Chat
09-28-2015, 08:38 PM
28 Sept 2015
No intention set
In this dream, I was both the observer and a peripheral participant.
A woman, someone I didn't know in the dream nor do I know in real life, is brutally assaulted by several men outside a shop of some sort. It's dark, all I see is what looks like the back door of a shop and brick walls. The woman checks out, that is her brain seems to turn off during the assault, and the scene jumps to her waking up to discover that she's on a raft floating in the middle of an ocean. No signs of land in any direction. The raft is made of 4 metal barrels used as floats topped with wooden pallets for the base and a sheet of plywood as the surface. She looks around without getting up and sees only water. She realizes that she's been dumped out here to die either of exposure or drowning. She lies there. A feel of time passing, not sure how much but it's at least one day. Her raft bumps against something. She lifts her head and sees a small boat, also adrift. She can't believe what she sees. Reaches out and touches the hull of the boat with her fingertips as if to feel if the boat is really there or not. It is. She carefully rolls over and crawls onto the boat. There's no one aboard yet it's intact. No leaks, no holes, also no motor or sail. It has a small cabin that will provide some shade. She crawls into the cabin and discovers it's fully stocked with water, food, and other supplies. She finds a length of rope that she uses to lash her raft to the stern of the boat. She's still adrift but now she has shelter and supplies.
Jump to a rocky beach on a small island somewhere. I'm standing there, waiting. I hear an engine rumbling across the water. A boat approaches, low to the water and fast, like a speed boat. It roars up towards the beach. Engine cuts out and the boat glides up onto the beach. The boat looks like a Corvette convertible. The woman is behind the wheel-yes, it had a wheel, just like a car. She hops out of the 'Vette boat and greets me. I comment that I didn't know Chevy made Corvette boats. She replies that neither did she. I ask how she's doing. She tells me it was tough for a while but now she's okay. I ask if she's ever going to settle on land again. She shakes her head and tells me no, she's adapted to the water and likes it there. I tell her that doesn't surprise me, that a lot of people are leaving the land and going to the water, that they feel the water is safer as people are being crowded on smaller areas of land. She says she's seeing more people on the water these days, that groups of people are tying their crafts together and creating little villages. She tells me that's not for her, that she prefers sailing by herself. Don't blame you, I tell her. She tells me she needs to get going, that she stopped by to let me know what's going on and-she grins at me-to ask if I'm ready to leave the dead land behind yet. I laugh and tell her no. The water is a nice place to visit but I don't have any desire to live there. Besides, I add, you know I have work to do on the land still. She gets serious. Says that's another reason she couldn't come back to the land. She couldn't do what I'm doing, that life is easier on the water. Then she says she has to leave. Hops back into the 'Vette boat. Cranks up the motor. I help push the boat back into the water. She revs the engine, waves at me, and off she goes.
Jump to her approaching a small floating group of vessels which are lashed together. She pulls up to the small boat from before. Ties up the 'Vette boat and hoops to the small boat. She crosses to another boat via a plank attached to both boats. This boat has a larger cabin, like a small house. A couple cats trot up to her. They meow and twine around her legs. She bends down and pets them. She glances around at her floating home. It may not be much but it's home and she's happy, even if she is alone.
Emotion: None, really.
I was a witness of what happened to the woman and her transition, with information couched in metaphor. I saw no need to go into detail about the assault. "Brutal" seemed enough description.
I would have chalked this up to an ordinary weird dream if it hadn't been my part in it. That felt like a reality. Like something that happened, even though I've never met this woman.
No intention set
In this dream, I was both the observer and a peripheral participant.
A woman, someone I didn't know in the dream nor do I know in real life, is brutally assaulted by several men outside a shop of some sort. It's dark, all I see is what looks like the back door of a shop and brick walls. The woman checks out, that is her brain seems to turn off during the assault, and the scene jumps to her waking up to discover that she's on a raft floating in the middle of an ocean. No signs of land in any direction. The raft is made of 4 metal barrels used as floats topped with wooden pallets for the base and a sheet of plywood as the surface. She looks around without getting up and sees only water. She realizes that she's been dumped out here to die either of exposure or drowning. She lies there. A feel of time passing, not sure how much but it's at least one day. Her raft bumps against something. She lifts her head and sees a small boat, also adrift. She can't believe what she sees. Reaches out and touches the hull of the boat with her fingertips as if to feel if the boat is really there or not. It is. She carefully rolls over and crawls onto the boat. There's no one aboard yet it's intact. No leaks, no holes, also no motor or sail. It has a small cabin that will provide some shade. She crawls into the cabin and discovers it's fully stocked with water, food, and other supplies. She finds a length of rope that she uses to lash her raft to the stern of the boat. She's still adrift but now she has shelter and supplies.
Jump to a rocky beach on a small island somewhere. I'm standing there, waiting. I hear an engine rumbling across the water. A boat approaches, low to the water and fast, like a speed boat. It roars up towards the beach. Engine cuts out and the boat glides up onto the beach. The boat looks like a Corvette convertible. The woman is behind the wheel-yes, it had a wheel, just like a car. She hops out of the 'Vette boat and greets me. I comment that I didn't know Chevy made Corvette boats. She replies that neither did she. I ask how she's doing. She tells me it was tough for a while but now she's okay. I ask if she's ever going to settle on land again. She shakes her head and tells me no, she's adapted to the water and likes it there. I tell her that doesn't surprise me, that a lot of people are leaving the land and going to the water, that they feel the water is safer as people are being crowded on smaller areas of land. She says she's seeing more people on the water these days, that groups of people are tying their crafts together and creating little villages. She tells me that's not for her, that she prefers sailing by herself. Don't blame you, I tell her. She tells me she needs to get going, that she stopped by to let me know what's going on and-she grins at me-to ask if I'm ready to leave the dead land behind yet. I laugh and tell her no. The water is a nice place to visit but I don't have any desire to live there. Besides, I add, you know I have work to do on the land still. She gets serious. Says that's another reason she couldn't come back to the land. She couldn't do what I'm doing, that life is easier on the water. Then she says she has to leave. Hops back into the 'Vette boat. Cranks up the motor. I help push the boat back into the water. She revs the engine, waves at me, and off she goes.
Jump to her approaching a small floating group of vessels which are lashed together. She pulls up to the small boat from before. Ties up the 'Vette boat and hoops to the small boat. She crosses to another boat via a plank attached to both boats. This boat has a larger cabin, like a small house. A couple cats trot up to her. They meow and twine around her legs. She bends down and pets them. She glances around at her floating home. It may not be much but it's home and she's happy, even if she is alone.
Emotion: None, really.
I was a witness of what happened to the woman and her transition, with information couched in metaphor. I saw no need to go into detail about the assault. "Brutal" seemed enough description.
I would have chalked this up to an ordinary weird dream if it hadn't been my part in it. That felt like a reality. Like something that happened, even though I've never met this woman.
