Tuesday Night: The Pirate Ship
I was on a ship. It was built like a squarish barge. The rooms had sliding wooden doors like a Japanese house. It really was more like a house that happened to float. Everything was exposed, plain wood, unpainted and unvarnished. The small crew was made up of vagabonds of some kind, and my husband and I were on the ship somewhat unwillingly – like we were of very low rank, or taken captive at some point. We didn't hate being there, but we had to be careful about what we did and who saw us, because we were planning to escape. The ship's captain was a saucy woman, and I knew little else of her, except that we stayed out of her way.
My job on this particular day was to heave a lost treasure from a sunken ship on the bottom of the bay. The rest of the crew had already somehow attached, or discovered, a rope that was tied to the fabled box. While another crew member held my feet, I dangled off the bow of the ship, with my torso and head under the waves, and pulled on the rope – trying to achieve the right angle to drag the treasure chest through the twisted corridors of the sunken ship, hopefully out of the main hatch. Somehow I wasn't as panicked about not being able to breathe. It felt satisfying to tug the rope and angle it around with my arms – I could feel the weight coming loose. Periodically I'd come up for air. Finally, I felt a good tug and the rope became somewhat slacked. I pulled the rope back up, but found only the end, marked by a carabiner – no treasure. The captain was very disappointed.
My husband and I sneaked down to the steerage area of the ship, hoping to escape through the hatch or plug at the very bottom. (I guess theoretically this would sink the ship itself, but it was more like a house to me, and I reasoned that we could escape through the "basement".) The final hatch down, however, was crammed with food of the captain's, and we had to dig through it all to find the stairs out. Bagged salad, ham, yogurt... it was like a big ice chest. Package after package of food was tossed onto the floor until there wasn't enough room to stack more – but perhaps we were getting close to the exit? I swore I was beginning to see stairs underneath all the food. Suddenly, the captain appeared in the doorway behind us, and we fumbled for an excuse, saying that we were organizing the groceries or something. She seemed indifferent.
We returned topside, somewhat disappointed in the day's events. But we soon realized that the ship was scuttling along quickly, and into a new territory. There were small Monument Valley-looking peaks coming up out of the ocean. The sky was like a milky sunset, and the water was a gray-blue. Eventually there were also houses on stilts next to the rock formations, somehow weathering the ocean with ease. We sat and watched the seascape happily.
Wednesday Night: Marooned, Home, Flying
I was in the navy. (What's with the ocean theme?) As the dream began, I was in the hallway of a submarine, arguing with the captain. He was a stocky, bald man with a sharp nose, striking teeth, and thin, arched eyebrows – when he was angry, he looked terrifying. I knew he was a tyrannical leader, and he had done something terribly wrong. I was challenging him while a few other sailors watched, paralyzed. I said something like, "you shouldn't be the captain", and he was aghast, furious. "What did you say to me?". I stood there courageously, unflinching. It was then that he decided to abandon me at sea. I was prepared for the rite – had a life vest forced on and received a villainous dialogue. The captain offered me some newspapers, and I knew somehow they were to pack the life vest, or their use as a shield from the sun (in the water?? oh, well!). I took the papers and then dropped them to the ground defiantly, staring the captain in the eye. He shrugged and said, "your choice! remember that when the sun begins to burn you alive". I was then unceremoniously plopped into the water and the submarine sank below me, disappearing. I was left alone in the ocean.
I was not in the water for too long before some sharks appeared, nipping at my feet. I began to get scared when I saw a biplane coming my way – even descending toward the surface of the water, closer and closer, until I could reach out and grab the wheel struts. And I did! Just as the sharks were mighty interested in me, I was dangling from the airplane and in the air. There might have even been an Indiana Jones-style soundtrack. The pilot I yelled over the sound of the engine[s, as the plane kept morphing into different models] and he explained that he had heard about the captain and we were on our way to arrest him as the submarine entered its home port. We were soon entering a port city, with a long bay at the center. There was the submarine, and it was being escorted by police boats and helicopters. The pilot of my rescue admitted that they probably had it covered and didn't need our assistance. Seeing as how I was dangling hundreds of feet above the earth, I didn't disagree, but it was an exciting flight.
I was dropped off about a mile from my home. It was a dry, dusty, wooded area, and the path was a dirt road carved into a steep hillside. (This is based on a childhood retreat in the Sierra Nevada range, I'm certain.) In the woods were these large, white birds, like egrets. They were everywhere. As I continued walking up the path, they flapped out away or scuttled further into the woods. At the end of the path was a squarish alcove carved into the hillside itself, like an adobe cavern, with one door at the end. It was a porch of sorts, and waiting there were 3 or 4 sea gulls. They were like cartoons, with bulgy eyes and erratic personalities, merely waddling about and squawking at random. I scuffled my shoes on a mat, kicked them off, and opened the door. I was thankful to be home, and not marooned at sea to be eaten by sharks!
As I stepped out of the adobe alcove and into my home, it was suddenly a modern condominium, and I was directly facing the broad windows overlooking the city of Seattle, Washington. It was very comfortable, and I felt enormous relief. My husband, or a roommate, or someone was either home, or arrived in short order. Somehow from there, we were able to float out of the condominium, either on some kind of balloon or flying apparatus, or some sudden power of flight, and hovered, just beyond the tree line, over the city. I pointed out buildings I knew, memories I had, where friends had lived. There was a park and large monastery with red shingles, among other things. It was beautiful.