Wednesday, 30 March 2011
L.I.F.E. G.O.E.S. O.N.
This week's IndieInk Challenge comes to me from Jason Avant.
You dream in three colo(u)rs. Name them. And tell your reader why.
I've done a lot of thinking about this prompt and then I realised I didn't need to think at all. I've had some very vivid dreams in my life, recently and long ago. Here are three that each connect to a colour for me. Hope they do the explanation on their own.
I'm all alone and on the coast somewhere. I'm a small child though I feel big and brave. I know, without a doubt, that pirates have stolen my blankie and I'm going to get it back if it kills me! I'm armed with...well...not much, but I have my Nickelodeon shoes on so I can run superfast if I have to. I'm at the entrance to a dusty dark cave and I crawl in, being very quiet so the pirates don't hear me. After scraping my knees and hands on the sharp rocks and finally getting to the deepest parts of the cave, I see a strange blueish light up ahead. Where the cave widens out a bit, I see it! My blankie! And there it is, arranged in a heap at the back of the cave, glowing bright blue with its pattern of sky all across it, the pale white stars and a rainbow. And I see it. And I want it more than anything I've ever wanted to reach in my life. But between me and the blanket are rows and rows and rows of skulls and long human bones. The skulls smile up and me and say to me How are you gonna get your blankie when we're guarding it?
I'm on a boat. Just me and whoever is piloting the boat. And I know I'm headed out to sea for some type of voyage. I'm alone and I can feel it. And the rain starts to drizzle down and I go out on deck and sit under some shelter and watch the horizon. At a soft noise, I turn and see her. My best friend from childhood, my first love. She's walking towards me in a red red dress, a dress so red it's like fresh blood but it's like valentines and strawberries too. She walks to me and we don't speak. The only sound is the slow lapping of waves as the boat moves onward out to sea. I reach up, touch the sleeve of her red dress. And the breeze blows one long strand of her black curly hair across her face. I reach out and touch it, then tuck it behind her ear.
I need to buy a car. For some reason there are no cars for sale in the UK so I go to Afghanistan to buy one. There I meet some surly looking men in tatty turbans, carrying machine guns. They motion to me with their arms, point me in the direction I need to go. After walking across some very brown, sandy terrain, I see a small Ford Fiesta up ahead. It looks like my old car, but worse off: rusted out a bit, missing tyres, window broken, door hanging off. How much for the car? I somehow ask this question without speaking, just gesturing with my arms. One of the men steps forward and gestures back. I reach into my bag and pull out two heavy rocks, rough-edged, the colour of coffee grounds. I heave each one onto the sandy ground between us. 2 rocks, I motion to them. One more, we want one more for the car, they gesture back to me. In my pack I find one more stone, but this one is pure white and I don't want to trade it for the car so I walk away, aware of their machine guns, though they don't point them at me. Aware of the car and that I need a car to get around, however bad of shape it's in.
Here's what I'm listening to today, a little Noah and the Whale