Sunday, May 07, 2017

re: motorbike dreams

Hello friends, fans, foe and lovers,

i bring to you a new dream, please read and enjoy in some way, it's a calm dream, but it's filled with anecdotes and memories. let's begin.

Motorbike dreams:
Woke up last night from a dream, where I was given a motorbike, some kind of blue/green Honda motorbike. It was a gift from a friend, a dude whose face reminded hidden behind an ever shifting blur that was like a mask that was constantly moving in an octagonal shape, a flesh covered mask. I rode the bike from the North shore part of town, somewhere around Schubert, maybe Courtenay Avenue, which was the last place I lived before I left Kamloops when I was sixteen.

When I was that age, it was tumultuous to say the least, I remember cutting the grass in the backyard and when I was finished the neighbour asked how I was doing and I broke down crying. Which was a rare show of face, because I came from the era of hide it, the pain, deep down inside and never show anyone. But for some reason I balled my eyes out and the neighbour reached out and gave me a hug and assured me everything was going to be alright.

I have a feeling it was that neighbour who gave me the motorbike, he was an auto salesman, and constantly had new bikes, trucks and cars. Anyway, back then Courtenay Avenue was a rough street, a balance of low income renters and middle class home owners, the crime wasn’t bad, but the drinking and physical abuse could be heard happening any given night on that street along with sirens and cops and occasionally ambulances. I had no safe place to run to back then, so I left for good in the coming weeks and didn’t really look back again until now.

So, in the dream I had last night, I was given this motorbike, which you had to kick start, something I vaguely remember how to do, as when I was a kid, around 7 or 8 my cousin Michael had two little Honda 50 or 60 cc motorbikes that we used to rip around on out in Del Oro, a suburb on the outskirts of town. He’s deaf, but we’ve been close since we were toddlers, and I knew sign language, so he taught me how to ride a motorbike and kick start one. Those were the good days, riding around a barely complete suburb, empty lots and houses, doing brake stands and pop a wheelies and racing each other a km back to home.

Like any Aboriginal kid, or native or indian as we were known as back then, I lived with all my aunties and uncles at some point, my mother was 16 when she had me and was going through a lot of trauma from being in residential schools since she was 5 or 6. She went through hell and abuse and I have made my peace with her for the way we lived when I was younger, she’s my mom, I love her and she’s living a good life these days, so I’m really happy for her. Everyone deserves a fair break and for things to work out and she’s riding things out her way at last. Anyway, back to the dream, I get the motorbike and remember riding around the North shore testing it out, getting a feel for the throttle, the clutch and changing gears.

Once I felt comfortable enough, I rode out towards Westsyde road and down the 4-lane road out towards an undetermined street, maybe Fort Street, I lived there for awhile when I was a kid. I pulled the bike to the end of a street and a large open gravel lot and parked it. I went and got a white bucket from a house and filled it with warm water and place a Styrofoam cup in it. Then I left it and walked back to the house and went inside and waited at a table for the owners to come back. When they did, it was a man and a woman, in their 50’s and my dad in a wheelchair who came in the house, looked at me and left again outside. He didn’t say a word to me, the woman came and sat beside me and said something, but I can’t remember, along the lines of “it’s not your fault, he’s just pissed off about something,” and the man went to go get my father. I told her I had been given a motorbike and she said she knew already, so I told her I’d go get it, and I guess that’s why my father was mad, because I was riding a motorbike. I think he was worried I’d end up in a gang or something.

I left the house and walked to the end of the street and got on the motorbike and ripped past the house and my father doing a brake stand and riding on the back wheel of the motorbike and headed back to Westsyde road. Once I got back onto it I rode back towards town and woke up. It seemed like a new dream, a lot of my dreams seem old and recurring for some reason. But lately I’ve been dreaming about the Westsyde area, I went to one grade of elementary school out there, grade 6 or 7 and lived in a couple places. I wonder if I’m processing something from that time now? I was 11 or 12 when I lived out there and remember riding into town on my bike, a ten-speed classic with the mountain goat type curled forward handlebars.

Unbeknownst to my mum or stepdad I would bike 5km into town on Saturday or Sundays to go to a bookstore that is now a gun store, and look at mad magazines or other comics and funnies. Buy something or not, and bike the 5 km back home in an afternoon. I was reading full-length chapter books then too, mainly boy type ones, apocalyptic mad max type books, barbarians, sci-fi and horror even. I read voraciously like my son and daughters do, reading was an escape I suppose. Creating worlds and dreams of escaping Kamloops, and when I finally could escape and leave this town, I did. I traveled the world for almost 20 years now, as a tourist, an adventurer, a musician, an artist, a father, a writer and a filmmaker. Now I’m back and still in Kamloops and don’t mind it as much as when I hadn’t left. Tom Waits said it best, “the world feels like a shoebox if you haven’t left your hometown, but once you do and leave for a few years and come back, it’s as big as you can imagine.” Or something like that. Haha.


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So, I wonder if I’m processing something long forgotten events and memories finally as I near 50 years old or if something else is going on in my subconscious? Like I’ve said, a lot of my dreams seem old and recurring, so when something new happens it’s exciting and interesting, at a certain point in the dream, I knew it was a dream, when I saw my dad with the man and woman come up to the house I didn’t recognize but made myself at home in and waited for them. Dreams are so strange and fascinating, I’ll probably this one again now that I’m aware of it, so we’ll see what happens shall we?

my youngest and i as i wrote this blog post

this blog post.

kamloops view north from the steps 
of the old courthouse.


creative fuel. 

old courthouse view facing west Kamloops valley

li'l Chris Bose, maybe 7 years old? 
missing teeth. haha. 

Friday, March 17, 2017

re: zombie apocalypse.

Zombie apocalypse:

I take my kids to a friends house for a birthday party, it’s a large house, quite large, 2 floors, beam and post wood house. A zombie apocalypse occurs during the part and zombies, or walkers start to show up and the house is sort of surrounded. A lot of the guests flee, but at least 15 of us decide to stay, the friend has a large cache of guns and ammo, so we arm up, and start locking up the house. It’s a compound kind of house, with other buildings in the back yard, some kids get trapped in a wagon type thing with a bunch of zombies around them, so we make a plan and split into two groups, one group goes to the right side of the compound in a truck, and distracts the walkers away from the kids, myself and 4 or 5 other guys run out of a basement door to the wagon and get the kids.

A woman dressed in zombie blood clothes sneaks over and I shit you not, throws a big bag of pre-cooked waffles where the kids were and somehow makes it back to the truck. She slips and falls, so we distract the walkers with gunfire and she gets up and makes it back to the truck, which tears ass out of there. We make it back to the house with the kids and lock the doors up. There’s a lot of glass windows, it’s like an enclosed patio, so we go further in the house and lock up behind as we go. We get to the second floor and all meet in the dining room and start to make a plan, I say to them that we have to tape up all the windows we can with paper so walkers can’t see in, so we start looking for paper and tape and begin doing that.

As I’m going to the far side of the house, I start to see people huddling around outside, trying to get in, I go down a set of stairs to get some paper I remember kids drawing on and there’s a whole squad of guys in fatigues, but they’re big guys, as in kind of doughy. They’re just outside the door, so I close it and lock it. Then go upstairs and tell the rest of the group about it, and someone says they saw them already too, and there’s more people around the house.

We start taping up the windows and discuss what we should do. The kids are all safe, we meeting in a room that’s basically an armoury, it’s brightly lit and white walls that are false and behind them there’s a lot of weapons. One guy in the group is huge, so takes a big machine gun of some kind, an m-60 I think and begins loading up. The rest of us talk and figure out what to do next, one guy is the leader, dark hair and parted to the side, it seems like it’s his house. Then I wake up.

Analysis:

This dream feels fairly new, but there were elements that I feel like have happened before, the whole bag of waffles to feed the zombies part is something I remember before, maybe I had this dream all night and it kept changing? And it’s weird, I woke up at 7 am and was fine, I turned over and fell back asleep and it’s 8 am, so this dream happened within the hour. I groggily got up and started typing immediately. What’s with the fat dough boys in fatigues? 

There are a few buildings in the back, a large pool house and a weird log structure, that’s unfinished and beside it is a large garage type building, 3 doors I believe and a couple sheds as well. I think it’s somewhat secluded in the forest somewhere, forest all around and I don’t remember seeing other houses around it. Lots of windows though, and that’ll be the weak point of the building, there’s a lot of people in the house. I felt really groggy as hell when I woke up and part of me thinks this has happened before a recurring dream.  



Wednesday, March 01, 2017

2 dreams tonight.

Hello lovers, friends, fans and foe,

2 new dreams/nightmares, one brand new and the other a recurring one that always ends the same way. let's start shall we?!

A new dream:

In a park doing some kind of scientific research, with a team of scientists, it’s dusk, and some big guy comes charging through the park throwing what are the biggest bats I’ve ever seen like a giant baseball. He charges through one of the park and then comes back to us, asking us what we’re doing, we tell him weather tests and earth quake tests. He walks into our mobile lab and he’s got body modifications, wires sticking out of his head and his left eye changes colour, things that help him with the bats and other things he tells us. He’s ripped and buff, he walks out of the lab, everyone stares at him and he throws a giant bat through the air, their as big as my 7 year old daughter with a wingspan that’s got to be five feet across, tan on the outside, almost fuzzy looking and dark brown on the inside. Suddenly a scientist looks at the ground and all the worms are coming out of the ground, pink and huge, a key scientist looks at one called “Meredith,” what is going on?” and I wake up and type this. The sky is purples and charged with electricity, it feels like we’re at McArthur park on the north shore here in town.

A recurring dream/nightmare:

Trapped in a school my son and one of my daughters, I’m there to pick them up and the doors lock, and windows lead to other classrooms. We’re stuck with another girl and her two siblings. We leave one room trying to find a way out and are chased by other children, we end up in the same room, like an office. Some of the children chasing us mummify into horrifying gifts that turn brown, green and black, then emit this horrible scream like an inhaling scream as they chase us. If you punch them they implode and dust is everywhere. We always end up in the same office and the way out is to turn down the Christmas tree and lights and give each other gifts, and then santa knows it’s Christmas. Once we do this we are allowed to leave the school just in time for Christmas eve. This time I give my song part of a bundle I always carry with me and my daughter a medicine pouch, the other kids get gifts of candy canes and chocolate my daughter has with her, as she always has sweet treats. The school goes dark and we leave when a door to the outside opens up and we aren’t bothered as we walk past all the children that mummify into ghastly specters.


I’ve had this dream a few times before and tonight I remembered the way out when one of the other children says “we have to turn down the lights on the Christmas tree so santa knows it’s Christmas eve.” I don’t understand the significance of it or if there’s any truth to it, but it always works and that’s how we’re able to leave. Tonight the dream seemed shorter. I remembered this time, seeing the doors out are like giant bank vault doors and are shiny and steel looking. As we were looking for a way out, it’s a labyrinth of classroom after classroom where the kids are playing horrible games or being taught horrible things. We often end up chased and have things thrown at us and we always end up running into the other kids and take them with us. An older sister and two younger siblings, it’s a very weird, surreal dream/nightmare. Tonight I was glad it was over faster and we were able to get out of there. Even as I type this, I have that unsettling feeling I’m not 100 percent awake, even as the traffic drones past outside.


Sunday, February 19, 2017

re: new dream. vague and woken up from it.

Hello friends, fans, foe and lovers,

here is another sequence from "Dream Journals and Nightmares," what may end up being a book someday? 

Feb 19th, 2017
I am pulled out of a dream by my youngest daughter, it’s a bad dream, something about falling out of a red sky and fighting someone, her hand gently touches my forearm and I’m pulled out of sleep faster than anything I can remember in some time. It’s almost instantaneous and for a few seconds I don’t know where I am and bolt upright startling her. Then I realize where I am and I look at her wide eyes, “are you okay daddy?” she asks and I tell her I am. She tells me “you were breathing fast and I thought you were scared, and I wanted a hug.” My breathing is fast, like I was coming out of a sprint, and I’m not certain if from the dream or waking up so fast and freaked out, possibly both?

I sit up and my neck is sore, in the dream I was being strangled by a man in military clothes as we well out of the red sky, from a plane I presume? I check my phone and it’s 7:13 am, I woke up at 3:55 am and sat in front of the computer for an hour doing research on dreams and then forced myself back to sleep around 5 am. I ask her how long she has been awake, which is somewhat silly, because she doesn’t have a fully developed concept of time yet, “ten minutes she shrugs,” and I ask her another question, “was I snoring?” She gives me a thumbs up, “but you were breathing fast.” That last two hours were incredibly heavy sleep, darkness and a variety of dreams that seemed to interweave with one another. We have a fort built in the living room, I’m on the couch and my daughters on the foamy on the floor in the little fort we’ve built. My youngest who woke me up climbs up to the couch and gives me a long, tender hug, “I like morning hugs she tells me and then tickles me under the chin.

I had dreams before I woke up at 3:55 am but can’t remember them for the life of me. Dream journals and nightmares will be a scary, fun and interesting journey for certain. My youngest daughter taps on an ipad and her older sister snores gently beside her and I know it is time for coffee and the morning rituals that get people up and at it every morning. I stare at the ceiling for a moment and contemplate the future and how dull life seems these days compared to the chaos and mayhem of the road. I wonder how this is impacting my dreams and nightmares. Many of my dreams are recurring, picking up where things left of, vivid colours and realities, often dramatic and tense, with life or death decisions being made on the fly. So unlike real life where it’s so mundane I can hear paint peeling off the walls. What am I doing?!? Fear and doubt kill dreams, I think apathy brings the nightmares, but who knows for certain?

I feel as though I am coming out of a vast, unending fog and finally waking up. Thanks for dropping by and reading. Until next time,


cheers,

Chris Bose.