Introduction

Resolution, flight and the dead. Journeys in dreams show all these and much more. Yet another friend, who had passed away several years ago, returned in a queer dream to reassure. So clear was this nighttimes’ imagining that today I feel forced to tell. It was a journey not far from here, in this very neighbourhood. This great friend of mine, gripped by insanity, had passed away without my knowledge. In a dream he came back to comfort me and tell me he was dead. This – “Salt of the Earth,” a gallant of Sydney – was able to impress upon me that the, “afterlife,” was just fine.

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Woolloomooloo Sinsemilia

This dream happened three years past. As I lay asleep, I found I was just down the road in Woolloomooloo. Woolloomooloo is next to the City of Sydney. There I found myself in a plain and bare-walled room. The only furniture was a simple table with two chairs. It was well lit.

My cousin and her partner were also present as observers. They were sitting silently watching. “How very curious, indeed!” I marvelled at the sheer simplicity of it all. How I knew it was in Woolloomooloo is a matter that belongs only to the dream. You somehow just know. On the table was a bong. Next to the bong, was the best sinsemilia, in a simple bowl.

Instantly, the door opened and in walked a tall young man dressed impeccably in a Prada denim jacket, the latest most expensive jeans and fabulous boots. The young dandy, in the latest gear, had no face. His dais was a glowing and shining orb. Yet, emanating from him was the friendliest energy. The dream seemed to shield his identity from me, as I marvelled in awe, at this man without a face.

He sat down opposite me, packed the bong and gave it to me. I took it and smoked it. Why it was the most pure, wonderful smoke I’ve ever had! We started to laugh, talk and, “Catch up.” It was just like old times.

Up the Hill

Wikipedia

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After I had shared this magical, amiable and wonderful moment with the dashing gallant with the glowing face we together were instantly in Elizabeth Bay, another local haunt. It’s a leafy area where Alexander had lived when he walked. Together we continued to chat, catching up on old times as we strolled. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a large, black limousine pulled up beside us on the kerb. Then Alexander bid farewell, got into the car and was gone. Sadness overcame me as I felt our meeting was cut short.

My cousin and her partner had followed us up the hill, silent witnesses to this friendly exchange.

Conclusion

This dream journey was loaded with questions. Many days later I racked my mind. “It must have been Alexander!” I thought to myself as I walked these troubled and legendary avenues, “The style, the feeling and the friendly gallantry. It could have been no-one else!”

I just knew he has passed on because the last time we met he had gone utterly mad, looked deathly ill and was barely recognisable as the great man he was. This dream seemed to show me he was gone.

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Dream Journeys

Outworlders Return

Nightmare in Iran

The French Magus

Teaching People to Fly

Meeting Princess Diana

A Journey with my Dead Grandma

Thank-you for journeying with me through my dreams. Stay tuned for the next riveting episode from James DeVere, Sydney’s first Web author.

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