Bush – Dreamyoga

Here is this morning’s dream. It is very out-of-the-blue and in terms of compare and contrast, differs markedly.

The dream opens with me wearing a photographer’s utility vest sleeveless jacket in khaki. It has multiple pockets and around my neck is a posh camera with a very large lighter coloured telephoto lens. It is pretty heavy. I am to review thousands of photos of Australia and specifically of wetlands in Queensland and Northern Territory. After I have done this I have an assignment in the Gulf of Carpentaria. The assignment is for photographing mangroves. It will be way outback and bush.

Next I am at an unspecified airport with the wife. I have an upcoming job interview at Ndola university in the Copperbelt of Zambia. I have an open old style return air ticket replete with carbon paper. I am asking the wife if she wants to come along. We need to figure out if the cost is worth it given that I may not get the job. We decide that it will be worth the hundreds of pounds because she can then input into the decision about taking the job and relocating to Zambia. I have been before she not. So we buy her an open ticket too.

Because it is all a bit rushed and last minute she is not sitting with me on the plane. L, a southerly dreamer, is somehow “around” on the plane with us. I need to have my landing documentation filled out so I go to the cockpit to speak with the captain. He is very happy to fill out my form for me. It is getting time for take-off so I leave him to do his pre-flight checks and return to my seat.

Because it is all rushed I have not made a hotel reservation in Ndola nor have I booked a hire car. I wonder what kind of “sheds” they have for hire and what state the main highway North is in. I remember it was not all that great when I was last there over forty years ago. It could prove to be a long drive.

The plane takes off and what seems like a short while later we are beginning our descent into Lusaka. I recognise it. I see a church and a river. {It is not like actual Lusaka.} We are going to land on the highway and will have to walk into the terminal building. The plane taxies. We disembark and I note the particular pungent fecund smell of Africa. As we enter the terminal building there is a staircase going down with a lush brown carpet on. I slide down the carpet on my bum playfully. We are in Africa so I know it will be futile to try to organise and schedule things. It will only result in frustration when that does not work. I must relax and flow, glide, with the chaos.

We go though passport control and my passport has loads of stamps in it. I have travelled widely. {In reality it is pristine new.} We get to immigration and are being cleared by a very smartly dressed black woman. She has an ornate hair-do and long decorative fingernails. She speaks excellent English with a slight Zambian accent. I am happy to be here with some familiar things such as the accent. She objects to my paperwork which the captain has done. There is no exit date. She suggests that we make one up and put it on the form. I show her the invitation to interview at Ndola university. She says to take my/our time to explore. We know we have money in the bank and that given the exchange rate we can wing-it. We make up a date and she writes it in red biro on our immigration clearance forms. Neither of us are happy with this ad-lib way of doing things. Out of the corner of my eye I see an Avis / Hertz car rental booth. The woman says that the guy there has family in all the hotels and will fix us up with a reservation in Ndola. In my mind I think that I have not yet done full preparation for the interview, which is due tomorrow afternoon, nor have I had a confirmation email. The woman sensing this suggests that the interview time is mobile and that they will want to do hospitality things which could be very extensive. They like to welcome people to Zambia. I explain I lived here as a child. She says that the welcome home will therefore be very important. They always like to welcome people back the most. She intimates that in a sense I already have the job lined up.

The wife and I look at each other realising we are now in Africa time and African ways. I know this dream is South of the equator.

The dream ends.

Here is last night’s dream.

The dream starts in the South African bundu or bush. I am driving along a rough dusty unmade road. The road goes up and own and has a yellow-orange bull dust. I am in an open sided Jeep like vehicle of a classical pedigree age. It is four wheel drive and contrasts with an antiseptic modern SUV. I am dressed in faded olive green park ranger type clothes with shorts. I have a pistol in a holster on my right hip, suitable for my left handedness. It is tremendous fun driving along the road / path. We are near a fairly fast flowing deep river like at the Augrabies falls which I visited two decades ago. I can hear a waterfall.

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The sound of the water is loud. The wind is in my hair and I can smell and taste the dry bush all around me.

The scene changes and I am now in the UK. I am in a busy Tesco supermarket. People are queuing. Outside the air is dank and wet. There is a constant hum of urban traffic. In one of the checkout queues I see Richard W whom I know from school and UCL chemistry. He is miles away up in his head. I tap him on the shoulder. At first, he does not recognise me. Then when he does, he is totally surprised to see me. I motion to behind the checkouts and will wait for him there.

When he has checked out, he comes over to see me. Although he looks a lot younger than he would be now, I can see that life is getting him down and he lacks energy. I turn him around and stand behind him. I open up a battery compartment in his back by sliding off a plastic over. I take out the two AA style batteries which are there and replace them with two fresh ones from my pocket. These batteries are similar in colour and design to Duracell. I replace the plastic cover and Richard reboots.

There is a short break for a loo visit.

I return to the dream back into a dank drab UK urban environment. You can hear the noise the cars make on the wet road. I enter a large building which I do not know with some kind of large atrium. It is Imperial College and Chemistry related. The hallway / atrium is being renovated. I bump into various ex-colleagues {sequentially} who were at Imperial two decades ago, all of them now professors. There are more than half a dozen of them both men and women. They are slightly sheepish about meeting me, there is an air of awkwardness or embarrassment. They are unsure as to how to greet me and if to greet or acknowledge me at all. Two males with whom I worked are very noticeable by their absence. The absence speaks volumes. There is a weird feeling that the former colleagues are surprised to see me even though there is a sense for them that I never left.

I walk into some kind of a hallway. There are poster boards up with academic conference style poster presentations on a blue “felt” background. These are all chemistry related. I can see molecules and graphs. Walking past I think some things do not change despite modern technology. A poster is a poster. In the dream I do not know why I am there in that building with them. It seems anomalous to me if not to them.

The dream ends.

Tag: Bush

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South Africa – Richard W – Imperial College Colleagues Dream 29-06-2025