Kitty: 8th - 10th November

Snippets from these nights' dreams:

Saturday 8th November.

Reality: I am staying at Grace's family house in Christchurch.
Dream: We are all gathered in the frontyard when it starts snowing, and the snowflakes look like luminescent paper cut-outs, the kind you learn to make in primary school. The form they take on the ground is sporadic but the landing is very precise: slapping down and sticking to the concrete almost as if one were watching footage of them being peeled off the ground but playing in reverse. I move through the flakes in a kind of shuffling dance, joined by one other miscellaneous person, a crowd looks on.

There is a large basin of plums on the kitchen bench, ready to be used for cooking. I plunge my hands into the fruit and squeeze and shmoosh until the bowl is filled with more juice than flesh and my hands are covered in crimson pulp.Cu
Cut to: peeling the entire sack of potatoes in an attempt to prove myself to be a good house-guest. Grace's mother enters; not entirely impressed.

Reality: The day of the election.
Dream: Walking down a large street, rather like Auckland's Queen street. "Look," I cry "there's a primary school where you can vote!" I am determined that the voting will be completed here. In actual fact it was a centre for science innovation...

Sunday 9th November.

We are shooting a commercial for student job search. Setting: underwater in a swimming pool. Of course it has to be done at night because the pool will be empty. During the day we go hydrosliding but the lifeguards get angry at us for sliding too close together and issue us with large chunks of polystyrene to attach to ourselves in order to slow us down. Sneakily some people only take very small pieces…
I arrive at the commercial shoot - instead of the pool they have transformed a basement carpark with tons of water and blue patterned vinyl on the walls.
There is a certain darkness and uncertainty to this night's dreams.

Monday 10th November.

There was a lot of death last night. Somebody killed in a car with strange implements - we watch from a rooftop. Later we are running from the scene of a different crime; the police catch up but we present a piece of scrawled on refill which proves us to be clinically insane and we get off with psychiatric counseling as our punishment.