Sundeelia – A Whale of a Tale: Adventures in Dreamland, 01.12.2018
Last night I had two long colorful dreams. In the first one, I was at a large building, which appeared to be a college or museum. I was outside walking, clutching a worn black journal in my hands. I had been summoned for questioning. At least that’s what I thought was going on. As I walked alongside the building, I followed a trail. Finally, I reached a set of stairs and started up. I came to an open breezeway area where my father was standing, waiting for me. Although my Earth father had died nearly two decades ago, this man stood tall, with short dark hair and dark eyes. He appeared to be in his early forties and was tall and fit, although not thin. He looked at me and smiled, sensing that I was a little confused and nervous.
His deep voice soothed my nerves, “Good, you’re here!” He looked into my eyes and began to explain, “Now, you have two choices. Either I can question you like myself or act like an investigator.” He paused a moment, searching my face and then continued, “What would you like me to do?”
I didn’t hesitate, blurting out, “Act like you!”
A large smile greeted my decision as my father patted me on the shoulder, “Good! We’ll proceed in that manner.”
I showed him the journal where I had written my daily activities and illustrated some of them with sketches. It was clear that I wasn’t present during the time when the crime was committed from the evidence that I presented in my childish way. My father smiled and patted me on the shoulder, once again. He shook his head, “We know you’re not guilty. We just wanted to know whether or not you had seen anything.”
I shook my head indicating “no” in response.
“Okay,” Father replied. Let’s go to the gallery and see how the investigation is proceeding.” He signed for me to follow him through an open door into a long gallery. I had to skip along to keep up with my father’s long strides. He was a very tall man in my young eyes.
The sunlit room was long, with large windows on one side so the natural light came in. The inside wall was hung with paintings and odd sculptures that stuck out from the wall surface. My father sent me a telepathic explanation: the sculptures were called “reliefs” although some were rather like gargoyles in my young opinion. A smile crossed my father’s lightly tanned skin at my impertinence but he didn’t correct me. Then, looking beyond me, he greeted two men who were studying one of the relief sculptures that appeared to have been damaged.
“Hi! What did you find there, Joe… Jim?” Those were not the men’s names, but I can’t remember them.
Joe and Jim appeared to intently study a set of holes in one sculpture when my father noticed yet another one on a straight path from the first which pierced another sculpture. He sighed, “It looks like someone fired a bullet through these pieces!”
He paused, looking around the long room, which extended about fifty feet. He turned to the two tall men, who were roughly but warmly dressed in woolen clothing, “Have you found any other damage here?”
Jim indicated some debris scattered on the floor below the two sculptures and one dusty footprint, where someone had carelessly stepped on the powdered plaster. Father nodded in satisfaction while pointing to the footprint, “Good! That will give us some more evidence from which to work!”
Father stepped back from the damaged pieces, “Let’s look elsewhere to see what can be found.”
The three men walked along the gallery as I followed behind them, forgotten for the moment in the excitement of the chase.
The dream ended.
The second dream: I was again in a large building, which appeared to be a church. There was a high arched ceiling overhead, large clerestory windows and what seemed to be an abandoned altar at the head of the large room. A group of women was working at the altar platform, gathering up faded bunches of flowers that were standing here and there, in glass vases. One woman approached me with one of the vases, pulling the flowers out of it, she handed them to me, “Could you take these out, dear, and put them in the garbage?”
I took the flowers but didn’t understand why she didn’t wait for her fellows to give me the rest before I was sent on my little errand. Still, I obeyed the woman, who looked at me with sad eyes and then turned away as if preoccupied with her own thoughts. I shrugged and looked for a door to the outside. I found one towards the back of the room and opening the door, walked through. I emerged into an equally tired-looking garden. There was no garbage bin in sight, so I followed another path alongside the wall until I came to the end of the building. It was a bit of a surprise.
The building had changed shape in my dream, becoming more like the back of a store, with a loading dock. There was a huge pile of brown boxes all heaped up on the pavement waiting to be moved inside. I ignored the boxes and kept looking for a garbage bin. I finally found what appeared to be a burn bin at the edge of the drive. I put my limp burden into the bin and returned the way I had come. Now that I had found the bin, I could perhaps help the ladies with the rest of the flowers they had been gathering. Again, I wondered why the woman had only given me a few of the spent flowers. I shook my head, shrugging. It didn’t really matter. Sometimes adults just acted strangely.
When I returned to the “church”, it had undergone another transformation, this time appearing to be a kind of cottage. There, a little friend greeted me warmly and invited me into another room which appeared to be a bedroom. There were two beds there, one on each wall. My friend’s father was standing to one side as we entered the room and flung ourselves on my little friend’s bed. As I began to draw and paint on the coverlet, my friend’s father smiled and thanked me for making his day happy. He was a slightly built man with silvery hair and appeared old enough to be my friend’s grandfather. I smiled in return and then turned to look out the windows that had just appeared.
I could see that the “cottage” was sitting on the shoreline. There was a beach to the north of the cottage where I stood staring out at the shining sea beyond. I was looking behind the piling of the dock that loomed above the cottage (weird, but it was a dream). I saw an odd dark shape move in the water beyond the beach and gasped as I recognized the huge wide-open mouth of a gigantic whale that was scooping up its meal in the shallow waters of the beach and alongside the very cottage where I stood. For a moment I thought the whale would hit the cottage, but it safely passed by just outside the window and disappeared.
Then, outside, I saw a group of three boys with a large terrier-type dog playing in the surf. I wanted to warn them about the whale, but my little friend came up and hushed me, saying, “Those boys aren’t nice.”
I looked again, the boys did appear to be somewhat rough while playing, but they were also very young. They were tall so perhaps intimidated my little friend, who was still rather small and delicate in appearance.
“They live in that small cottage,” sniffed my friend. I looked where my friend was pointing. At first, I thought it was actually a very large cottage, appearing to have two stories, but then I noticed the building behind it was two-storied and my eyes had played me a trick.
I looked back at my friend, a young blonde girl, and said, “Their cottage is small, but doesn’t look too bad.” I wasn’t pleased with my friend’s attitude, but I was a guest. Still, I thought the boy’s cottage was actually cute, made of dark stone, with crisp contrasting white trim and shutters around the windows. There was also a white door, although it appeared to be somewhat worn from much usage. The garden in front of the cottage was rather plain, too, only grass and a few poorly trimmed bushes to one side. Still, in my childish eyes, it was somewhat appealing in detail.
As I was writing these dreams out, I found myself filling in detail that is perhaps not exactly what was in the dream but appeared to fit the situation. It is interesting how everything in a dream can change in a moment, from the setting and events to the people there with us. Dreams are much more fluid than everyday life and can be filled with meaning. I do know that I was happy to see my father young and happy once again. He passed away nearly two decades ago after suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. He was actually carried off by pneumonia after falling into a deep coma. It was good to see him young and relaxed, with a slight twinkle in his dark eyes.
I was also delighted to see the whale and dog in my dream although I didn’t interact with them, only observed their actions. I often have animals appear in dreams, although this was a first to have both a whale and a dog, one a sea-going animal and one a common pet. I do not currently have any pets of my own but consider myself more of a cat person.
Anyway, those were two dreams that I remembered, at least in part. I do not remember many of my dreams but felt it important to write these two down as there were so many interesting details in them.
“Sunny” VaCoupe (aka Eliza Ayres)
© All Rights Reserved, Elizabeth Ayres Escher, www.bluedragonjournal.com