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MAELSTROM AND BORE

Dreamed 1985/1/23 by Chris Wayan.

The maelstrom at low tide
Mudly hides my heart:
Shy, eluding
Peekabooing
My friend the Research Bird

Who cranes on rocking logs offshore
And sounds the black-oil water for
That murk-hid core!
Moraylike, that crater
Acoil below this gentle Heron's harbor.

Soon the Maelstrom's ally, Tidal Bore,
Swept me and Crane and Audience all,
Up the riprap wall!
Claw at rocks salt-blind
Near-drowned by brutal spiral

Heart-secretive hoarder.


Dream: a sentient whirlpool in a harbor attacks a marine scientist who's a flamingo.

THE NEXT EVENING

My housemate Jamie watches TV: The Dolphin Touch, on a Western Australian bay where wild dolphins come to be petted. The scene's straight out of my dream--a crowd thigh-deep in the shallow water, the powerful entities in the water... Only my dream turned it dark cold and murky, with hostile not friendly minds in the water. Why?

Jamie changes channels. She stumbles on Saturday Night Fever--a scene where a guy hangs by his hands from a bridge. Just as I clawed and hung on as the tidal bore tried to pull me down!

I think the dream's darkness came from Jamie's confession yesterday--a teacher once came on to her, and when she resisted, he told a counselor she had sociability and attitude problems. His abuse woke old fears in me: that all males are just plain bad, so I must be bad too. After all, I'm attracted to Jamie myself--I want to pet Jamie, not some dolphin. I must be abusive...

Was that what the Malestrom, excuse me Maelstrom, was hiding?

NOTE ADDED 2000

This dream had predictive flashes, but the guilt it raised distracted me from the hints of ESP. If you don't record mundane things (like TV shows you saw), you can miss small psychic hits entirely and be fooled into thinking ESP is either a myth or rare and dramatic--not sailing on the Titanic, avoiding plane crashes. But most of mine have been small like this--and easily eclipsed by strong feelings.

Our night sky's dominated by bright blue-white stars, volatile and explosive--yet the majority of stars are quiet little lamps of gold, orange and red. They live much longer, too--but they're drowned out by those big blue drama queens.

And when a maelstrom of guilt gets going, I'm afraid ESP gets drowned in the murk.



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