Sunday, January 31, 2010

I worked with someone called Michael, who traveled in disguise for much of the time. He was a superman type who righted wrongs. There was also a female character in my dream who was evil. She morphed into different disguises to fool me and others into thinking we were safe. Then she assumed her original shape. She could create multiple characters at once.

I had been out to dinner with a daughter/sister who sat with her new extended family. She fed her baby from a bottle. I was intrigued to watch a bottle fed baby. The idea that you could actually see the milk disappearing, you could see the milk go into the baby reassured his mother I imagined unlike my experience when you could only trust that the breast fed baby was getting enough to drink simply by the amount of sucking she did and by the feel of your breasts between feeds, before and after.

I held the baby for a while and for some reason took him with me back to my room in a nearby castle. I had the baby wrapped loosely in it blanket and I worried that he would not feel safe with me once he recognised his mother was not there.

Michael my superman colleague arrived and told me that he was worried we were in danger. We would need to travel above the local area and look into the backs of other houses and castles to see what was going on.

‘I have to take the baby home first,’ I said.

‘Leave him here,’ Michael said, but no, I insisted, I must return him to his mother I could not leave him alone.

‘Wait for me, Michael,’ I said. ‘Wait for me.’

I worried Michael would not wait. I raced back to the family gathering and handed the baby back to his mother. She seemed disgruntled, not so much because I had taken her baby for a walk but because somehow earlier I had led her to believe that her extended family were not all they were cracked up to.

One member of her family was Malcolm Frazer, ex prime minister of Australia. At one stage he announced to the table that he was getting old. He spelt out his age – seventy-three years. In the dream he seemed much older than that.

I went back to Michael who was sorting out a car in which to make our trip. I needed to collect a final something from my room. On the way downstairs I recognised a woman on the stairs ahead of me as one of the evil woman’s stooges. I would not be fooled. I grabbed hold of her before she had a chance to attack me and squeezed her so tight her disguise fell away. I threw her onto the floor. Several other stooges appeared, all dressed as respectable staff or guests of the castle in which I was staying. I could not battle them all. I fled back to the car park to escape with Michael. The evil woman was in hot pursuit.

‘Michael,’ I called, ‘Michael.’ But when I looked to where his car – an old VW – had been, it was not there. No sign of Michael either and I knew then he had assumed a disguise. He could have been in any one of the cars that now occupied the car park. There were cars in all shapes and sizes rather like my grandson’s matchbox collection, sporty races, ambulance cars and caravans. There were conventional cars and old-fashioned re-furbished types.

Where was he? I knew – I hoped – he would rescue me. Somehow the evil woman also knew that Michael was somewhere in the car park. She did not lunge for me, therefore, perhaps hoping he would materialize. I woke up.

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