Levitate Me!

Why is the idea of nightly levitation so strange to so many readers of this blog?
Is it the idea that one might truly fly in spirit or the idea that one could be deluded into believing such? All I know is that more than a few people wondered about it. The truth of it is really rather dull and not even remotely dangerous.

Each and every night, a dreamscape arises in which I suddenly decide to move quickly and as I take longer and longer strides, a levitation happens until it is all levitation and no striding. Frequently in these dreams, there is someone who comments about my showing off and more frequently I am.

Unlike my teens and twenties, when flying and levitation dreams scared me so much I would awaken bolt upright with heart palpitations, this is a fun thing and a joy. I am a free agent in the universe. If only I could discipline myself to do things "that matter" in this hours, the world might be a better place.

The dreamscape that I do not care to go to is the crystal city. This silent world is one that I have visited since my earliest days. It is both strange and familiar, and utterly bereft of habitation. There are shades in this place but they are unable or unwilling to interact with me. I still believe this is a city of the dead.

Another strange and eerie world is the one out in the stars, where my communications are with beings if infinite light. When that dream is upon me, time distorts dreadfully. The vastness of the nothingness is a weary solitude and the beings are curious but sad. There have been nights that felt like centuries spent in that empty landscape. Many times I wonder if I could fully remember the entirety of the dreaming, would things be as I remember them to be or is it my rational mind striving to make sense of what is completely alien and unknowable as a human being?

As I get older, my ponderings are vapid and my musings slight. Whatever it is that prods me out of myself, it is a benign force. When I am aware of my self in the night, it is as a being of great force and size, unhampered by malevolant spirits who seek to fool me. As a younger person, I was terrified by them, and experienced years of flight and fear. My noturnal ventures started long before my brain injury and any head trauma, or I might blame things on some miswiring. As a 4 year old, my flying was between the trolley wires in front of our home where the No. 14 Arbutus glided past.

The joys of those flights was mitigated by the terrors of being persued other nights until the time came that instead of running/flying away, I stopped in my voyage and looked back at what was chasing me. I looked at what was and laughed out loud. My wise dream self, like Glenda the Witch of the North, banished the evil with a wave of the wand. "Begone! You have no power here!"
I never looked back.

All in all, a little levitation is fine.


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Give me help
Give me help
You can... levitate me

Then take off them rings
Off them hose
Levitate me

Higher place
Levitate me

Elevator lady elevator lady elevator lady elevator lady
Lady levitate me
If all in all is true If all in all is true If all in all is true
If all is true
Won't you please fawn over me ----- the Pixies

Dreamscape of Gaiman.

For as long as I can remember, I have occupied my nights in a world more real to me than this one. I am a dreamer of the highest magnitude. As I age, my control over my dreams is getting better. I now fly weekly at least, and enjoy levitating nightly. It is fun.

The two things that I wished to dream about are conversations that I would like to have. Conversation #1 would be with Nick Drake. This assumes he would talk at all.
Conversation #2 would be with Neil Gaiman. One of these dreams came true on Friday night. Be still my heart.

Even in my wildest dreams, I am capable of sabotaging myself. The dream was as follows:

I am entering a very long hotel lobby when the man in front of me turns slightly. I realize that it is Neil Gaiman and my peppery heart goes pitter-pat. As I examine him in a pretend offhand fashion, I see that he has blonde highlights in his hair and is wearing a tan overcoat. A trench coat in fact. I narrow my eyes thinking this must be an imposter as there is no black teeshirt and no black jacket. Neil turns as we approach an elevator together and I see somthing in his hand that could ONLY belong to the real Gaiman. We begin to converse.

I look at him and with great conviction say: "Thank you for writing ____ insert Neverwas book title here ___ "
"My very great pleasure" says Neil.
And in a tizzy of fandom I flutter away tongue-tied.


Wouldn't you think such as me could do better than that? It was MY dream after all.
Bah.

I hope I fare better with Nick Drake.

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I don't think this type of fandom quotes passes our "notability" criteria. --Aphaia 20:08, 19 Jun 2005 (UTC)

Paging Dr. Freud - !

Once again, I am in Vancouver and it is early morning just before sunrise. It is home I am headed for, garbed in an odd fur robe that does not cover my nakedness properly. Observing this, I try to get off the main road; possibly Oak and 14th or so but there is an obstacle. There is always an obstacle.

Impeding my path is a huge hedge that bars my way to the sidestreets. I cannot go through it as it is thick and girded with wire. Since I cannot jump it nor stumble through it I try to minimise myself under a shrub as a dark man with a possibly Jamaican accent walks his small white dog. Looking at my incredibly stupid fashion choice, I muse on the arts gala I have walked out on. Why did I walk out?

As always in such scenarios, no wisdom is gained from reflection. It makes no sense and is unlikely to morph into sensibleness through dissection. I got miffed and refused to compromise and naturally, had to leave. Since I did not have a car, I must walk home. And where is home? Why 49th and cambie of course. Therefor this must be the 80s. Since it is the 80s I must be loaded. If not why walk?

The sound assaulting my ears is "Fur Elise." I lurch up and vanish into the mists and back to my bed. Buggery dreams. If change is indicated, a variation of this dream occurs. Always I am lost or looking for home. Always my car, bus, train breaks down or I am walking hesitantly. Always I am thwarted in my journey.

--------- *

Now I am up and out the door and putting on medical stockings for those who cannot do it themselves. A few medications here, a catheter or two there and I am at the home of a very ill client where another worker awaits me. We are mystified as to how this person stays alive in a state where 99.9999% of others would be long and truly gone. A triumph of will I suppose. Soon I hope this will fades as the road from here on in is a black road. There will be no more comfort and there are no pleasant attractions. Bone on bone cracks as we position the client in the lift and transfer to the wheelchair. We do everything for this client but breathe. And it is not nearly enough.

Now I am out to the farthest arm of our area to a person in the endstages of cancer. There is no hospital bed, no transfer devices, no wheelchair but there are plenty of meds and an oxygen line that can circle the home 5 times. Another dominant spirit is residing in this client who is living every second until it is not possible. I hear that last night a tasty Galliano was enjoyed with the night dose of morphine. They look at me for a reaction.

Why the hell not? That's what I think. The worst thing that can possibly happen is that the client keels over from a drug interaction. Not a bad end considering what is the reality of their medical situation.

And so- home again ,home again where my doggie greets me royally. We walk up the hydro line and enjoy the crispness of the december day. A snack and a nap before another brief walk and I am off to the other job. It is a good life.

Purge by Shopping

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I went shopping to the BIG CITY after work.
Naturally I forgot what I came for the moment I arrived so I went to the best place I could think of: The Book Store. After all, there are after Christmas specials to be had.

Being a dreamer of epic proportions, I was drawn to a dream manual. I bought it and another dream dictionary. Perhaps I can remember to jot key things down in those moments I am lucid in the nighttime.

Hopefully they will make more sense than the last time I had a truly inspirational dream and awoke with the feeling I had received a personal revelation that required documenting. I wrote about it and went back to sleep.

In the morning I anxiously grabbed for my journal to read my divine message.
I had written in clear round letters:
"very IMPORTANT dream. Must remember."

See how smart the sleep me is?
jeez louise


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