Dreaming
I woke this morning from what was arguably THE oddest dream I've ever had.
It started as I and a small group of friends entered the home of a friend in Kyoto. The friend wasn't there, but he'd urged us to make use of his home, the penthouse apartment on a very high high-rise. My husband's oldest brother and his wife were there, and my SIL offered to make us a meal. Though a simple meal, formed from canned and dry goods (think crackers and cream of chicken soup), it was a break from the backpacking meals we'd been eating.
When we finished, I went to the washi screens that led onto the balcony. Did I mention the apartment was very high? I got a bit of vertigo, but I could see the view was gorgeous (velvet black night, dotted with colored sparks from the city far below). Dropping to my knees, I crawled onto the terrace. A man from our group walked past me, laughing a little at my fear, and stood against the railing looking down.
A wind sprang up, and as skyscrapers do, the building began to sway. With each pass, it dipped a little closer to the earth until finally we were parallel with the ground far below us. The man with me was splayed across the railing, and I clung to the lacquered frame like a spider, praying the paper hinges would hold.
When the building righted itself, we scurried inside. Our friends had not noticed the building's movement, but one of the women was missing. I exchanged glances with the man, both of us trying to remember if she'd gone onto the terrace with us, but we didn't say anything.
From the apartment, we entered a tavern that offered exotic drinks and evey more exotic characters. As we passed through the room, gently guided by women in extreme makeup and bright silks, we started on the wildest ride ever.
For ride it was. Literally. All along, we'd been making our way through the entrance (and disguised queue) of an extravagant amusement park ride that was part Disneyland and part Dante's Inferno. We were loaded into cars and exposed to temptations of all seven sins, and encouraged to indulge. Sins of the flesh, sins of the spirit.
Much of it was frightening in its excess, but magnetic in its appeal, and I was both repulsed and irresistibly drawn. Some was grotesque (one room encouraged...ahem...intimate relations with its patrons, but as you...um...indulged, the bodies rotted away without losing their enthusiastic grin or their appetite).
One room was especially beautiful. Our little car turned into a boat and skimmed across a liquid sea, rocking on the waves. It was night, and the textured colors were rich and intense, like a Van Gogh painting but with a more delicate touch. A deep navy sky sparkled with silver that glinted against the black water. Buildings loomed around us from the waves, constructed of air and light, and as I sailed, I caught my breath, overcome by the beauty. I trailed my hand in the cool caress of the water, but when I lifted it out, it was dry. We splashed through a wave, and sterling droplets sprayed across our upturned faces, but again, they were dry afterward. At one point, we sailed near a indigo dock where sailors worked in a choreographed dance. If I worked at it, I could see the "dock" was a stage, and the sparkling city behind the sailors only a backdrop, but if I stopped pushing to see it, the set dropped away and became, again, a magical city on a harbor. I wondered, briefly, what was the substance they'd used as water (mercury, perhaps?), but then I was lost in the spell.
It became too much. Too much stimulation, too much input, and we longed for the ride to end, but instead we rode from room to room, from temptation to temptation.
Finally, finally our little car rolled into the station and slowed. Around me, passengers stood gratefully and moved off the car, not speaking. In my mind, I stood with them, pondering on the great truths this wild ride had taught.
But in truth, I sat in the car and started on the ride again, feeling guilty and gluttonous, nervous about whether I could withstand it again, excited to repeat the experience.
The second time around, the ride changed. In the first room, desserts were stacked on every surface: towers of cheesecakes made from exotic fruits that don't exist, silky cream pies, layers of torte, dark chocolate and bright fruit filling, creamy custards. I chose a molten chocolate decadence, and with the first bite, one of the silken women in heavy makeup materialized. "Eat," she urged me. "Eat more."
And I ate. More than one could possibly hold, and still she urged, "Eat." Though I felt increasingly full (and uncomfortable), it seemed there was no limit to what I could hold, so I tried everything: pies, cakes, tortes, puddings.
At some point in middle of this gorge-feast, I felt soft fur stroking my arm, and the exquisite sensation was just part of the ride: yet another of life's indulgences offering itself to my pleasure.
That is, until the fur stole that was stroking my arm snarled, and Mad Scientist whispered, "Mom? I'm with you!"
It started as I and a small group of friends entered the home of a friend in Kyoto. The friend wasn't there, but he'd urged us to make use of his home, the penthouse apartment on a very high high-rise. My husband's oldest brother and his wife were there, and my SIL offered to make us a meal. Though a simple meal, formed from canned and dry goods (think crackers and cream of chicken soup), it was a break from the backpacking meals we'd been eating.
When we finished, I went to the washi screens that led onto the balcony. Did I mention the apartment was very high? I got a bit of vertigo, but I could see the view was gorgeous (velvet black night, dotted with colored sparks from the city far below). Dropping to my knees, I crawled onto the terrace. A man from our group walked past me, laughing a little at my fear, and stood against the railing looking down.
A wind sprang up, and as skyscrapers do, the building began to sway. With each pass, it dipped a little closer to the earth until finally we were parallel with the ground far below us. The man with me was splayed across the railing, and I clung to the lacquered frame like a spider, praying the paper hinges would hold.
When the building righted itself, we scurried inside. Our friends had not noticed the building's movement, but one of the women was missing. I exchanged glances with the man, both of us trying to remember if she'd gone onto the terrace with us, but we didn't say anything.
From the apartment, we entered a tavern that offered exotic drinks and evey more exotic characters. As we passed through the room, gently guided by women in extreme makeup and bright silks, we started on the wildest ride ever.
For ride it was. Literally. All along, we'd been making our way through the entrance (and disguised queue) of an extravagant amusement park ride that was part Disneyland and part Dante's Inferno. We were loaded into cars and exposed to temptations of all seven sins, and encouraged to indulge. Sins of the flesh, sins of the spirit.
Much of it was frightening in its excess, but magnetic in its appeal, and I was both repulsed and irresistibly drawn. Some was grotesque (one room encouraged...ahem...intimate relations with its patrons, but as you...um...indulged, the bodies rotted away without losing their enthusiastic grin or their appetite).
One room was especially beautiful. Our little car turned into a boat and skimmed across a liquid sea, rocking on the waves. It was night, and the textured colors were rich and intense, like a Van Gogh painting but with a more delicate touch. A deep navy sky sparkled with silver that glinted against the black water. Buildings loomed around us from the waves, constructed of air and light, and as I sailed, I caught my breath, overcome by the beauty. I trailed my hand in the cool caress of the water, but when I lifted it out, it was dry. We splashed through a wave, and sterling droplets sprayed across our upturned faces, but again, they were dry afterward. At one point, we sailed near a indigo dock where sailors worked in a choreographed dance. If I worked at it, I could see the "dock" was a stage, and the sparkling city behind the sailors only a backdrop, but if I stopped pushing to see it, the set dropped away and became, again, a magical city on a harbor. I wondered, briefly, what was the substance they'd used as water (mercury, perhaps?), but then I was lost in the spell.
It became too much. Too much stimulation, too much input, and we longed for the ride to end, but instead we rode from room to room, from temptation to temptation.
Finally, finally our little car rolled into the station and slowed. Around me, passengers stood gratefully and moved off the car, not speaking. In my mind, I stood with them, pondering on the great truths this wild ride had taught.
But in truth, I sat in the car and started on the ride again, feeling guilty and gluttonous, nervous about whether I could withstand it again, excited to repeat the experience.
The second time around, the ride changed. In the first room, desserts were stacked on every surface: towers of cheesecakes made from exotic fruits that don't exist, silky cream pies, layers of torte, dark chocolate and bright fruit filling, creamy custards. I chose a molten chocolate decadence, and with the first bite, one of the silken women in heavy makeup materialized. "Eat," she urged me. "Eat more."
And I ate. More than one could possibly hold, and still she urged, "Eat." Though I felt increasingly full (and uncomfortable), it seemed there was no limit to what I could hold, so I tried everything: pies, cakes, tortes, puddings.
At some point in middle of this gorge-feast, I felt soft fur stroking my arm, and the exquisite sensation was just part of the ride: yet another of life's indulgences offering itself to my pleasure.
That is, until the fur stole that was stroking my arm snarled, and Mad Scientist whispered, "Mom? I'm with you!"