I am in a man's house; he is quite wealthy, an official. A small group of 60s style secret agents - sort of KGB-like, swarm about. The agents warn me about the man, "He's dangerous." I counter, "But he's always been nice to me." They caution, "You've only been to Level I with him, you've no idea what happens at Level II."

While he is an 'important' man he seems a classic narcissist, and perhaps even worse than that. In the dream he is hypnotic, and like a snake, dangerous, and I don't know why I don't heed caution.

The man asks me to go away with him for a night or two. I agree, despite the consternation of the agents. The man doesn't seem to notice the agents, or, if he does, thinks them unimportant.

We, the man and I, are sitting in the back seat of a car, a chauffeur ready to drive us.

An agent in a dark coat appears suddenly at the open car window, and despite the attempts of the other agents to stop him, plunges a hypodermic needle into the man's stomach - only I put my hand in front to protect him and receive the shot instead.

The agents outside the car don't know what has happened. I try to speak. There is some chaos. I can feel the poison overtaking my nervous system. The man barely notices, clearly doesn't care. I can hardly move, and then I go completely blind. In the darkness, I try to whisper that I am dying but my lips no longer move.

You would not call it flying, this movement in my dream, more like gliding.  I hover above the ground and through mere willpower make my way down a hill.  It keeps me safe from a couple of dogs on the footpath who are snapping and snarling at one another.

Before I know it, I am at the bottom of the hill and seated on board a truck like tram that makes its way along Riversdale Road.  I can see ahead towards the tall buildings on the city skyline.  The length of road in front of us has been pulled up and is carved open, piles of dirt and gravel everywhere.

It is for this reason, road works, that we travel in this huge conveyer type truck.  It stops from time to time to collect passengers along the way.  I try to keep a look out for my house but the whole street scape has changed.  Nothing looks familiar.  Most of the buildings are under construction.  I cannot see my neighbours’ houses anywhere, nor mine.

At a point where I imagine my own house must once have been I insist on getting off the truck, insist because the driver has made it clear he only stops to collect passengers.  He does not stop to let us off.

I’m furious and given that the driver will not stop, I jump off.
‘Follow that woman,’ I hear the driver say to his assistant.  ‘And book her.’  I refuse to be intimidated.  I am so desperate to get back home.  I have work to do for which I am already late.

The man hovers behind me but he is timid, like a shy puppy.
‘Mrs Andersen,’ he says.  He does not even know my name.

I shrug him off when the alarm goes off.

In my dream I was in the garden at my old school in Richmond on my knees digging out weeds and re-shaping a flower bed.  The weeds morphed into dirty washing, my own and my family’s.  It had somehow become mixed up with washing from other boarders at my convent school and even with garments from the nuns.

Then I was back at home when I heard a noise which came from the spare room.  I opened the door on a young man whom I recognised as a friend of one of my daughters.  He was naked and using a radial arm saw.  The action of the saw gave off a loud screeching sound and I realised then that the young man used the saw for no other purpose than to attract my attention.  He wanted me to see him naked.

I became terrified at what he might do next.  I fled out through the front door and onto the street.  The young man followed but only as far as the front veranda and then he turned towards the back of the house and himself began to flee.  I now chased after him.

By this time my husband had joined me.
‘Grab him,’ I said.  The young man was now dressed and my husband might well have thought he was just a friend.  Even so he grabbed hold of the young man.  I explained to my husband what had happened and then turned to this young man.
‘I’ll let you go, if you agree to get help.’

My alarm went off and I woke up.

I was in a room, possibly a bedroom, possibly a room like the bedroom in wch I was sleeping while dreaming this, the bedroom wch is also the room where I write & edit movies, where I read & listen to music & watch movies - possibly not.  I was w/ a girl, maybe my current girlfriend in waking life, maybe not.  Maybe we were working on a project together.

I left the room, perhaps I went down steps to another room, a living room.  There was a screen door to a porch to my left.  I saw an ex-girlfriend thru it, "Jake" - someone who I haven't seen in over a decade & who hasn't spoken to me during that time.  I heard a disguised voice calling to me.  I realized that it was hers & I looked at her & now she was wearing a mask to hide that it was her.  I left the room thru the doorway & sd something to her like: "Oh, it's you, long time no see" & then went down the porch steps where an even older male friend that I haven't had much communication w/ for 2 decades asked me if I cd help him w/ something.

I agreed & got into a van w/ him & another guy - maybe thru an open side door.  I asked about what he need help w/.  He showed me a spot in the van wall where water was bubbling out.  I asked him what he was going to do about it.  He told me that we were going to turn the van on its side & he was going to cut a slit in the van wall & repair the pipe (or whatever) that was broken inside.  He got in the driver's seat, wch had 'materialized' next to where the bubbling water was - despite that's apparently being the BACK of the van & started to drive off - w/ the other guy in the front passenger seat & me in the back.

Soon, the ocean was on our right & the other passenger & I mentioned that neither of us ever goes to the ocean even though it's so close.  The road was close to & parallel to the ocean - w/ just a sandy area separating them, an area that cd be used for parking.  The driver jumped out of the car, wch was going slowly, & got onto a bike in front of us - to lead the way to the parking area - leaving the car driverless.  The car had become a convertible w/ no roof & no windshield & the other passenger & I were in the back.  We suddenly realized that the car was driverless & that one of us wd have to get quickly into the driver's seat to take over control or the car wd crash.

The driver's bike in front of us was kicking up a huge sandstorm b/c the road was covered w/ sand.  I got into the driver's seat but it was awkward b/c I'd had to climb into it from behind & cdn't get my legs into the right position.  Further complicating matters was that the sandstorm & the lack of windshield were making it so I cdn't see.  I cd barely make out where the road was & where the entrances to the parking area were that I was trying to get the car to so we cd work on it (even though it was no longer a van &, therefore, no longer had the wall in it that had the problem w/ the water bubbling out).

I dimly saw a 1st entrance but the brakes that I'd felt for w/ my awkwardly placed feet were barely working & the car was now going too fast for me to pull over.  I was desperately trying to avoid going off the road &/or running into other cars &/or pedestrians.  I'd almost slowed down enuf to get into the 2nd, & last, entrance but the car was still moving a bit too fast & I was afraid I'd hit someone or something so I kept going on the road - still w/ extreme sand in my eyes.  I decided I'd slow down more & turn around.

The roads immediately got more complicated.  I may've turned around but then somehow turned the car right across a bridge over a small canal - thereby making it so that I'd have to turn around again to get back over the canal again.  Still barely able to see or control the car I started up a ramp wch led onto a 3 lane highway where all the cars were coming toward me.  I managed to slow down enuf to U-turn again & found myself faced w/ 3 forks in the road.  I tried to go back down the one on the left that I thought I'd just come from when a car started coming up it, as I had done, apparently going the wrong way - as I had.

This forced me to take the middle fork wch led to maybe 2 more choices - everything being under-construction ramps in the air by this point.  I chose the left ramp choice but it wasn't even clear if there was even a complete road there.  There were Jersey walls (or some such) & warning signs &/or caution tapes & the ramp was too curved for me to see if it led to somewhere where I might want to go or if it shot out into 'empty space'.  I might've then seen that it DID lead somewhere safe - but still chaotic.  All this happened in a very quick way - in 'a matter of minutes'. 

Frankie, I had another tornado dream. It's been so long. I was with a large group of people in the ocean. We were swimming out at sea, it seemed. The sky threatened storms. At a distance I watched oblong diamonds, black fleckx, among the darkening grey. The black pieces of sky began to fall from the grey like precious stones tumbling to a lower place on the horizon. Melissa Capozzi and I spotted a tornado forming in another direction. We watched it grow bigger and bigger, until then it began to move toward us. Melissa and I looked at each other. There was no land close enough to reach, so we dove under water and separated to find our own safety. I looked up from several feet below and watched the tornado pass (blissfully), as I held my breath. When I surfaced, Melissa and I said something to each other. Then I swam to some edge, where my dead grandfather, the electrician, treaded water or held on to a side or float. He was part of the group and had gone under too. I looked at his wet face, and he spoke to me. I don't remember what he said.

A dream about a guy I knew in college and never much cared for. He struck me as prudish, aesthetically staid, and prematurely old. When we shared a hotel room in Toronto, his intellectual hubris irritated me. I don’t remember his name, but he was shaped like a Coke bottle, so I’ll call him Mr. Coke.

I was lying on my back on tall columns of jeans and t-shirts against a wall. I could touch the ceiling. Far below, Mr. Coke was pulling out t-shirts—quickly and gingerly, so as not to crumble the columns. He reminded me of someone trying to yank a tablecloth out from under plates and silverware. Nevertheless, every time he pulled out a shirt, the columns wobbled as though about to topple over. It was a long way to the floor, and nothing would have broken my fall.

Mr. Coke chose the same t-shirts I would’ve chosen: ironic or emblazoned with band logos.

On the ceiling the white paint looked like a sheet stretched taut over a dinosaur spine. I grasped the spine with my hands and feet and shinnied across the ceiling to the adjacent wall, where there was a small door like that of a dumbwaiter. Maybe it was an escape route! I opened the door with my foot and found...another wall! There was a phone, too, and below the phone a number written in pencil, almost illegible on the lumpy, whitewashed cement. But even if I’d been able to pick up the phone, the number would have been useless. I knew it was a cruel practical joke.

over the years I've had this recurring dream... the first time that I recorded it it became  section 8 of The City (1974).
recently the "old man" (I am 70) morphs into Stone Girl (she is ... young). Here is that section 8  just as it was originally composed:

8

it is the quietness
within
that makes the move
ment
of animals
going
almost
unnoticed


              .an old man
              was with me

              he came upon
              me
              suddenly

              his voice was
              low
              & rough & in

              his talk
              sd nothing
              important

              as the moon
              came
              animals came

              we slept with
              no fire

              in the morning
              when i awoke
              he had already

              gone

             .i do not know
             his name