Dream sequence #1

I woke up at 5:02 this morning, smiling and relaxed, from a pleasant dream. Waking this early was my own fault, I had read last night in Csikszentmihalyi (correctly typed from memory, ha!) a quote from a manager: "I'm an early morning guy. I get up at 5 always, out of the shower by 5:30 ..." and had had a pang of envy thinking "I should do that." Pah.

In my dream I was watching a travelogue-type report on television: a sinkhole in a country road had swallowed up a vehicle and the driver was trying to clamber out of the hole, or was in the hole to see how to extricate his vehicle. Whatever. A tracked vehicle came up, driven by an idiot, and narrowly missed running over the half-buried car; it ground to a halt, then spun on its tracks nearly crushing the man in the hole who had to climb out and run. By this point, I was no longer watching TV but standing there in the road, Princess - who appeared standing beside me but in the logic of the dream had always been there - said "what a fool, let's drive on," so we got into her car and drove on. (Even in my dreams, I'm a non-driver; Princess drove hunched over the wheel as she does.)

The scenery was a mix of tourist images of Australia and roads I know from northern Saskatchewan. We drove past a military airfield hidden behind eucalyptus trees, as a very strangely designed transport plane lumbered into the sky. After driving through near-desert (red earth) we arrived at sundown at a small town by a riverbank, lots of grass and bushes and tall trees.

We entered her parents' house, a typical 1960's North American bungalow, and after a bit of chat with them in the kitchen went to sleep on a pull-out sofabed. In the morning (sunlight through venetian blinds, birdsong, the smell of pancakes), she went to the shower and came back dressed, sat down beside me (still in bed) and held out her foot for a massage. I pulled her toes and rubbed the sole and eventually worked my way up to her back. As in life, she had a stiff neck and shoulder from sitting hunched up while driving, so I worked on them for a while. She sighed and rolled over, we were both naked in a relaxed, Adam-and-Eve-before-the-serpent way. I started the massage again at her mouth, fingertips and toes (yes I did have five hands, what's your point?) and worked towards the centre, and woke with a smile as I got to her heart.

I seldom dream about sex, but often about intimacy, about comfort and trust and acceptance and belonging, and the warmth of a shared bed. Call it "wish fulfilment."

I've just remembered something. This scene of the strangely-designed airplane(s) lumbering about in the sky above the city/small town/house where I am, recurs frequently in my dreams, and I have always assumed that it was invention or borrowed from the sci-fi TV shows of my childhood. Wrong! It's reality of a sort, a memory of an airshow one summer at the Ex in the early Sixties. We didn't go, I assume that we didn't know that there would be an airshow - but we would not have gone in any case because our family knew that the Ex was Babylon, meretricious entertainment for dullards. Anyway. The planes flew slow loops above our neighbourhood while waiting their turn at the flypast, so I watched them from the driveway.

In NaBloPoMo news there is now a handy, easy-to-use randomizer which takes you at the click of a button to a randomly-selected participating blog. Neat, simple, effective; I shudder to think how Microsoft would have implemented this.

Three down, twenty-seven to go.