Dream journal:
Dream fragment: The canyon above my grandmothers house, is filled with smoke, a wall of flames advancing toward me. I run into the house, dial operator for the fire department, screaming there’s a huge fire. I am informed that the fire department doesn’t begin working until April. I am in an utter rage. Luckily, the ground is damp, the fire burns itself out. But I am going to do something about this atrocity. When help is needed, it should not be denied. The fire department was intact, but not taking calls until April? What was the point?
* * *
A woman alone
in her grandmothers house,
afraid, powerless to stop the fire,
calls for help. None is available, bureaucracy.
The fire goes out of its own accord.
She is determined to rectify the situation
now that the danger is passed
* * *
Dream fragment: A ranger and I are in the house, we are lovers, we’re getting ready to leave in the jeep. Two girls, almost teenagers, are with us. We’re giving them a ride. The ranger and I are hugging and kissing, he slips into the car and doesn’t hug me again. He drives off. I was expecting more.
* * *
Taking the elements of the dream fragment, my grandmother’s house, childhood connections, safety. You can never go back. Another time and place. We’re doing something inside, I can’t remember who or what. It is afternoon, hazy. It could be autumn. I’m not sure which sets off the spark, that sets the fire. I get the image of sunlight, glass, angle of light. The canyon is different with steep cliffs made mostly of rock that’s why the fire stops. If the flames had leapt any higher they were at least 100 hundred feet tall or more, the trees at the top of the hill would’ve caught fire too and that would’ve been pure chaos. It was a contained fire moving towards us. Luckily the ground was damp from rain. It must’ve been in autumn and the fire played itself out. Since the fire department was on vacation, it was just as well.
Taking the elements of the dream fragment, my grandmother’s house, childhood connections, safety. You can never go back. Another time and place. We’re doing something inside, I can’t remember who or what. It is afternoon, hazy. It could be autumn. I’m not sure which sets off the spark, that sets the fire. I get the image of sunlight, glass, angle of light. The canyon is different with steep cliffs made mostly of rock that’s why the fire stops. If the flames had leapt any higher they were at least 100 hundred feet tall or more, the trees at the top of the hill would’ve caught fire too and that would’ve been pure chaos. It was a contained fire moving towards us. Luckily the ground was damp from rain. It must’ve been in autumn and the fire played itself out. Since the fire department was on vacation, it was just as well.
* * *
Symbols of telephone and fire department. One looks up on the telephone as a tool to reach out, to call for help, communication. 200 years ago no one would run into a house to phone for help. This is a new symbol, one that I’ve grown up with. I remember when we got our first phone. It was autumn, or maybe winter. Stephanie and I dialed my number and talk to my grandmother who wasn’t terribly amused by it all. However we were thrilled, at least I was.
The operator didn’t try to help, it wasn’t the old black phone with the rotary dial. I remember screaming into the phone so loud that my voice hurt. I remember throwing the receiver on the couch and grabbing a hose and squirting the ground. It was successful. Somehow I could squirt the hose quite far. We were able to help ourselves after all.
Empowerment. I never had a chance to give anyone our address. I figured if they could trace the call… It was off the hook. Someone was still on the line when I came back in, explaining why they could not help us. I said never mind, we don’t need you anymore. And I said they would be hearing from me. I was that mad, mad enough to create a disturbance over what I thought was an extremely bad policy. Since I am a part-time paparazzi, I have the means to make publish my gripes.
Elements: fire equals anger and danger. Fire department traditional means of help, but inoperative. My wrath and scorn. Frustration, fear, and helplessness. I did all the right steps and still help would not come. The hose was an attempt to help myself. Luck equals forces beyond my control. Danger, House/safety is threatened. I am threatened. I’m not alone in this. Family members, I don’t know who and some friends to. That sense of others present is very comfortable like John.
What is missing in the dream? Look at it backwards. We could have abandoned everything and run away. The road to safety. That wasn’t an option. I don’t know why. The direction help would come from. It was unthinkable to abandon ship. It was the final option. Ask yourself what isn’t there. An alternate system where we were left to our own resources after all? Looking at it backwards. Anger at bureaucracy, threats putting out the fire, fire, building, threats threatening enough to engulf us. Talking inside the house, a blue column of smoke, the thought of broken glass.
* * *
* * *
So Elizabeth asked us specifically not to analyze or fragments, when I do, I see all the elements are there. Images are metaphors, if only I could remember more, I could make more connections. The work we did as a group on the clock imagery was amazing. Linda really zeroed in on me. How revealing each isolated image is. It is hard to avoid the narrative structure. We are such storytellers after all.
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