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Dec. 16th, 2012
Earthquake in Ceiling World - A Dream
Dec. 16th, 2012 07:01 pmThe dream I had this morning took me to a very strange place.
I was living in some city. Houses, buildings, trees, everything normal around me. Suddenly, the ground shook, trembled and parts of it just broke and fell away, and I realised that I was standing, not on the world, but on the suspended ceiling over the world – and the pieces which had fallen away had been just ceiling tiles, leaving the framework behind with jagged bits of broken ceiling tile protruding here and there.
Below me was a whole other world altogether, looking exactly the same as mine, but I somehow knew that the one I was on was some higher level version or reflection of this one.
I was then accosted by R.O., a film producer, dancer and conceptual artist. At first, she invited me to safety in the yard of her home, an offer I accepted since that was one of the few stable spots I could see.
In her garden was a pile of rocks, and an inscription which I read. It stated:-
TODAY – AN ENEMY
TOMORROW – AN ENEMY, BURIED
Later, when I realised that I had to find my way down from ceiling world, R.O. smiled and showed me how, by walking gracefully, barefoot, across a spar of the old framework from which both the ceiling tiles had fallen on either side. Following my footsteps, I made it across – but she disappeared and I never saw her in this dream again.
In the next part of the dream, I found myself still in ceiling world, in a part of the world I had never been to before, which could only have been accessible because I'd followed R.O. across that frame bar.
This part was undamaged by the quake. It looked normal, with a fancy shop selling food and vegetables. Nobody had any idea that this was only a ceiling world. I found myself looking at one little round stand where there were slices of pineapple and chunks of watermelon packaged in little trays, on display on the shelves. I found myself fancying one of them when I discovered that I could teleport; albeit, only to the other side of the shop.
When I did so, a plain-looking middle-aged Irish woman with curly brown hair approached me. She told me that they were ready to take me to the world beneath ceiling world, if I would come with her. I did so, clambering down tiers of precariously piled-up office furniture which looked as if they had been stacked into a form of crude staircase for ceiling world refugees.
Following the woman down, I realised that I was actually going beneath the world further still – from the ceiling directly to its counterpart, a basement world beneath. A dimly-lit world of service corridors and parking spaces for wagons and vans, drab grey dominating over everything.
There was a ramp, and I somehow had an idea – back in the ceiling world, I knew that the ramp up there led to a secret door and a set of steps that could act as a shortcut to where I needed to go. Instead, however, I saw that this ramp ended in a dead end.
Parked next to the ramp in this grim, echoing chamber was a large flatbed lorry carrying a cargo of long, straight industrial pipes. Six of them, stacked neatly. No way out; only back, towards my exasperated Irish guide, and the long walk to the entrance to the middle world along that long, straight, drab, dim corridor.
No shortcuts.
Then I woke up.
I was living in some city. Houses, buildings, trees, everything normal around me. Suddenly, the ground shook, trembled and parts of it just broke and fell away, and I realised that I was standing, not on the world, but on the suspended ceiling over the world – and the pieces which had fallen away had been just ceiling tiles, leaving the framework behind with jagged bits of broken ceiling tile protruding here and there.
Below me was a whole other world altogether, looking exactly the same as mine, but I somehow knew that the one I was on was some higher level version or reflection of this one.
I was then accosted by R.O., a film producer, dancer and conceptual artist. At first, she invited me to safety in the yard of her home, an offer I accepted since that was one of the few stable spots I could see.
In her garden was a pile of rocks, and an inscription which I read. It stated:-
TOMORROW – AN ENEMY, BURIED
Later, when I realised that I had to find my way down from ceiling world, R.O. smiled and showed me how, by walking gracefully, barefoot, across a spar of the old framework from which both the ceiling tiles had fallen on either side. Following my footsteps, I made it across – but she disappeared and I never saw her in this dream again.
In the next part of the dream, I found myself still in ceiling world, in a part of the world I had never been to before, which could only have been accessible because I'd followed R.O. across that frame bar.
This part was undamaged by the quake. It looked normal, with a fancy shop selling food and vegetables. Nobody had any idea that this was only a ceiling world. I found myself looking at one little round stand where there were slices of pineapple and chunks of watermelon packaged in little trays, on display on the shelves. I found myself fancying one of them when I discovered that I could teleport; albeit, only to the other side of the shop.
When I did so, a plain-looking middle-aged Irish woman with curly brown hair approached me. She told me that they were ready to take me to the world beneath ceiling world, if I would come with her. I did so, clambering down tiers of precariously piled-up office furniture which looked as if they had been stacked into a form of crude staircase for ceiling world refugees.
Following the woman down, I realised that I was actually going beneath the world further still – from the ceiling directly to its counterpart, a basement world beneath. A dimly-lit world of service corridors and parking spaces for wagons and vans, drab grey dominating over everything.
There was a ramp, and I somehow had an idea – back in the ceiling world, I knew that the ramp up there led to a secret door and a set of steps that could act as a shortcut to where I needed to go. Instead, however, I saw that this ramp ended in a dead end.
Parked next to the ramp in this grim, echoing chamber was a large flatbed lorry carrying a cargo of long, straight industrial pipes. Six of them, stacked neatly. No way out; only back, towards my exasperated Irish guide, and the long walk to the entrance to the middle world along that long, straight, drab, dim corridor.
No shortcuts.
Then I woke up.
The Other Dream I Had This Morning
Dec. 16th, 2012 09:44 pmI kind of dozed after first waking up from that dream of ceiling world, so I had another dream a bit later. Only a short one, but hilarious.
It featured CSI:NY, the forensics procedural set in New York, and something to do with widower Mac Taylor's past and his late wife Claire, who died on an event in 2001 which all New Yorkers will remember with sadness.
The arrival and rampage of the second Godzilla, the one that survived the end of the 1998 Roland Emmerich movie. The one that hatched out of the sole surviving egg that had not been destroyed when the USAF blew up Madison Square Garden.
I was watching the show, listening to Mac Taylor recount how the creature attacked NY during one lovely sunny Tuesday morning, when the monster rampaged its way through downtown. This one was huge, bigger than the one in the Emmerich movie. Might not even have been the second one; might even have been the first one's mother.
And then, while taking her photos of the thing, out of the blue she was killed by a falling fire truck.
The one thing that amused me was the date of this terrible incident. July 24, 2001.
24/7.
One more thing, by the way. I just checked the date.
July 24, 2001 fell on a Tuesday.
It featured CSI:NY, the forensics procedural set in New York, and something to do with widower Mac Taylor's past and his late wife Claire, who died on an event in 2001 which all New Yorkers will remember with sadness.
The arrival and rampage of the second Godzilla, the one that survived the end of the 1998 Roland Emmerich movie. The one that hatched out of the sole surviving egg that had not been destroyed when the USAF blew up Madison Square Garden.
I was watching the show, listening to Mac Taylor recount how the creature attacked NY during one lovely sunny Tuesday morning, when the monster rampaged its way through downtown. This one was huge, bigger than the one in the Emmerich movie. Might not even have been the second one; might even have been the first one's mother.
And then, while taking her photos of the thing, out of the blue she was killed by a falling fire truck.
The one thing that amused me was the date of this terrible incident. July 24, 2001.
24/7.
One more thing, by the way. I just checked the date.
July 24, 2001 fell on a Tuesday.
