LAURA ATKINSON

 

 

 

 

 

 


GUITARS ON THE DUNES
(A dream within a dream)
It's late in the summer, and I am sitting on a large wool blanket in the dunes. I am staring out to the horizon, watching the sun go down against the ocean, and the sky turning into a mixture of colors. The sky turns to brilliant hues of pink, orange and purple. It is low tide, and there is a distinct sandbar that is still visible. I begin to hear the sounds of someone on the other side of the dune- practicing guitar. The melodies begin to hypnotize me as if this person was playing a lullaby. I hear the combination of the melody, and the gentle rhythm of the waves lapping against the shoreline.

I wrap the wool blanket around my shoulders and fall asleep on the sand, wishing I knew how to play guitar. I drift off to sleep and begin to dream about writing a book with a quill pen and intricate, wooden craft stamps. My sister who has tapped me on the shoulder awakens me. I can only see her silhouette because of the position of the sunset. I turn my head around to the dunes to try to find the person who was playing the guitar, but there is no one to be found. She begins to laugh with a knowing look on her face, possibly because I fell asleep on the beach, or else she knew who the guitar player was. She extends her hand to me to help me off the sand, and tells me "It's time to come home."
 

 

GUMDROPS FROM THE SKY
(The actual dream behind the "Gumdrops from the Sky" image occurred during Harry Bosma's first session of the More Lucid Dreaming project in 2003.  The importance of capturing the exact imagery of the dreamscape became so important to me, that the final image appeared a year after the actual dream itself.  It evolved in stages starting from a simple second sketch and text in my dream journal, to an oil pastel sketch, to a final hour digital photomontage. 

This is what I saw when I closed my eyes that night.)

Step One: Text Journal and Sketch
...I was in a bookstore. A woman was helping me choose new books. I identify this woman as my neighborhood friend L. The beginning of our conversation was very normal and realistic until I remember that she passed away several years ago.  In my dream, I choose this opportunity to have a conversation with her...  

Step Two: Oil Pastel in Sketchbook
•Laura: “I was so mad that you left us so early in your life.”

•L: “Yes, I was too.”

•Laura: “Are you okay now? What it is like up there?”

•L: “Laura, it is like a giant salad. A place where everything is green and healthy. You can even pick gumdrops from the sky if you want. No one is alone. People are reunited with everyone they ever loved.” 
 

I give her a hug, and while we are hugging I say this: "I was so mad that you left us. I couldn't believe it when I read it on the announcement board. I thought it was a typo, I thought it was someone other than you." 
 
•L: "So was I, but look at me now."

The lucidity of this dream is almost overwhelming.  I wake up breathing deeply with tears in my eyes.   

Final: Photomontage

 

KEYS TO A FANTASY WORLD


A very simple dream. I am outfitted in some type of futuristic flight suit.  I swoop down to a person who hands me large key-ring with hundreds of old fashioned metal keys on it.  I bounce off the ground like a trampoline, taking flight back towards the moon.  I feel the mist of the clouds then the sky turns black.  I am alarmed that there aren't stars in this sky.  I stop on the moon and the key ring dissolves, scattering the actual keys.  They are floating in slow motion before my hands as I try to grasp them one at a time.  Some of them defy gravity and fall into the powdery surface of the moon.  I am left holding one key, which I must keep secret because it is the key to unlock a faraway world.

 

CERTAIN BONDS


This dream was like a black and white movie that played out in my mind.  I dreamed of "R," a man who never gave me much information about his childhood and past. He claimed I would never really understand him, until I dreamt of the story of his life.  The dream was hyper-vivid, and upon waking it became obviously clear to me why he never wished to discuss his life in great detail.  Our paths started parting dramatically, but I did have the opportunity to ask if this dream made any sense to him, he validated every stanza of the dream with awe: "How could you know this!?"  

Our paths have finished crossing.  
The words were said
The ribbons were cut
A book from 1974 appeared at my door
with bookmarks to your past
knocking the breath from my lungs

Still dreamscapes abound
Relentless symbols of unfinished business
Vignettes of black leather luggage
sitting outside your hotel room door

Fabric placed over my eyes,
And you led the blind
while shaking and shouting
"Do you really want to see how I lived?"

And I lived as you did.
And sensed chaotic misery.
And fell from a limb of a tree.
And put ice on my face
where it was struck.
And I fell in the snow.
And played guitar in a dirty subway station
for spare change.
And heard the doors slam.
And comforted mother.
And defended brother.
And struggled to find the difference between
Applause and applesauce.

And I was awakened
knowing that your life was encircled
by people with smiling eyes
and razorblade handshakes

A maddening gift of
perfect nighttime vision despite
the wool being pulled over my eyes.
And that strange sinking feeling
of intuitive radar right before
your car crosses my path.

The words were said
The ribbons were cut
Perhaps just speaking it so
does not break certain bonds.

 

 

WHEN THE SOUND GOES OUT


I’ve become aware of the moment in the process of falling asleep where I am aware of when my body goes still and my ears stop hearing external noises.  I call this the phase:  “When The Sound Goes Out”.  This dream happened on a night where I remembered the moment when I could no longer hear external noise. 

Dream:  I went spinning into a dream that began on a carousel at a fair.  It’s a warm summer evening in Marshfield, the town where I grew up.  It was always the symbolic sign indicating the end of summer once their town fair arrived.  I decide not to sit on one of the carousel horses, rather I choose to remain standing up, and holding on to one of the metal poles. The ride seemed to begin spinning wildly, but not dangerously. The lights begin to flash and blur and the music is swirling in colors all around us, very 80s hair-band/ heavy-metal music. I become aware that I am not alone on the ride. My friend and I were taking turns grasping for the brass ring. He holds me as I bend over backwards reaching for the prize, and as I do, he begins kissing my abdomen. This tickles and I laugh, forgetting that the goal is to reach for the ring.  We repeatedly spin around and around and it becomes a fun, repetitive, pseudo-sexual game of me grasping and bending backwards as he tickles, kisses and otherwise distracts me. I wake up in a generally happy mood for such an early morning because of what felt like a very fun, playful dream.

 
Afterward:  I realize now that the carousel was highly symbolic of our relationship. would continually be reaching for the shiny brass token (of affection and emotion) only to be held back, distracted, or dizzied by one thing or another---and never really winning the prize at the end of the ride.

 

TO TOUCH WITHOUT TOUCHING


I am looking through a crystal prism at my hands.  I press my hands up against an invisible but flexible film, where I can sense someone else doing the same thing from the other side.  Our hands are so close, but they do not touch.  The heat and the energy coming from one another's fingertips can be noticed.  We try to break through the film, unsuccessfully reaching out several times to physically touch each others hands.  I see the face of the person on the other side of the film, and we sadly smile at each other, knowing that we will only be able “to touch without touching”.  
 

Ms. Atkinson also creates images  to compliment the the various presentations of the IASD Psiberdreaming Conferences and has posted some of these images in a gallery on her website, Art That Glows.
BACK TO THE 2005 INDEX