Dreamed 1997/1/7 by Chris Wayan
A cold misty night. I sit in front of my parents' house, on the sidewalk, as if sunbathing. Moonbathing! The moon's turned silver and dim through the mist--I don't think I'll get a moon tan, let alone moonburned.
The front door opens. I thought they were asleep. My father comes out and sits on the front walk. My mother's slower. She's dragging out a leather Moroccan hassock, a round foot-rest. She plunks it in the ivy like a tree stump and sits on it.
I crawl over and somehow attach my feet to the hassock. My body immediately feels light as a ghost and starts swinging slowly around the hassock, as if the ivy's a clock, and I'm its sweeping second hand. As I swing by my mother's feet, she raises her legs so I can sweep beneath...
I say "Don't bother; I'll go right through you when I'm like this, it's only my astral body."
I wake up feeling alarmed. My spirit's orbiting my mom? Uh-oh! Not a good sign... Even if she is no longer getting in the way.
World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: email@example.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites