Dream May 20, 2009 Wednesday

Dream May 20, Wednesday, 2009



At a harbour. To the left is a harbour wall, shore and then it turns right. The harbour wall jutted out like a square; Straight line, and then a 90 degree angle and then a right turn.






I was in a small white longtail boat, like the Chao Phraya riverboat in Bangkok. I turned right at the harbour. The harbour was to the left. Boats moored, like in a harbour marina was to the right, now.








At one point, the boat I was in flooded with water, at the front left side. The boat listed to the front and it also listed to the right. The boat spun around and around in circles, violently. But it soon righted itself and floated perfectly. I anticipated this, I stood up in the boat and outstretched my arms perfectly. Me, a creature of existence achieving balance.


The boat headed to the marina with a lot of other white yachts.






I was released onto a small floating raft with wooden slats spaced slightly apart so you could see the water beneath but it still floated. There were crude wooded railings on three sides of this small raft. I was thinking, I had my things, how am I going to connect with my personal artifacts again, and I am assuming I am in Vancouver again now, and at some point soon, I will be in Dawson Creek again.


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A dream I had of my friend Cate. I see her in a room in a half hallway. A door is to the right.







She is in there. She is a large lady. She is with three young college girls. I want to be with her but she tells me that it is better that I leave. So I left and went and sat just outside the hallway, on a carpet.


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May 3 2009

May 3, 2009


At a bookstore, Northwest corner of Cambie and Hastings, I walk up the stairs to a set of double doors. A hallway stairway. I turn around and say out loud to the people shopping down there. "I am in Vancouver now, but I am going back to Dawson Creek tonight on the plane. I am always saying that in my dreams! Windows opening to a view of Hastings Street at Cambie. Cenotaph corner. In the main floor of the bookstore, empty except for few boxes on the floor. Support pillars. At the back of the store, an old man bookstore owner sitting behind a large desk. I walk to him and tell him that I am indeed going back to Dawson Creek tonight.


I walk down the street, Prior Street in Vancouver, going West.Light, magic hour, around 9 pm in the summer, dusk.
North side of the street. Four blocks before Gore and Prior, I am walking. I hear a voice yell "Dean!" I look around. A male Chinese voice. I look again and I see a former high school student leaning out of a window. I say hi back to that person.


Walk down the street more. A couple of guys walk onto the street to say hello. Gays. One guy is white, brown hair, blue jacket. Stepping out onto the street, was the other guy, if you could call it that. A transvestite. Chinese, with a thin silver necklace with three or four silver rods hanging from it, each rod spaced a couple of inches apart on the necklace, and a gold brocade dress. Little gold squares altogether forming a dress.
I say hello to be friendly, but I walk on, shuddering, thinking, visiting Vancouver, the astral version of Vancouver or otherwise, you would run into people like that.

Across the street, the South side of the street, I see a bunch of Chinese girls from high school. They appear to be older than high school, early twenties. One guy is amongst them. I see them and they see me but I thought while in the dreamworld, pretty much what I think in the waking world is that knowing those people again would be a regression. They sense my hesitation of them and hate me for it. Then I reach Gore street, as the street arcs North.










At one point in the dream I remember walking down a mud path, like a construction worker's path, orange things in the road, my thoughts, "I wish I had a couple of thousand dollars so then I could go to Thailand again. Bangkok knows how to protect Chinese people from the Chinese tongs."



Note: In the dreamworld you can run into all kinds of weird characters. You must be fearless to describe them.