11 August, 2005

ollie, the boobie-tree, water from a pipe, a train, wasps, water from a pond

~dream diary~

Turin Brakes are singing. It's kind of live, and kind of on TV at the same time (you know how it is, with dreams). Ollie is cute, and the other one is being wacky. (EDIT: Gale! That's the other one's name, now I remember. Ollie and Gale. Of course. Bless 'em.) Someone is with me, and can't remember which one it is that I think is hot. I tell them "Ollie, of course!" and point him out.

I am driving with Mr Ryan, Ms Snazzles and Ms Lili. Mr Ryan and I are in one car, the gals in another. It is night. We have stopped at that spot just outside of Mansfield where there is a tree with breast-like bumps on the trunk, that someone has spray-painted with a fluoro pink bikini (this boobie-tree, and the graffiti-bikini are real, by the way). We are wandering in the forest just behind that tree, looking for something (I can't remember what now). There is a multi-track railway lane crossing the highway at this point. There is also a huge, rusty water-main pipe which runs through the forest at ground level, and has cracked so that the water spills out and flows around the pipe (neither the railway-line nor the water conduit exist in the real world). The noise of the water running along the rusty metal is loud, clear and beautiful.

The car Ryan and I have been driving is parked over one of the railway tracks. As we clamber back up the hill and get into our cars, a train is coming. But there is no fear. The train clicks onto another track at an interchange just before it reaches us, and speeds past on one of the other tracks, missing our car by mere inches. But we were never in doubt.

I am in my family house. patermunkey isn't here, but Ms Cait is around somewhere. There are four European wasps buzzing menacingly in the family room. I have flyspray. It's difficult to spray them, as they are flying around quite erratically, but eventually I manage to get them all. As they begin to slow and die, I realise there are another four wasps in the front room. I attack them with the fly-spray as well - again, it isn't easy to get a clear shot at them. By the time I've sprayed them all, the room stinks of fly-spray.

The four in the family room have fallen to the ground now, but are still squirming. I know you shouldn't let dead wasps lie around inside, because they exude a pheremone which calls the rest of the nest to their whereabouts. So I carefully pick up the dying insects in a thick piece of paper-towel, and take them to the toilet, where I flush them away.

There, in the bathroom, Ms Cait (or, rather, it is either a much older version of Cait, or a cross between her and Snazzles) is standing in the bath. On the vanity bench at one end of the bath, she is examining a large sample of green pond-water under an ingenius microscope set-up of her own design. This Cait/Snazzles young woman (who quite possibly contains elements of matermunkey as well) is telling me about all the natural wonders to be found in the microscopic, underwater world.




Post a Comment

<< Home