First, I was on my way somewhere with a just a few other people. It was night. There were those mercury vapor street lights. We were walking down alley ways, behind the kinds of apartments in Santa Monica, California and the Westside of Los Angeles. The apartments themselves are built above the carports. Ironic, since it’s the land of earthquakes. I walked with a couple of other people down these alleys and on sidewalks, and along quiet, deserted even, main streets. We came to a portable building, you know, a trailer. We walked up the ramp like you do and into the portable and back out the other side into a flood light-illuminated playground, where some children were playing and some were working on art projects, just painting and what-not. The kids doing the art projects were just finishing up. Now, I was their teacher.

I don’t remember the kids with me, but I am moving through some suburbs again. Reminds me of the San Gabriel valley. When I was about 6 or so, I made friends with someone who my grandparents contracted to put bars on their house. We rode bikes together, and I stayed at his house one day, and we rode from his house into the hills. There were these fire roads, and I thought it was the coolest thing that we could ride on those roads, and the roads were all ours. Only if there was a fire would the fire department reclaim them, and then, they would be our roads and the fire department’s roads. The ┬ásuburban area of those roads are like the area that I’m traveling through in the dream.

There are spillways, walls, fences – many obstacles to get where we’re going. Nothing too crazy to keep moving, but sometimes we have to go around, sometimes over, sometimes underneath. And it feels like we’re not making any progress. Until, that is, we’re there.

There is a small shack, an out-building of sorts. We go into the small building, where a card table is set up, and two people are sitting there. Reminds me of people collecting money for entrance, except they’re not collecting money. People I know are there, in the back. I haven’t seen these people in years.

Symbols, themes: being reunited with old friends. Teaching the next generation how to live in and under the conditions of life, today.

  • Posted on 18. November 2012
  • Written by admin
  • Categories: Uncategorized
Leave a comment

There are no comments yet.

Leave a Reply