Sometimes dreams are very literal in their mystical interpretations of my inner struggles and worries.
Last night, asleep, I was getting ready to go on a splendid vacation with some dear friends. We were going to take a boat to get there-I think it was on an island. I realized that I had no shoes-they’d somehow vanished right off my feet. So, I was looking amongst all the cast off shoes at the ferry dock. For some unknown but perfectly dream-acceptable reason, there were rows and rows of people’s shoes and boots against the wall.
A friend, who seemed to be a combination of my childhood hero/nemesis Martha and my dear friends Cody and Sharon all rolled up in one glorious, formidable package, told me I could use her boots. We hauled one out of the pile-it was a gorgeous, shit-kickin’ black leather number with lots of zips and laces. We managed, with much effort, to get it strapped onto my foot and then.. couldn’t find the other one-then we did find it, but it was red. And when I pulled another black one out of the jumble, the one I had on turned out to be dark blue.
Sigh.
Whateveh, it was time to go, so off we went, though I suddenly noticed that I was also only wearing a bathrobe. Doh! But no matter, one of the girls was in lingerie, so I figured my ridiculously unmatched and scanty attire wouldn’t be a terrible fauz pas.
We all trouped out onto the path that wound up by the side of the building, very close, in fact, so close it was part of the building and led us up to the roof. Up near the tippy top, we had to push through brambles, on the edge of the roof(a scenario my mind plucked from Magnusson beach, where Sam and I clambered over slippery asphalt chunks on the bramble-defended shoreline). The boots came in handy here, though my hands got a bit scratched up.
Apparently there was a kinky party going on up here-our scantily clad friend decided to investigate, but soon returned disappointed, because it was ‘dead in there’.
Double sigh.
Oh well, we started to scramble down again… By the time I made it back to the shore, my friends were gone and I could see the boats loading. Panic time! The only way to get there was jumping from raft to raft. The ‘rafts’ being thin, floppy bamboo mats floating on the water.
Grack!
As I wriggled from one dubious flotation device to the next, it sank beneath my weight and I floundered about in the water, desperate because I could see the boat leaving in the distance.
Waaah! Dream over.
Guess Cody’s new movement class the night before really stirred me up. I’m so glad she’s started up again. Her workshops have an ingenious, unique(sometimes serious, often silly, always genuine) way of popping you past your ideals and ideas-out of your head self and into your body self.
My body, currently, is pretty winter stiff, grouchy and tied up in knots(I was pretty shocked how rigid I was!) by my brain’s woes-mainly financial, at the moment.
We ended the dance with a series of small performances of our experience and mine really took me right into contact with my fears, my feeling of endlessly stopping up ceaselessly erupting leakholes.
Plop, into my subconscious, mix in a little Fiona Apple-Sam and I were singing some songs at bedtime and one of them was Extraordinary Machine:
‘I certainly haven’t been shopping for any new shoes….’
And voila! I missed the boat.
Hmm… Perhaps I need to go buy myself some shiny new asskickers?
