Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Jack Rabbit

i was in a very sterile and dry dressing room of the music venue where i was about to play. It looked like a room in a mormon church... carpeted with this brownish orange kind of carpet with painted brick walls and an intercom in the room. It was very warm and still.... dehydrating.. boring and depressing. No couch. I was in that holding pattern in the hours between soundcheck and the show. Feeling at a losse end I decided to get in my car and look for some food. I don't know what city i was in and i'm  sure i didn't know the city well because i was getting caught on all of these one way streets. I wasn't finding the restaurant i wanted either and i was getting frustrated. While stuck on this one way system,  i passed by a clothing store that looked tempting and I wanted to go in. I stopped the car and parked up. As i was getting out of my car i looked at my watch to find that it was getting nearer to showtime and i was pushing it to get back in time to comfortably prepare. I saw this dress in the window though and the temptation was too strong... so i went in. I got lost in shopping. Everytime i felt the tug of showtime I ignored it and kept shopping . It was properly stressful. I don't know why i did that. I didn't go back to the venue. I didn't play the show. I found myself  next in my fathers closet where all if his clothes were hanging. I didn't recognise the room i was in ... just the suits sweaters and shoes. The closet was wooden and well crafted and there was stone and the lighting was gentle and warm. This was a large walk in closet . I approached the mirror.  A garment hanging to my left caught my eye. It was a womans' blouse. I had never seen it before but i knew instinctively that it once belonged to my mother. It was a grey sort of purple silk and looked vintage chinese. It was cut off around the bottom  and was left unhemmed . I sorted further into the rack of garments to see if i could more. There were several more vintage tops that belonged to my mom. One was particularly beautiful and i became immediately attached to it. I pulled out my cell phone to call my dad and  ask him if i could have it. I didn't have reception in there so i had to leave the closet to get a signal. As soon as i started to venture i failed to recognise my surroundings. I began to doubt that would be able to find my way back to my dads closet. Still trying to make the call i started up a hill. I was on the outskirts now. It was night and quite cool fresh and wet out. The mist was hanging in the grass. I was walking up a dirt path. Atlast i was able to place the call. My Fathers voice at the other end answered by saying .. "It was my birthday"... and repeated..." you missed my birthday" and again and again... thats all he was saying. It was hard to squeeze in the query about my mothers garments. I don't know why i was trying. My Fathers voice again shaping the words "my birthday". Suddenly a large white Jack Rabbit came into the view of my left eye. The rabbit crossed my path and found itself in a shaft of light that stopped it in its tracks.  Just as the It came to a standstill... Its rear end split open , a big gash,  and all of its entrails came spilling out like a mystery blend of meats and maggots being churned out of a meat grinder ... and then its urine...and then its blood. The poor rabbit looked so sad... so exposed....defiled...abandoned... alone... and confused... not to mention in pain. His fur was stained pink from the blood infused urine. My eyes fixed on the rabbit. I dropped my phone as my heart sank and  my fathers voice echoed  "my birthday... my birthday..................................................................................."


  1. That sounds absolutely distressing. Thanks for sharing your dreams. I, like you, dream exquisitely vivid dreams, disturbing sometimes, scary other times, beautiful at other times and I love it. Even the ones which are distressing to me are interesting and worth dreaming.

  2. often the "persistent & repetitive" style phone call is interpreted as conversation with self not with the apparent caller