dreamed of triangular root nodes and women tying half their hair back in clasps. and N and my father and I were at a Japanese university. It was orientation week, and the leaders in our orientation group were grabbing lockers for our group, reserving them. I asked (half-heartedly) for a locker near my classroom but didn't get one, it didn't matter.

N and I walked around the university - it was pretty and busy, built on a steep slope with lots of bamboo construction. Large clay pots were sat on the pillars of every set of stairs, and there were heavy beams fixed to the top of each banister. There was an orientation event which involved students picking up the pots and beams and putting them in different places, swapping them around. It seemed largely pointless but I pulled one of the beams off its nails to try it. It was far to heavy for me to lift. In the spirit of participation N held my arm and had me swing out past the stairs, bending and damaging a thin bamboo banister in the process. Why were we doing this? It was destructive and not part of the reason for being here. 

in the morning light her kayak's steadily gliding towards the island, towards him and towards her new self, on and on, seeming with each moment to get closer and the light reflecting off the water in petals, then in sheets, brighter  and brighter till she can hardly see the island at all. 

'until the relationship is a problem...', Freud said, he remembers, well, now he's come down from  the garden to the waterfront, the letters in his hands - they're unanswerable, all of them, and if he's honest he's had some of them for years without answering them. this isn't the problem. the problem is that someone is coming, reaching unfathomably forward and his eyes are now closing against the flashing light, getting smaller in his face to keep it out. the earth that the jetty's rooted in is something of a relief - he will rest his eyes there now, he'll use his paws and dig a shelter....

three dreams:

I was crossing a farm in a storm. I sheltered in a farm house with LA and W and their kids. N too. The storm was so fierce, disturbed weather patterns, perhaps it would never come right. But I felt it on my cheek and although it was harsh I was ok. Was not hurt or blown away. We were all safe.

-

I discovered that just up the road from where I was living one could cross over into Thailand. There was a quiet resort on a beautiful blue-green bay, with islands, boats to potter around in. I realised by following TYY, who was also staying there. It was just 20 minutes away from my home. When the guests arrived the management were in a bit of a flap. There was an interview with the manager, the dad of the guy who unexpectedly owned the place  - he was young and confessed that he had no business experience at all, so whether this place was going to work or not was touch and go. I hoped he had been researching business manuals but thought that probably wasn't enough. The first round of drinks for the guests went well, because he went to a shop and bought a good selection of appealing drinks, and the wait-staff presented them in such a way that the guests ordered what was there. But when he came back with the second round of drinks he had just paper for cups that needed to be fitted together - hopeless.

-

I found a fantastic garment in a second-hand clothes shop. It was a high, starched, pointed white collar, an ornate silver broach below that, a pleated white shirt front and a navy blue cape, all pressed and immaculate, despite being second hand. I loved it and took it excitedly to show PHF and LA. Don't you think it looks like a lawyer's costume? But they were both lawyers and weren't so impressed. P showed me her actual lawyer's costume, much more full and elaborate, and all the other costumes she'd made for repertory theatre etc.

I was travelling through a large cave system, with many underground pools and rivers. I needed to be in the water - to swim, to drink or to travel downstream - but many of the pools were too shallow. I dived into one, holding my limbs close to my body - it was just deep enough for me but I had to be very careful. I made it safely. The water was stagnant, though and I had to find a way to go on. Image of water spilling over the lip, and of fresh water pouring into the pool. 

Dreamed that I was pregnant, about 6 months or so, but my belly was too small, so I was getting worried. 

a night full of dreams.

In the last one I was trying to get to a catch-up appointment with Glenn which was scheduled for 7pm. But it was in Auckland, on Customs St, where the tango studio used to be.

I was walking down Ponsonby Rd to get there and for some reason stopped in this little granny store. The two old ladies in there kept trying to sell me this, that and the next thing - ornamental plates and spoons and so on. I admired a spoon and agreed to buy it, and then they showed me a plate which happened to have a wedding message for my name and N's name (misspelt) so I though I better get that too, and then they were throwing other things in for free, wrapping them up in newspaper. It was getting later and later.

When I got out of there it was already 7, and it was cold. One of the plates, which I'd paid $150 for, had chipped as I put it in my bag and was already worthless but I decided not to mind. I started to walk as quickly as I could to the appointment but once I got down to the end of the road I realised I wasn't where I thought I was. Everything was so familiar but I couldn't remember how to get to his office. I was walking quickly here and there, trying to get there but not knowing where I was going. I decided this was wasting time so I went to pull my phone out of my bag to check the map. (There was an additional wool cardigan in my bag that made this hard - given to me by the old ladies. It wasn't going to fit over my jacket but at least I could put it on under the jacket if I got cold). I realised I couldn't remember the street name, so couldn't look it up on the map. I saw he'd been ringing, because it was now well after quarter past, but there was a new interface on my phone (because I was visiting NZ) and I couldn't get to the calls or texts or find the map. In looking for his text I saw a whole history of warm text messages from therapists I'd forgotten ever seeing, including 'Elizabeth the dramatist' and 'Roslyn'.

A strange man seemed to be following me as I dithered - I stopped and looked at him and he said 'Why are you following me?!' He looked a bit like N. I decided to try to call N but I couldn't get his number punched into the phone. I knew I was missing my appointment. Finally, crying, I turned to the guy following me, which was N, to ask for his help. "I'm lost, I have no idea where I am...". We embraced and I was relieved.

-

The dream before that I was seeing an new therapist and it turned out to be Charles Bernstein. He'd been recommended by LA, who was also seeing him, and she came with me to the appointment, which was in a waiting room. I knew she had been excitedly showing him her poems but I didn't expect to do that. He asked me a question and she started answering about herself, and then carrying on the conversation with another woman in the waiting room (a second therapist). He said we'd better go onto the next room, where it was quieter, so we did. It was his wife's dressing room. It was mosyly empty except for a large chest of drawers and in front of it, a series of large polished stones in a formation on the cream carpet. Some kind of configuration for contemplation, maybe an Eye of Horus. He said 'she has 700 dressers'. 'Capacious', I said. I was adjusting my thinking - I realised this wasn't the hoarding of junk, but the assembly of space and materials essential to a full creative practice. 

little memory -
we're at Clareville it's night, we're talking about the bilby, it's been rustling down the side of the house, maybe L saw it come inside. we make sad jokes about the neighbour with the leafblower. late at night. sounds or the thought of sounds, neighbour's dog barking or it's ours, a doorbell, thought of a halloween party, a fake moustache. actually I recall we made a moustache out of fine black (chow-chow) dog-hair. I think we taped it by the door to wear in case of strange visitors.

sounds of the boat masts clinking in the inlet. you move at the wrong moment and a baby possum freaks out and falls out off the trunk of a gum tree onto the verandah, onto its head.

last night I dreamed that I was at the T's house - a new house, different to the one on our old street. Kind of bland but large. I was wandering around, commenting on how much room they had. Mrs T said oh but there's even more - indicated a couple of wings I hadn't even seen - or were they the ones I was already thinking of? I remember talking freely and feeling comfortable. I was going to spend the day with the girls making art, we had a clear plan.

At some point talking to S I noticed she had two dads living there. I'd never noticed before that that was unusual. They just had this accommodation, because Mrs T had left one for the other but no one wanted to move out. They were peaceful and friendly enough, though perhaps the men didn't talk to each other. I realised it was peaceful because none of them had sex anymore. So it didn't matter.

*

I forgot that the squirrel was in this dream too - running away from the tree  across the ground. it was a squirrel and then more stably a rat. 

Last night's dream was full and elaborate; I was able to stay asleep until its closing and it woke me up with a clear sense of a completed message. The movie was set in an old, sweet part of Dublin with small cottages. I was going to a movie with a workmate; N was staying home with our two kids. When we came out of the movie the workmate and I were happy and excited, talking freely and easily about it. It was so exciting and good that we started to run on our way home, and then my colleague was so happy and liberated that he tore his clothes off and we continued to run like that, laughing and talking as we did. As we came to the bottom of the hill I realised that we were outside the door of my brother and sister-in-law's, and that they had probably seen us. Indeed, my sister-in-law was peering out their cottage window, looking concerned and disapproving. I pulled my colleague down the side street, the shortcut to my place, where it was much darker and no one would see. There were a couple of fleeting celebratory closed-mouth kisses as we went - and we came out of the sidestreet tucking in our shirts - my colleague had got dressed again. To my shock N was there, waiting on the corner - he saw us tucking in and I felt sick at the look on his face. He had the kids with him. I picked them up, our one year old and three year old, boy and girl, tucked one under each arm, thinking to show my commitment. It was awkward to carry them both but they both fell instantly asleep as I followed Nic indoors. There was a hooded Irish soothsayer set up at the step of our house. As I walked past with the sleeping children he said, "It only takes a moment to get carried away."

I shimmer above and just below the waterline. there's an island that I've boated to. the water glows to its depth around it, and its trees reflect in the surface of the water and into its currents, and there reflected is the house that is - was - owned by my parents, empty now, and sold on, but still inviting. will I approach? a woman, a friend and keeper of the island, has spoken vaguely but warmly - maybe in welcome, maybe just in the pleasure of being an islander herself. maybe there's a key, or nothing's locked. I'm not sure I even need to go into the house,

I bring a pile of letters with me. some are still in their envelopes, some I've already read, weeks or even months ago, unfortunately without answering or knowing how to.

Few are from my clients or former clients. Most come to me because of the word of mouth;  it's become known in the city that I answer letters, and that i turn no one away.

red dogs in the shade and sun, red dog mother in the shade, sons wandering in the sun. near the young tembusu trees with their corrugated bark. word is the cat population is thinning out.