Dream:
I dreamt that I was at the airport; an airport anyhow, and I was in line at customs waiting to be cleared for a flight to Tehran, Iran. I was excited about this because I really wanted to soak in 3000 years of historical possibility and also to eat that rice dish where the rice is all mixed with herbs and then it’s hard and crusty on the top and you eat it with yogurt sauce…what’s that called?
Anyhow there I was in line, waiting, and I got into a kind of lengthy debate with the guard behind the desk who was in charge of allowing people into Iran. The desk was a square desk and people could mill around three sides of it while the guard turned to face them in his swivel chair. From here, the guard inspected my papers and declared that they were all wrong or something. I just don’t see the necessary documents here and I can’t allow you into the country. You can’t come in unless you tell me where you’re staying. I told him I was staying with a could of girlfriends of mine, but he didn’t buy it (even though it was true, according to the dream). I wanted to tell him I’d been to Iran before but then I realised that the stamps I had to prove it were in my old passport and this was my new passport. Damnit.
So, in the end, he denied me my trip. There were all kinds of people behind me clambering to get to the desk and they were trying to shove me aside. One particular fellow pushed me hard to one side and when I refused to budge it turned into a thing. We were standing leg to leg with our legs touching because neither of us wanted to give ground. He wanted to find out about his flight and I wanted to get back and argue with the guard (who was now denying someone else a flight). Eventually the fellow who shoved me and I came to exchanging hard words with each other.
At this point the line up was forgotten and this fellow, a little taller than I, with short brown hair and a kind of scrunched up boyish face that you just know hadn’t changed since he was a kid; at this point this fellow and I began to shove each other around. I hit his neck with the inside crook of my elbow and at the same time kicked his heels out and he fell to the ground and we went to the ground with I putting a couple of punches on his face as we landed. He didn’t like that at all and we rolled around a little and scuffled.
Then, suddenly not wanting to fight anymore over stupidity, I got up and said goodbye and left the building. And at a distance, still wanting to fight over stupidity, he got up and followed me.
Outdoors in this place was pretty spectacular. The atmosphere reminded me of a place like Hope BC and the mouth of the Frazer canyon, with cool rain spattered cliffs rich with vegetation rising up into white capped mountains and through it all ran a concrete road. I walked some distance down this road with the guy following me. Then, in order to lose him I turned into a park or sorts and picked my way through the trees.
The park seemed semi-wild to me, with unkempt bushes and no particular path to follow. I made my way for what must have been ten minutes through the scrub and the trees, always looking back to see if I was being followed, but it seemed I was not. Finally I came to a little clearing and decided to wait there.
Just as I came to rest, though, I saw a gang of guys coming up the hill toward me. They were all dressed like you might expect a bunch of dudes in a 1970s Kung Fu movie to be dressed, with tight jeans and scruffy looking t-shirts with that particular 1970s cut and occasionally big sunglasses. They were all Chinese, too; they were the gang of the guy I met at the airport (although he was white, not Chinese, but we do live in a multicultural world now-a-days…although this could change with jet fuel prices being what they are). I turned around and there was the guy himself, coming at me from the other direction, down the hill, and in a few moments I was surrounded.
At first I thought I was going to take a group beating; and indeed this was their intention. I made the point however, that this was between me and their leader. I made this point emphatically and eventually swayed them, but it took time. Then a large circle formed and he and I got ready to duke it out. I remember that I carefully put down the backpack I had and then took my wallet keys out of my pocket, removed my shoes and socks (I think I must have been thinking of Dune, where it is always better to fight barefoot), put my wallet and keys in my shoe, removed my glasses, and then got ready to fight. As I walked across the grass toward my enemy I noticed a lot of dog shit in the grass. I hope I don’t step in all that fucking dog shit while I’m fighting, I thought to myself.
Porlock:
The cat jumped up onto the bed and began to meow and head butt me on the arm. He likes to get attention at a particular hour of the day…especially Sundays at 10:00am when I wake up with a roaring hangover. Also, when I woke my left arm and hand were slightly asleep, so I turned over and faced the other way.
Conclusion:
I tried to sleep again, but I could not. The cat stayed and cuddled with me, resting his head on my tingly forearm. I wondered vaguely who would win the fight, but knew that it’s almost impossible to catch a dream that has escaped, fluttering up through my fingers into the bright daylight and then disappearing into the sun.
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