dreamstate writing 26 Apr 2018

The following are particulars from this morning’s dream.

I and another were in the crystal clear, aquamarine ocean trying to figure out where waves might be breaking that we could surf on later, but the current near the beach was very strong and the rocks that formed part of the ocean floor there were sharp and jagged. A traditional Indonesian outrigger boat arrived, whereupon I am my companion left the sea.

Then, I was sheltering from the noon sun in a partial clearing under palm trees and other tropical vegetation, near the ocean, sitting on a wooden park-bench with at least one other entity, who was dark blue in color and sat behind me and to the right. Seeing movement to my left, I looked over to find an orange-skinned local woman turning a suckling pig on a spit over a fire. When I greeted her in her tongue I heard a voice say Selemat Pagi, which means Good Morning, to which I responded with Selemat Soreh, which means Good Afternoon. The voice near the woman echoed my response. Without ceasing in her task of spinning the small roasting pig and with unseeing eyes staring right at me, she opened her mouth, out of which white fluid flowed unabated to splatter on the white-gold sands below. I turned away from her to make a comment about what time of day it was to the blue-skinned fellow behind me and to my right, at which point we were approached by an entity resembling an old friend of mine from Bali who has long dreadlocks. The newcomer tried to drum up enthusiasm for a surf trip on his friend’s boat to the reef, where the waves were breaking.

From right to left across the clearing walked a very pregnant woman with dark hair and light skin wearing a light blue and white floral dress whose hands were covered in a dusting of a white substance and whose forearms bulged with thick muscles. The blue-skinned entity told me that the forearms are controlled by the front edges of the ribs, which in the physics of the dreamworld made sense to me.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

in Kuta Lombok

I went to town to look around and took in many things: I saw one cow – don't ask me how – and one bird with brown wings. It sang a song both loud and strong to flee its cage it sought, wreathed in a cloud of burning trash – sad things mankind has wrought. The ride this morn was swift and fleet we slept perhaps three winks, in captain's berth we sampled mirth, the ferry did not sink. Now through this cabin we explored while sleep into our brain-pans bored, we looked in cubby; cranny; nook; as wave and sea the vessel shook. There was the book by Chairman Mao – his lesson, guide, and rule – three fancy shirts, a dead cockroach, some bits of foam, a toilet brush, the AC vented cool. Then through the hills and sopping fields our caravan did wander, in search of places rich in surf from here to there and yonder. We quarter in a spartan room, the basics they are present, my company is quick to laugh – indeed she is quite pleasant. The waters glint with plastic junk, so much it can't be counted; now off to rest, to try this bed, with consciousness dismounted.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥