I am younger, living at home, and trying to get ready for class at the University. I can’t find my schedule. I am also arguing with my Mom because she is trying to set up some kind of meeting with a journalist, and wants to know when will be a good time, because the Journalist needs to be in the house alone. I am arguing that it’s an invasion of privacy. Finally I find my schedule and realize I just have time to make my first class.
On my way to class (walking) I realize that this is the second week of classes. This is an art class, and I remember attending it last week, but as I look at the rest of the schedule, I realize many of the classes were missed last week. I tell myself I don’t want to do that again, and hope all will be well this time.
In class, the teacher is telling us to grab our projects from a big table. I remember last week was clay sculpturing. As others are picking their items, I look, but can’t find mine. In fact, I’m not really clear what I did, I just know I will recognize it when I see it. I see some sculptures of chairs and sofas that seem familiar, but they’re not quite right. I give up, and find a place near another student at a sculpting table.
The teacher notices me and asks about my project, then tells me to continue looking, around the room on shelves and in the back room, maybe it got misplaced. So I look around, again, seeing familiar shapes, but not my work.
In the back room, the teacher joins me and asks if he can help. He then starts talking to me as if we are more familiar with each other. He’s young and good looking and I can feel a certain attraction to him, but it seems odd, it’s almost as if he expects me to know him better.
He starts to take my hand and I pull away, and he looks at me blankly, surprised. “You don’t remember” he says. “Remember what?”
“Come with me, trust me, I’ll show you.” He pulls on my hand and I follow. He takes me further back away from the class, and stops at a doorway. He opens it, and there is light coming in, diffuse and strong, but not blinding, more ambient than anything, but beautiful.
He puts his arms around me and whispers “hold on” into my ear and the next thing I know we are through the doorway and falling. Free falling, but without fear. It’s not sudden or frighteningly fast, it’s more of an easy fall at a comfortable pace. His arms are around me and I feel safe. I laugh at the sensation of freedom and exhilaration, and I ask him “how far, when do we land?”
As soon as the question is posed, I find myself standing with him in the middle of a city. We are on a sidewalk, and people are walking by, city sounds and movement everywhere. Yet it seems different somehow, not like any city I know. Everything is just slightly off. It is both modern, and yet has the feel of the 50’s, and people are dressed in all eras of fashion.
He grabs my hand and takes me through the crowds, sight-seeing. I realize I’ve been here before, and with him. I am beginning to remember feelings I have for him, and they feel so familiar, so right. We pass a newsstand and I see a newspaper, and read the date on it. What jumps out at me is the year – 1085.
I look at him, puzzled. How can this be? This isn’t what things were like in the year 1085. I wonder if this is some future, maybe a new calendar system. He tells me not to worry, or try to figure it out; it just is what it is.
We stop at an outdoor café and he orders coffee for us. We are standing at a waist high round white table, meant for standing, people on the go, apparently. This is one thing I notice about this place – a rather busy pace, vibrant energy, but very little that is quiet.
Suddenly the scene changes and we are being chased, and he grabs me, we run off. I don’t know who is chasing us or why, and he is just laughing and saying it’s part of the fun.
The point of view changes and I am now watching what is happening as if it is a movie. The young woman/me and the man are running around. At one point they get separated, and my viewpoint follows the man who is now searching for her/me. He manages to get back to the outdoor café, and he sees a note, it is from her/me, saying she’s returning back to the class.
Now I am back in the class, seeing from my point of view. I am in the back room, still searching for the art project. I remember now what I had made – three round tables. The teacher enters the room, rushes toward me, relieved to see me, and tries to take me into his arms, but the memory of the other place is already fading from my mind, and I pull away, confused. He sees my memory is fading and holds on to my hand just a moment longer and then releases me.
I tell him I now remember my art project, and that I had asked it to be set aside for the kiln, so maybe it was in a different project area. He nods at me, and I wonder why he seems so sad as he helps me hunt for my work.
Wow, I don’t know what to say. It has been a long time since I’ve had a dream I remember and this one was so vivid. Strong in feelings. I have been watching a tv show where art is a big element, so that may be where the art class setting came from. And the teacher looked kind of like one of the teachers in the show.
And of course, the whole theme of the university classes, and missing some classes, and figuring out the schedule is a recurring on in my dreams. Very familiar.
The journalist and the invasion of privacy issue is new, but I think that may relate to the fact that we’ve been showing the house for sale, and each visit is a kind of invasion of privacy that is necessary.
Setting: Art class, University, home, a city from elsewhere
People: me-younger, generic art students, Art teacher
Props: clay sculptures, art tables, shelves filled with sculptures, newsstand, newspaper, coffee place, table, note
Actions: searching for schedule, searching for art project, arguing with mom, walking to class, falling, exploring a city, running, back to searching
Feelings: angst about invasion of privacy, concern about missing classes, confusion about not finding the art project, familiarity with the teacher, growing fondness and feelings for the teacher, the wonder and exhilaration of free fall
Snippets of thought: falling, falling in love; searching for something as always; creativity, I miss that part of me, can’t seem to find it these days.