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I meet up with Prudence.
She tells me that my hair looks good like this.
We’re standing on a bridge-like structure with staircases leading downward.
Her boyfriend arrives.
We’re at the place that she is residing, standing in the kitchen, talking, when he comes through, tip-toeing past. He and I have never had a good rapport. He goes away and comes back through in swimmers, opens the sliding door, goes out and jumps into the pool. Other people go out for a swim too but I am too self-conscious about my body so I leave instead.
I’m running home on a huge toll road. It’s almost like flying but my feet keep in contact with the ground. As I approach the toll gates there is a multitude of people running with me.
I go out to a run-down cabin with two old mates. Blubber Boy strips down to Speedos, much to our laughter – Emu and I in boardies – then bomb-dives huge into the water. I consider free-balling but don’t.
Lots of people are there with water-motorbikes. I cane around on my broken half-boogie board, powered by my mind alone. Sometimes I fly up out of the crowded water and ride around in the sky. I can see other people’s amazement. This goes on for a long time.
One guy jumps over a log on his motor-powered water-bike. I follow, attempting to fly my half-board out of the water and fly over the log but I fly into it, then laugh at myself, splashing and tumbling over the nippy water. The rider comes and offers me advice about pre-jumping.
Later I’m on the other side of the lake. I pull my ride from my pocket and jump on, tweaking it with my fingers to get it going, but it splutters and dribbles slowly along so I don’t go out far into the now seedy water but pull up on the shore, resolving to walk back around. I realise that what I thought was my broken half-boogie board is now a small toad and throw it away in disgust.
When I get back to the other side a motocrosser from my distant past talks to me about flying. He says that he can do it too but has learned that it is for genuine-need occasions only.
I tell him that I feel blessed to be able to use it recreationally.
Redhead Rob who Dad once suspected of breaking into our house passes by the front garden with the rest of his family, including a foxy younger sister, along with her boyfriend and a much younger sister. As they pass by, looking eager to set eyes on their old house, Rob says, “Hi Nick,” to which I reply, “Hey Rob. Hey…”
His youngest sister is approaching my house now but I can’t remember her name.
The older foxy sister helps me out, “Jacqueline.”
“Hey Jacqueline.”
“Hey Nick.”
Later, Dad changes his tune about Rob, asserting his decency and calling him handsome. I wouldn’t have gone that far.
Now I’m getting out of the old poo-green Daihatsu Charade in a KFC car park. I leave it momentarily, when some dude gets in and begins to drive it off, towing a jet ski that I don’t recognise as mine, although it looks exactly like one I use to own. It is the car alone that I’m fighting for.
So I chase the car on foot for a bit, through the car park. I take a shortcut, end up in front of them, then they come whizzing past me and I only have time to attack the passenger. I grab him and reef him out of the car as the driver races off. I grab hold of a little brown dreadlock on top of his head and fly above him, demanding that he take me to the car.
On Mains Road he starts fighting it pretty hard and I lose my grip on the dread. He falls to the ground and scrambles to grab some live electric cables with which to ward me off. Annie Mae is with me now and she becomes involved. He is holding her like a hostage, cables poised to electrocute her, but she overcomes him and he accidentally electrocutes himself, writhing on the ground, screaming, pleading for us to detach the cable from his face. I hold Annie Mae back, knowing the dangers of live electricity.
We watch him roll around and writhe some, then walk back to my parents’ place, resolving to call the police and explain everything. I remember flying, however, and decide that it must only be a dream.
I’m at some kind of a party with all sorts of weird people dressed in ghoulish and nightmarish costumes, some with masks, lots of torn and shredded t-shirts, smoking all sorts of weird shit. Maybe Hada is there. We circulate tents for a while and it is all kind of novel until Clementine gets mixed up with a group. I’m afraid that she is getting won over by some demonic dude. I go to their space on the first floor of a little cubby house kind of thing. Clementine and the dude are just lying around, looking innocent enough on first appearances, but I know that to get to where they are I have to fall asleep and leave my body.
When I get there I see that the dude is dragging her into his world, not entirely against her will. He is made of solid, pointy stone. I try to punch him in the midsection then wake up (in the dream) to see if my hand is hurt. It is not, so I go back and start smashing away at his body, secure in the knowledge that it is not damaging my fist, even though it may feel like it is
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I go to some kind of church function with my parents. We’re standing by the end edge of some stadium seating. I feel I’m not needed there and that they lured me under false pretences. I make a bit of a scene, objecting and swearing loudly. Dad admits that maybe they hadn’t needed me.
I’m wandering around in a building when Mum finds me and asks me to go and get two whipple-ball bats from the mailbox-like enclosure in the front door. They are for some kids
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From the moment I enter this world I am fortified against the elements of nature with blankets and walls and clothes. The anorak keeps me warm while the loafers stop the ground from hurting my feet. I grow up with plastic and concrete and bitumen, prefabricated timber and ceramic tiles and glass windows covered with steel bars.
Is not my behaviour reactionary to natural forces
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I’m with Ol’ Mate Al.
I buy an old piece of war memorabilia from a crusty old street vendor, though the vendor is insignificant – I only assume he was old and crusty. The first piece is some kind of cardboard-kind-of-plaster plaque or wall mount kind of thing. I remember thinking Granda will appreciate it. As soon as I pay for it the thing breaks across the middle – a horizontal fracture. I end up buying so many guns and old grenades and stuff that I have a real dilemma carrying and carting it all. Al isn’t particularly helpful. There are roads around me, cars circling. Maybe my enemies are in them, hence an uncomfortable vibe
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I’m with Ol’ Mate Al.
I buy an old piece of war memorabilia from a crusty old street vendor, though the vendor is insignificant – I only assume he was old and crusty. The first piece is some kind of cardboard-kind-of-plaster plaque or wall mount kind of thing. I remember thinking Granda will appreciate it. As soon as I pay for it the thing breaks across the middle – a horizontal fracture. I end up buying so many guns and old grenades and stuff that I have a real dilemma carrying and carting it all. Al isn’t particularly helpful. There are roads around me, cars circling. Maybe my enemies are in them, hence an uncomfortable vibe
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I sleep in my car, testing it out for comfort.
Dad is fixing some kind of a boiler into the front of my car, right by my feet, where the peddles should be. It is somehow suppose to fix my current car problems. Now he’s using a belt sander to expand the hole he cut to fit it in. I think that maybe I should/ could/ would do it. Afterward, there is a huge vertical control panel or display board instead of or above the windscreen
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