00:35 - 23.04.07
night mares
My telephone rang just after 5 in the am this morning. I didn't reach the receiver in time to catch who was calling nor did a number show up on the call display. At this point in time I am still certain that there really was a call, because the light was flashing when I neared the phone, but at the same time no voicemail and no number recorded made me wonder if it wasn't part of the intense dream sequence that had overtaken me. Maybe the mind needed a way to interrupt that particular reverie. I sat on the side of the bed, with the phone in my hand for a long time, wondering what to do. Was someone in distress and wanting to talk. I was tempted to call several of the most likely people who might take the chance of calling me, - "hey, how's it going?" - but the time of day made me hesitate. Just odd.
Saturday had been set aside for cleaning and that I did. It was the first time for probably the past two years where I actually felt as though I missed the company of other humans. As you may have noticed, I have rarely sought out anyone else to hang around with. After what I've seen or experieinced daily in the work place and during election periods I prefer my own company - mine and my sons. At least I feel some sense of safety that way. Don't want to unload my crankiness on friends or family that I might usually spend time with either. Thank goodness you have been there to allow me to vent instead, dear diary. Anyway, the urge to socialize lasted only a very short time. Besides I have felines as friends too - all they want from me is food, water and the occasional cuddle. Lately those cats have been following me everywhere. Maybe making certain none of their treasures got tossed in the cleaning I've been doing. Their greatest prize is an orange toy mouse. Orange is their favorite colour, you see. Ms Snowy has first dibs on that mouse. The past week she has carried it with her while she follows me, depositing it at my feet each time I stop or slow down. I even find it on my pillow when she sees I am about to take a nap. Meanwhile Ms Kitty has been glowing with a deep purple aura as she keeps watch on my activities too. I don't quite know what to make of it.
Any way back to that dream. It came in two sequences - before and after that 5 am phone call. In the first sequence I was walking in a community that was unfamiliar to me. As I progressed, the homes became increasingly large and expensive sitting on huge parcels of land. I seemed to be trying to locate a certain person living there. Someone I had known well for a long time, but whom I had lost touch with for many years. They had invited me by for a reunion of sorts, it seemed. I talked with someone at one home - they were outside tinkering around in their garage so I took the chance to ask them if they knew of the person I sought. They directed me down a cul de sac not far from their home. The layout of that community had been rather amorphous before that conversation. Each time I took a step it seemed as though the landscape changed - sometimes very subtly and then other times as though the whole streetscape shifted. I wondered if I had found Alice's Looking Glass. Hmmm.
After the directions from the one resident, the whole of the streets seemed to take on a more defined and permanent definition. Houses and streets remained in place, regardless of what I did. As the Cheshire Cat said, "What path you take really depends on where you want to go". When Alice responded that she didn't know where it was she wanted to go, that cat said "Well then it doesn't really matter what path you choose, does it?" Yes well. I followed the sidewalk along to the alleyway that divided the cul de sac from the rest of the houses. As I glanced down that path I realized that there was something else very odd about this community. It appeared that all the homes and beautiful lawns were set overtop of a slag heap. Huge mounds of toxic industrial waste lay piled mountain high and became visible when one walked to the brink of the alleyway to peer off into the rest of the landscape. One could see the living, fiery, viscous black plasma that was the waste sliding underneath that community, morphing and transforming to fit the visible landscape that the residents believed was the bedrock of their community. It was quite frightening to see for certain. I decided that I had to go find the source of the pollution that was threatening to engulf that community. It reminded me of the description I had read in "Last Days of Pompeii" by Edward Bulwer-Lytton when I was in Junior High. Were all these people going to be immolated as they tried to go about what had been their daily routines?
I stepped onto what appeared to be a steep rocky mountain path. Short velvety forest green moss and lichen at the verges. Far below I could descry a river valley winding far and away toward the sea. Fading in to the mist, it was. I followed that path out and around a headland, that climbed far above the tiny settlement below. Behind the peak of that mountain was where the source of the defilement of the land existed. It turned out to be the place where all those residents went to work every day. For some reason - maybe the pollutants in the air they breathed at work - those residents didn't seem to make the connection between what they created during their work day and what was slowly invading and destroying their homes. For most they weren't even aware that the danger informaing their lives was about to take over and destroy them. I tried to warn them but that just made them really angry. Some made fun of me, while others tried to attack me or demanded I shut up. When the pressure to stop talking about the monster living under their homes became quite intense is when the phone rang. I wasn't certain I wanted to go back to sleep after the interruption, but the intensity of the dream had left me feeling quite exhausted. I knew I needed to go out to get groceries - our cupboards being really bare except for the cats' necessities - but none of the stores would open for several hours. I didn't want to start any housework either using up the little energy I had left.
The cats seemed undisturbed by the turbulence of my sleeping mind so I went back to sleep, praying for dreams like rain. Cleansing and healing. Not to be. The next sequence found me working in an office that was a strange hybrid of services and functions. There were children present in the workplace, including my youngest grand-daughter. Each worker was assigned both a workstation where they served the public who walked in - like a government office - and a private office that was half workplace and half like a bedroom - personal space for resting and thinking. My grand-daughter stayed there with me and played with the little boys who came to visit on a regular basis. It seemed that the children kept trying to help or warn me about something wrong in the office.
There were three women who were the supervisors of team. They were not nice - not at all. They took it in turns to harass and bully, while one of the three would play "good cop" to the other two "Bad cops", all the while setting up their particular victim for the next assault by the bullies. It was a game the three spent hours planning and executing on the rest of the staff. It obviously gave them great personal pleasure - true evil - enjoying creating the fear and suffering of others. Because there was a particular skill of mine they wanted to exploit they didn't harass me as much, but it seemed as though they were slowly poisoning me - keeping me alive just long enough to get what they wanted. I kept becoming colder and colder as I slipped in and out of consciousness. The children seemed to know that and were trying to stop me from accepting the food the three supervisors fed me. I was so far along in the "illness" that I didn't understand what was happening to me. In the open workstations it was apparent that the three women were stealing something of great value from all of the workers. It appeared they were stealing-to-order, then selling off what they skimmed. That was the purpose of their game of intimidation for each worker, you see. At some point the children finally got through to me as I was passing out in the office. They helped me get to a coffee station where I could drink enough water to wash away the poisons I had been fed. I took a walk through the entire department and was able to see enough with the information the children had given me, so that I could finally realize how my skills were being exploited for their own ends, at my expense and personal risk. I went out into the open working area where the other staff were. I sat at my station with my coat beside me so I could stay warm enough and awake long enough to investigate what they were doing in the public services areas. The other staff were afraid and many fled, while the others kept trying to stop me from looking any further. The three supervisors kept rotating past my workstation more and more frequently through the public area, trying all sorts of diversions to stop and draw me away from where I was working. One brought me tea with more poison added as a last resort.
At that point, three men arrived who were inspectors from some sort of police or intelligence service. They seemed to already know what was going on and who was doing what. The most senior of the three female supervisors disappeared from the building, leaving her cohorts to take the fall for her. I had sipped the tea without thinking and was starting to slip in and out of consciousness again. The three males realized what had been done and slipped an antidote into a glass of water they offered me instead of the tea. It seemed as though they didn't want anyone to realize that they were with law enforcement. They had already learned where the three females had hidden the next parcels of stolen material. Under the desk of the next workstation to me. It looked like several very large bank deposit envelopes - the ones a staff member would drop off at the bank at the end of a work day. One of the men pushed some of the bags out into the open when he thought no one was looking. I appeared to have fainted, but I saw him use his foot to slide them out in the open. After he had made them partly visible he and the other men helped me to my feet and were giving me more of the antidote/water to drink. They placed me in a position where I couldn't help but see those bank bags. I had known they were under the desk before, but hadn't really thought that it was an unusual sight. They had always been there ever since I had started working in that office. I noted they should be moved for the safety of the other staff.
At that point, the detectives made the "discovery" of the stolen goods and I was given the "credit" or "blame", depending on one's point of view, for the break in the case. It seemed that the special skill I had been using and talking about with them during non-work time had been the real break in the case, so they felt the attribution was fit anyway. I was able to describe the leader of the three females to them - about my height, chin to shoulder-length black hair, cut in a bob. Punchinello nose and dark brown eyes. Seemd like there was a wart somewhere too, but I suspect that was just a projection of my thoughts on to that woman. She may have been a politician who had abused her access and authority to impose her accomplices as supervisors in that office and probably many more too. The lines of authority led back into shadowed areas that provoked a lot of fear, even when just dimly seen through the veils of smoke those women had created. As those men were escorting me out of the office, my grand-daughter in my arms and the young children following, was when I woke up. Grocery shopping seemed like a party in comparison. Good night dear diary.
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