesn’t respond or come out so I just stand there in a state of helplessness as the truck continues to reverse its way onto the property. But suddenly and most unexpectedly the truck begins to sink down through the soft muddy gravel driveway just as if it were some kind of slurry like black quick sand. The large old battered chunky vehicle sinks suddenly and rapidly down through the silty sludge until it has completely disappeared, the only thing giving away its presence is the whirring and labouring sound of the engine as the driver desperately tries to get some traction and drive back out of the quagmire. It’s no good though and I don’t know whether or not to feel happy because now the driver won’t be able to dump his poor soil in the garden because he’s become swallowed up in the driveway or if I should feel bad and guilty because I didn’t help the truck driver from a horrible muddy demise. It’s as if I turn my back for a moment and when I turn around I find a miniature quarry where the driveway used to be, the quarry is frighteningly steep with sheer walls of dark thick black soil which seem to descend off down to a bottomless pit. I see my younger sister sat perilously on the edge of the quarry and I shout at her to come away (at this point something of a nightmare as I have something of a phobia seeing people stood to high places or where there are steep drops). My sister who seems slightly younger and who is possibly naked listens to me and comes away from the edge as I asked her too. Afterwards I decide that my wife and I should have a big clearout of anything which is no longer of any use to us such as old toys (particularly toys), keepsakes, mementos and clutter and throw them all into the quarry and then fill it in for good.
Dream 3: Early morning time and I find myself in the old cramped bedroom I had at my Mum’s house when she first moved there, my wife is laying awake in my old small single bed and I am stood naked just next to her, I feel very sexual and have an erection I make a suggestive move toward my wife but she tells me that it is late and I need to go and prepare some clothes for work. I look down at my watch and see that the time is exactly 8:32 a.m. and that I probably will be late for work if I don’t hurry. Just then I notice that the bedroom blind is fully open and somebody is spying directly on me in my naked and aroused state. I feel frustrated and turn to leave and head over to the wash basket to pick out a shirt to iron for work but as I rummage through my shirts I see that the fabric of the shirt where it meets the collar has frayed and ripped through from sheer excessive wear, it looks like the material has literally worn so thin that it has frayed and torn like tissue paper.
