Archive for May, 2007

Shinto Shrine

May 29, 2007

There is a very long, very round tunnel, just tall enough to stand in. There are no lights, but this is not a problem. It is a test. Will he go in. At the end is a bright light. I can see it is a shrine. It is clearly something to do with Japan. Out of curiosity, I go in. I travel down the tunnel in no time and with no difficulty. They are disappointed. I am not one of them. The shrine is one to a Japanese samurai. I do not know who. There is a very expensive, brilliantly crafted and lit sword on a stand in front of a suit of black shiny armor laid out on a table. It is clearly very important. The table is about the same hight as you would expect for a Japanese table where you sit on the floor. Unexpectedly there is a way out the back of the shrine. I go though it. But that is a story for another time.

catching a tram

May 22, 2007

I am in a house in a street near where I live. But I now live in this house. The people in the house are people who I have never known. The house is a two story terrace house in the inner northern suburbs of Melbourne. I try to talk to the people. This does not work. I leave the house, walk south one block, and then east one block. I catch a tram into town (going to work in Collins Street).

green and cream

May 18, 2007

this is a very old one, from the 1980’s:

I am walking down a street. I walk through unnoticed. I always arrive through a side street onto the main thorougfare. On this thoroughfare are many buildings of a victorian england style of architecture. Big arched windows with small pannels of glass, every building has windows only, no walls. Though some windows form doors. Sometimes there are hoardes of people in the restaurants eating sumptuous food, on the streets are endless horses and carriages. Everything is green and cream. The buildings and the coaches. Though the horses are expected, they do not seem to form part of the image. The people have undescribed clothes. Sometimes the places are deserted and no one is around, the streets are empty.