Actually, no I didn't.
I dreamt I went to Melbourne again.
I was visiting a friend who has recently left Sydney to live in our
southern rival.
With me, for some reason, was my Aunt's ex-husband who I haven't seen
in 20 years, my grandmother who doesn't live in Australia and can
barely walk, and a small male child.
Melbourne wasn't Melbourne as you, or anyone, would know it.
It was a futuristic city with fly-overs and flying cars – there were
no characteristic trams, quaint cafés or pretentious twits walking
about.
We went to an art gallery – as I've done with this particular friend
every other time we've been in Melbourne together.
But it wasn't a normal art gallery – it was an out-of-this-world art gallery.
The sort that would be easily digestible by even the type of person
who usually looks at modern art and says "I don't know nothing about
all this so-called fancy art but I knows what I likes when I sees it".
We went to this exhibition which we'd seen advertised as being
"really, really cool". Instead of walking around, we had to get into
these little go-cart things which zoomed down the art gallery
corridors - which were dark.
Dark as in black.
So dark that you couldn't actually see any of the stuff on the walls.
So while we were zooming along on these carts - in the dark - someone
was commentating on the pieces that were presumably hung on the walls.
That we couldn't see, as it was dark.
The commentator had this deep voice. And he had a formidable nose,
sexy eyes and short grey hair – although I have no idea who I know
this since I didn't ever see the speaker – it being dark and all.
Every so often, there was a flash of light and all we could see were
colours all around – like a Jackson Pollack painting – or vomit after
a big night – and then it went dark again and all we could see were
the dancing bits of light you get when someone takes a photo in the
dark using flash and your eyes are going "Shit – that was bright! Ow –
mine eyes!"
And then we reached the end and the cart went outside and tipped over
and we were left sitting on the pavement, blinking in the daylight.
But while I was having this dream, I remember thinking "that is such a
great concept – all art galleries should be like this!"
I think there must've been someone bad in my dinner last night.
Anyone good at interpreting dreams?
5 comments:
Hmm.
A little bit nocturnal indigestions, a little bit Shaun Micallef, and a little bit Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I like!
Great minds think alike - I was imagining Willy Wonka as the curator of the Louvre or something, lol!
I think the darkness with flashes of light to see what's around has to do with your search to understand and adjust to this new phase of life that you are in. I don't think it was a dream that predicts anything bad. It was just your subconscious showing you kind of how it feels as it is analyzing everything.
Sounds like maybe you should have sold those drugs, not ingested them. It's like something going around I guess. I was in my little "tour commentator's" booth, sipping a dry martini and reading the script as the folks went whizzing by and then.......
Mr. Guinness
I was more interested in the "someone bad in my dinner" - hope that was part of your dream too!!! :)
Your dream means you're hurtling past a bleak period in your life, and you look forward to the future. You are clinging to some elements of the past, and interestingly Mr J isn't there. Perhaps the small male child is a memory of him in this future.
You're covering up pent up feelings, and not saying what you really feel.
Erm...or not.
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