The Dust dream

I had a dream last night that I still haven’t gotten out of. 

I was walking along a road and the world was a dust storm. People were walking along to some destination but I couldn’t tell you where that was. The dust was peculiar, a fluffy white like ash, but sterile like snow. There was so much of it that nothing could be seen. The distance was obscured in dust clouds. I could see about one hundred yards. No one was desperate, but we were all migrating, alone or in small groups. There were trucks that went along the road, following tracks. The only color was the skin of others and the black lines of pavement.

I watched as we moved along. I didn’t have an urgency to where I was going. Some people were camped or resting on the side of the road, all their belongings covered white in indistinct lumps. Some of these lumps were in the road itself between the tracks and every once in a while a truck would pass and the lump would be disturbed. A person would sit up out of it with their arms outspread like they had just performed some ritual, passed a test.

I watched everyone and never spoke. I wore a white tank top and shorts, carried a backpack. Eventually a decision had to be made. The road ended at an intersection with a single general store. Most of the supplies were gone. My backpack held two large containers of liquid: one water, one artificial juice in a yellow-orange color. I bought another plastic container of water.

At some point the dream broke, and I fell back in it to the store again. I hadn’t taken the water I had bought and was retracing my steps to get it. It was the last one the store had. As I found it, I took is from under the hands of an elderly woman. As I exited, I saw that no one was talking to anyone or paying attention to anything. I saw a box of plastic half lawn chairs with a small rainbow umbrella. I took the umbrella and put it in my bag.

I was continuing maybe east, maybe west in an open corridor. The ash was till everywhere and it was crowded. It had the feeling of an open air market where many people had decided they traveled enough and were settling into where they were. I began to weave through the piles of their belongings. No on was paying attention to me and I still spoke to no one.

The dream broke again and now I was returning. I had been somewhere, but I couldn’t tell you where. I was weaving through the same corridor, but now in the opposite direction. This market was now truely a market. Goods of all kinds were being sold in quiet whispers. The dust was not gone, but brushed into the corners and shoveled to the sides. The stalls were clean and walkways appeared to be stone.

People looked at me, curious about me. Occasionally someone would take me by the arms and stare at my face closely. They didn’t speak. I still did not either. They let me go time and again, questions in their face went unasked. Finally, someone who practiced healing drew me aside and asked me questions, but I didn’t understand them and don’t remember the sounds. They held my face and looked close at it.

When he released me, I found a mirror. I had two inverted V lines across the bridge of my nose. They looked like thin veins under my skin. Then there was another pair of lines, but they were tiny lines, carved in my skin and still healing. There were circles a few millimeters in diameter. One under each eye with a line connecting them, following the curve of my face. There was a second set of circles on my eyelids, again with lines connecting them. They didn’t hurt. But they meant something and I don’t know how I got them.

An older Asian women took me in hand then. She led me farther through the bazzar. At one point we came to an island stall where a merchant was selling metals objects. I looked at them without understanding what they were. She stopped and looked at them in earnest just as a group of older asian men were passing by. I could see that she was trying to get their attention. She had a little, metal box attached to her belt that brought up to shine in the light and shake. I could hear the ting of metal inside, and when the flash passed I could see that they were spoons inside.

Thorough this exchange, I got the feeling that she was responsible for attracting a caretaker for me. She was trying to get one of these gentlemen to notice me. All I ever felt was this vague intention. I had no interest in what happened to be. I was observing my experiences from a quiet place. I still spoke to no one.

Then dream broke for good.