A great show is taking place in a walled garden in the town where I used to live (80 miles from the sea, 130 miles from where I live now). Many actors are taking part (not real actors, but ordinary people who are extrovert and good company with fun ideas and a sense of humour), many people too are in the somewhat chaotic audience, all involved or engrossed in one way or another. When I respond to the actors, the audience turn their gaze upon me and appreciate and applaud my contribution. This happens several times (though only to me), although I am near the back beside a more open, less crowded area away from the limelight and goings on - yet well involved even from the distance.

The show breaks for lunch. It has been a fine and enjoyable morning. The show was amusing and exciting, with not many dull bits. I like the actors and other participants, as well as the audience. Now we trickle out from the walled area and into the street and wander off to other places. I somehow end up at a big elegant old building set in extensive gardens, and find myself in a large high room with several people standing or drifting about. There are one or two tables and a few sofas and chairs, all in loads of space. I spread out on a sofa and go to sleep. Next I’m awoken by one of the other people in the room to inform me that it’s already14.30 and that the show will have started. The afternoon session was scheduled to begin at 14.00.

I struggle to wake up fully and get on my way and out to the show. But as I walk into the streets and around I discover that some event has prevented the commencement of the show. I’m pleased about this because it means I haven’t missed anything. I then find that although I’m on foot there’s a traffic hold-up and curiously it's nighttime; someone’s tigers have got loose and are on the road. They look scary in the street-lights but in fact are docile and soon are resting on a patch of grass at the raodside, licking themselves and ignoring the people and cars.

Now I’m entering another big high room from a wide open entrance with a drop of several feet (like the loading bay at some theatres). I leap down with ease and join the many people in there who are the same as were actors at the show. A few acknowledge me as they gather on a big raised circular platform in the centre of the room. A few other people are milling about. Then the performers engage in sex games – and occasionally beckon others to join them. The games are more intense towards the centre of the raised area where they are less easy to see. I’m happy to remain at floor level gazing mostly outwards. I merely wait indifferently for them to finish and move on to the venue where they can begin the afternoon’s show. Next I’m wandering out and suddenly find myself on the seafront at the St Leonards end of Bottle Alley.

The day is tranquil and pleasant, the sea calm, a few people are walking along or resting like me, on the lower promenade just up from the beach. Soon, I notice a thin layer of white foam moving in from the west diagonally along the edge of the sea and onto the promenade. I think nothing of it. It’s only foam, after all. But when it gets to me I move away towards the back of the lower promenade. Then the foam begins to build-up and thicken, and engulfs my legs. I make an effort to climb to the upper promenade, but find to my surprise that I don’t have enough energy to hoist myself clear of the foam. Many other people have been swamped by it, while a few had the sense to get clear before it reached them, but only a few. I had considered it, but thought the foam harmless. Now I can’t get away from it. Not that it’s anything other than ordinary foam, but try as I do I just don’t have the strength to move high enough before the foam is almost covering me. Then I wake-up – the dream is over.  

All is symbolic, I know, but what does it mean? What is the dream telling me?




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