Posted by: normanlgreen | May 19, 2013

Dream, May 19, 2013 Crossing the River of Centuries


Dream, home, 4:48am

I belong to a party of 17th Century Europeans sent to colonize the Americas. We have been sent up a river to displace some of the native population. We have been told to expect “savages” living on a long, thin island in the middle of a slow river.

We stand on a sandy clearing on the south bank and look across to the island. Green shrubs grow right to the edge of the far shore. We see no signs of the inhabitants. A man in a tall, wide-brimmed hat points across to a short segment on which we can gain a foothold. He has a square, white collar that covers most of the shoulders of his blue jacket and seems over dressed for adventuring.

Men women and children climb aboard flat boats and canoes for the crossing. I get into a boat. The current shifts the flat stern of my craft toward my destination. I struggle with a paddle to right the boat, then follow our quiet fleet across to the island.

One the shore, it is my job to unload plastic bottles of water and stash them along the bank. The inhabitants have tread a path along the shore and this is where, five feet apart, I lay the bottles on their sides. We have not seen the “savages”, but I hear voices speaking in a language I cannot recognize. Behind me, at the river’s edge, two young boys from our raiding party discuss marbles. I hush them with a gesture. They pout, but stop talking.

We move inland to discover a town from the 20th Century. Cars dating from the middle 50s through the early 60s stand at the curbs, but none of the natives are to be seen. We judge that they have gathered in a large community hall, knowing that they are being invaded by forces stronger than themselves. Someone in our group has organized our children to form a line to call on the kids within the meeting hall. While they offer this distraction, the adults circle around the back of the building. On a signal from our leader in the tall hat, a large space ship fires a blast of energy that seals the front entrance to the building, I – now no long “myself”, but a young woman of the raiding party – look through one of the open windows to see the “savages” sitting at long tables, wearing 20th Century clothing. They sit with quiet dignity and patience, waiting for our attack. When they speak it is with soft voices. I turn to my “father”, the leader of the Europeans, and tell him that I refuse to join in on the attack.

I ask, “Now that you have seen them, do you still feel superior?”

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Responses

  1. The strong images and the mood of this dream are so engaging, as though you are being momentarily connected to another’s historical perspective…seeing through those eyes, hearing through those ears. How did you feel when you woke up? Do you ever feel stuck in your dreams?

    • the two states do blend with each other — i have to watch what i say to people who appear on both sides of the line, to remember not to hold them accountable for what happened in my dream.

  2. Good point. You have an interesting, out-of-the-box muse. Refreshing.


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