The Dream
A sea liner—
a group of women with me.
The captain struggled
to steer the ship
through a storm.
The women—
they wanted to lay mattresses
on the floor,
to soften our fall.
I persuaded them not to—
the mattresses
would make us
more unbalanced.
I suggested: clear the room.
When the ship loses control,
at least we won’t fall
on broken glass.
—
On land.
The UK coast, somewhere.
Cold.
Sharp.
I saw a penguin
on the hill—
I knew:
this was a bad sign.
A scream behind me:
Run!
I ascended the hill,
up a narrow,
steep,
slippy,
snowy path.
A tsunami approached.
Something else too—
a wild animal
I never saw,
but I knew
was there.
—
Later, at a friend’s house,
before going out
for the night.
I poured a glass of wine.
I smoked a cigarette.
(I haven’t smoked in ten years.)
My bestie complained
about the dog
bringing ‘field poo’
into the house.
(She meant mud.)
I was talking,
enjoying good company.
I stood up and said:
“I have to get ready,
or we’ll never get out tonight.”
I explained:
“Once you change
the way you see the field poo,
you’ll feel differently.”
“It’s not field poo.
It’s the sustenance of life.
It’s alive.
It feeds us.
Everything comes from it.
Everything
goes back
to it.”
The Meaning
the sea liner and stormy sea
A group of women = my school community and the instability that surrounds it. The mattress? More imbalance disguised as cushioning. For me, I insist on practical, proactive safety measures. Let’s not get cut by the glass that will inevitably smash. This reflects how I face chaos: instead of pretending I can soften the impact, I tidy my emotional room instead.
the penguin and the tsunami
A penguin? On a UK hillside? Even in the snow, this bird is out of place. The avian equivalent to an elephant in the room. And the voice behind me? My subconscious knowing there’s a reason to run. I don’t go side ways, I go up the steep hill, the hardest but safest route away from the danger. The tsunami? Overwhelming emotions. The wild animal? Anxiety, the always-present invisible stalker.
wine, cigarettes, and mud poo philosophy
Back on dry land: wine, friends and old bad habits. I return to the comforting ritual of “getting ready,” but with a TED Talk to my bestie on how actual shit is a life source.
I’m full circle in this dream. I’ve weathered the storm. Ran hell for leather away from my anxiety, uncomfortable emotions and finally relaxed with a glass of wine and a fag whilst recounting that ‘shit’ is a matter of how you frame it.
What Lingers…
What if survival isn’t the end, but the beginning of something softer?
What would it look like to stop bracing for impact and start making space to live?
Marginalia
A day or two before this dream, I woke with a sudden memory of yarrow, which prompted me to start taking it. This was the first dream I had after drinking yarrow tea—just days after leaving school—and clearly, my brain was trying to process what had happened. This dream marks the beginning of my log.