We All Live In A Sinking Submarine


It’s not a reoccurring  dream, but it’s one that sticks in my head especially now that I’ve been ambushed and the rug pulled out from under me…

I’m sitting in the window of my apartment on the 33rd floor. The world is flooded and the water has been rising slowly for several years. I can see that the water is up to the 24th floor. I think to myself that I only have a few years left before I will drown like everyone else below me. I am safe for the moment, warm, and dry. I’m so exhausted though. I just barely made it out of a sinking submarine. Myself and several others went below to find a way to stop the flood. But our route took us too close to a building and it tore open the sub. I managed to maneuver it to the roof top of another building where everyone was able to swim to safety.

Now I sit on the window exhausted looking out on the water that is ever rising. I get a phone call on an old land line phone. “We need you to go down again. You’re the only one who can pilot the ship.” I am safe, warm and dry and I want to say no. They tell me that they’re sending school children down. I am safe, warm and dry and now I can’t say no. I’m the only one who can pilot the ship and they’re sending children down. I have to go. I have to.

I’m on the submarine and the children are playing. I’m taking them down so that we can find a way to stop the flood. They call down and say that I have to take the same rout as before. “It’s too dangerous! There’s a safer way!” I beg them. But they don’t hear me. They tell me that I have to take that rout or they will launch a missile and blow up the ship. I tell myself that I can do this, I’ve done the rout and know the dangers. I steer the ship. They launch they’re missile anyway. I maneuver the ship and just miss the missile. The blast of the missile hitting the building near us throws us into another building. We’re stuck. Water starts draining into the cabin and the children are huddled together scared and looking to me to say what to do next. I close my eyes and think that I could have been safe, warm and dry …



I’ve been hagridden. With the same one. Well I say the same in that it falls along the same lines. There are no monsters, killings, tortours, rape, ghost or demons. And yes, yes, I’m talking about about nightmares. This re-occuring nightmare is simply me walking though a door, or waking up, or looking away… I’ve had it since I was a teen, long before Star Trek, Next Generation’s; “Inner Light”… It’s a nightmare that wakes me gasping and bewildered, begging to fall fast asleep again in hopes to regain all that I lost. I spend the next several days weary of every doorway, cautious when I turn my head, fearful to sleep at night for what I may wake up too…

The heaviness, the weight, the desperation that constricts my breath, my every thought eventually fades.  Then a few months will pass and in my sleep I dream of a life that is full of joy & happiness, full of love and contentment, full of mystery and adventure. Always, there’s that one person, some times male, some times female, that I share it all with. I don’t remember much, a large cable spool table that we used for the kitchen table, milk crates with homemade pillows on them. A mattress that laid on a throw rug with a handmade quilt in the corner of a studio apartment. We were poor. Dirt poor! We didn’t care… I was always in school working on one degree or another, they were always working some blue collar job. We scrimped, scrapped & saved, we took great joy in the simplest things and more often than not we preferred them over the decadence of what’s normally recommended… We loved each other, …*sigh*… oh, did we love each other… They would call to me from the hallway to help them bring in the groceries, or a noise, a sound would catch my attention and I look away. I can see them in the hallway and I walk through the door … I glance away …

…There I stand in a posh new condo with all new shinny appliances, and furniture. An unattentive partner hunched in front of a 72” screen, and the keys of a brand new Boxstar Spyder in my hand. I panic, I run through the door, but it’s all the same. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, still it’s all the same. I look at my partner in front of the screen … nothing, a stranger. … I can’t go back … It’s all gone, ‘they’ are gone … I wake up …

One of the more recent times I had this nightmare, I was asleep on that mattress. In this dream it was a ‘he’ that came to wake me up to give me a cup of tea. He gently shook my shoulder but I didn’t wake. I didn’t want to. I knew that if I woke that all of it would be gone. In my mind I begged him not to wake me up. I told him that I won’t remember anything about him if I did. He kept shaking my shoulder and I kept begging. When I felt myself waking up I did everything I could to remember everything about him. All I could wake up with was that he was younger than me, had curly black hair and deep blue eyes…

I had this nightmare again a few days ago. A few days earlier I was head hunted for a job. It was a managers position of a whole department, in an industry that I never wanted to work for again. The kicker, however, was that it paid 65K a year. I probably could have negotiated up to 75K. I was good at that line of work, really good! And I hated myself for it. I knew just how stick that knife in without them even knowing it and get a whole array of desired effects. I could even twist it and have them believing that they were getting a deep back message. I could find the slightest loophole and spin anything in any direction imaginable… I still had principals, a code per say. I was fired from 2 jobs because I wasn’t willing to amend them.

I’m scrapping by being self employed right now. Other than a pesky student loan of some too many years, I owe nothing. I don’t own property or a car. I’m not famous but I’m known in the community and they support me and what I do… And I love what I do! LOVE what I do … I have a roof over my head, in a country I’ve always dreamed of living in. I have a bed to sleep in, food for the table, and clothes to wear. My time is my own and with a bit of careful planing and saving I can travel and experience world! … I am poor, and to introduce another component, my husband is, well, not around. But despite my lack of money and husband I do so enjoy my monastic life!

I take this job and all of this is gone. I can’t do both and there’s no going back. I will, however have 75K a year. I may even gain some respect from my husband? Maybe he won’t be so embarrassed by me, or resent me? He may even be proud of me. … Is it worth it? … I have a couple of short comings but I have a treasure chest of nearly everything I’ve ever wanted. So, do I walk through that door, do I look away, wake up to 75K a year?

Almost Naughty

Old dream I had back in September 2006. – It’s almost naughty …

I was standing in an excavation for my house, leaning against one of the walls. I was pissed off ‘coz they didn’t excavate the garage down low enough. There was a young dark curly haired woman standing on the far end of the upper level wearing jeans and a boat neck t-shirt telling me that the excavation was done wrong, which was making me even more irritated. The foreman in a navy blue and cream plaid jacket, dirty yellow hardhat, leather gloves and burly work boots worn at the toes, walks up to the edge of the excavation wall that I was leaning against. He looked like a young Dennis Quaid. He was telling me something about getting it taken care of, but I was so encapsulated by him that I had no idea what he was saying. One of his workers dressed in a navy blue work pants and a navy blue jacket came by and said something to the effect of “ I’ll get on it”. While this foreman was talking to me I said to myself “Why don’t you just fuck me instead.”

He jumped down into the excavation cut with me and started telling me something about the soils in the excavation walls that I already knew. I’m a geologist for Christ sake. He stood really close and smelled like tea tree oil. I don’t know if it was because it was a little chilly, but I could feel the warmth, the energy between us. All I wanted to do is grab him and pull him into me, but I resisted, enjoying the temptation. He came in closer, so close that we could feel each other breathing. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight.” I said.

Now we are at dinner, sitting in an oversized circular booth in the usual low light restaurant. There’s all the usual restaurant commotion going on around us, but we are sitting very close together oblivious to everything but each other. He’s wearing a steel gray suit, black tie and a pressed white oxford shirt. Still he smells like tea tree oil. We don’t eat, or drink, and we say very little, we are just sitting listening to our breathing, again reveling in the temptation.

I nod my head and get up to use the ladies room. What I find out is that I started my period. “Damn it!” I say.  “I can’t let him know about this, and I can’t let him get away.”

We are walking to my place which is a town house on a cobble stone walk way, there’s 5 steps that lead up to my deep red door and lamp posts on the railings on either side of the stairs. I step up to the 3rd stair and turn around. I lean in as close as I can without touching him. “We’ll go out next Fri. I’ll meet you at your place.” I whisper and ran up the last two stairs and through the deep red door. – I never lock my doors.

I’m in an elevator and I get out on the 5th floor. I walk down the plush carpeted hallway, admiring the gold knockers on every door. I’m wearing a tight knee length black dress with an Asian style collar. It has a circular cut out above the chest exposing cleavage I never thought I had.  My hair was wavy and pulled up, held in place with a single chopstick hairpin. I felt like I was walking in the clouds, though that might have been my six inch black stiletto heels.

The door at the end of the hall opened up and I walked in. He had a large flat that opened up to a kitchen, dinning room and study area. It was tastefully decorated in warm autumn colors.  There was a large wine case in the dinning room, along with bunches of garlic and red chilies hanging in the kitchen. The shelves in his study were sophistically cluttered with heavy leather bond books that dribbled over his antique cherry wood desk. His big bay windows lead out to the balcony that looked out over the mountains. And there again was that intoxicating smell of tea tree oil.

I turn to him and he shuts the door he’s wearing the same steel gray suit minus the jacket and the tie. My back is up against the wall and he steps in close. With his powerful paw like hands, he traces my hairline from the top of my head, past my ear and down my long neckline. He comes in closer. I can feel his face brush against my check his warm breath on my neck. There we stand defenseless and silent.

He retraces my neck and hairline and pulls out the pin holding up my hair. My auburn hair cascades down in a wavy mass around my shoulders, around his face and he breaths me in, holds me there and ever so slowly, exhales. Inebriated we rest our heads against another. “I’ve wanted this from the moment I saw you.” He said.