Orientation to the Series

This Web series requires clarification. Being a vivid dreamer, all my life, it’s an opportunity to recount stories from my dreams. Always a vivid dreamer, it’s as if travelling the world whilst asleep, is my destiny. Vivid dreams, almost complete tales, occur when sleeping. Recounting them could be interesting, not only to expunge them from my mind, but also for anecdotes from the realm of my slumber. My nighttime imaginings seem real to me. These are my dreams.

Nightmare in Tehran

Image by Hamed Saber via Flickr

Last night, in my dream, I found myself in Iran. How could I know that I was in this nation? It is as if I instinctively knew. I seemed I had been summoned for some reason. Then I met a lady. She was tall, with a shaved head – she looked similar to Grace Jones but she was Iranian. “I’m lesbian,” she told me, “I want to worship in the mosque.” She beckoned me to the mosque and together we entered.

The Mufti and his Guard

Image via Wikipedia

All around me the vast interior of the mosque unfolded. I knew it to be a place of worship, as it reminded me of incredible pictures of mosques I see often on TV, in documentaries. I approached the Mufti – again instinctively knew he was important – he had the customary beard and outfit of the head of a Mosque. “Why don’t you let her worship here?” I asked him.

He turned to his Koran, nervously flipping its’ pages. He seemed to be searching for the answer. He wanted to justify the fact this lady could not come in and worship. He seemed lost for an answer.

Suddenly, a tough-looking woman, in the Muslim headscarf, accosted me. “Be off!” she commanded. “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!” I began yelling at her and the Mufti. Next they pushed me into a strange room. “Go there! Be silent! Obey!” they bellowed.

I looked around. The room was full of a dozen men dressed in some religious garb. They started threatening me. In the middle of the room was a table; it seemed a torture table or something with a terrifying presence. “Why don’t you let her (the first lady who looked like Grace Jones) worship?” I pleaded.

Image via Wikipedia

Awakening in a Sweat

With this I instantly woke up. I was covered in sweat; terrified, as I roused to the safety of my studio, in Sydney. I sat up, got up and went to the kitchen. I grabbed a smoke, with the events of the nightmare, sharp in my mind. I had to fix myself a cuppa to calm down.

Being an insomniac, a nice cup of tea and a cigarette, always cures it. As I sat on the verandah all I could think was how thankful I am to be living in a liberal democracy. That nightmare showed me, “the home truth,” that Iran is indubitably a terrifying religious dictatorship.

Conclusion

Whether you concur that dreams are an alternative reality or that dreams are just the mind, “Working things out,” dreams for me have been a rich source of stories in my experience. Hopefully, you can come with me on this journey, suspend your disbelief and travel across the world. This is a world from the territory of my sleep.
Dream Journeys

Image via Wikipedia

Outworlders Return