"francoise", if in Paris...

It is very unusual for me to remember a dream I have had, in full detail or in any meaningful order.  Most dreaming comes back to me as series of random flashing images that do not make any sense or provide any revelation.  But I remember this dream from last night:  I had been away travelling hundreds of miles from my home in Canada.  Likely in the U.S.  There were many people around me who were also travellers but from different regions of the continent.  I seemed to be having quite an adventure.  I remember being dressed as though I had been hiking for weeks.  I had a backpack, very worn hiking boots and aching muscles.  I remember sitting on my packback on a trail in a very pretty wooded area. We were all sitting talking about our explorations.  Then one by one there appeared a series of visitors that I believe represented various travel companies.  Each person brought in a very large package…box, and placed one in front of each of us who were travelling.  The packages were airplane kits, and were provided to each of us so that we could build our airplane to fly back home.  We chatted with excitement about this curious project ahead of us. We all sat together that night in front of a roaring campfire and had dinner and laughed and enjoyed the company.  We were thrilled with the anticipation of building our planes and flying ourselves home the following morning. 

Later, when I tried to settle to sleep in my tent, I did so with a feeling of foreboding.  I stared at the large box which I knew contained my airplane kit.  I began to feel anxious and even somewhat sad but I chalked it up to the mixed feelings of wanting to go home and and not wanting my adventure to end. 

The next morning I awoke to find most of my fellow travellers had already packed and were close to completing the construction of their own aircraft.  I raced to open my box and I lay out all my parts but I had no idea where to begin.  I frantically grabbed for the instructions.  I began to piece together what I thought made sense.  Meanwhile, one by one the others were lining up their aircraft on a dirt airstrip off in the distance.  I suddenly realized that I was not going to be able to construct this thing…I just did not have the ability. I felt the sinking feeling.  I felt inadequate and ashamed that I couldn’t reach into myself and pull some knowledge or skill out to help myself.   I asked for help from the others but was only met with encouragement that I would eventually figure it out. I finally admitted to myself that even if I had the ability to build the thing, I would not have the courage to fly it. As I sat with the parts strewn around me, I watched as airplane after airplane flew away over my head in various directions, like a starburst in the sky.  I was alone.  I began walking, leaving all my belongings and my puzzle plane behind. 

Deep into the night I came upon a small shack on the side of a road.  I single lightbulb illuminated the woman sitting behind a desk.  We never spoke but she sold me a ticket home. I boarded an old bus and woke up. 

I don’t think I have ever had a dream or a reality that made me feel as completely and utterly incompetent as this did. 

photo, Ace Jackalope

thewayoftheworld:

ae:(via verslibre)

georgia.g

venusflytrap:wildfireshy:via dreamland33:sealegslexi » laurencephilomene:gabriel ghost)

culturedscene:

I miss mornings like this.

Every summer and Easter, and sometimes Christmas, we would visit my grandpa’s farm in Florida. I’d wake up (or would be woken up) early and walk through the morning fog listening to the hum of the locusts. The grass was still wet with dew, the morning still young.

I lived outside - either on the beach about an hour away or on the farm. It was just a time to be free.

Summers just aren’t like they used to be.

You’ve just managed to turn my present reality into your beautiful memory.  Thanks for sending it over here. 

Saint-Siméon ,Charlevoix Quebec

Another one of my favourite regions of Quebec. I stayed in this quiet cottage overlooking the St. Lawrence River after I had crossed over from the south shore by ferry. (I’d like to forget how I stumbled into a room on the lower deck and found myself in a room full of fisherman watching porn.)
And forget the whale watching boat tours…those amazing creatures were right outside my door every morning and night.
Charlevoix is an artist’s paradise. It is impossible not to stop on a bluff or a river bank or a seaside church to linger and paint or write…or just pick apples from a tree. And if you love cheese…then you are definitely in the right place.

I wish more Canadians would explore this country. It is so unbelievably beautiful. I’m getting misty-eyed thinking about it as we head into Canada Day tomorrow.

Auberge du Château Bahia

Stumbled on this oddity when I was travelling Gaspesie. A wooden castle/ hostel at Pointe-à-la-Garde, on the south side of the Gaspé Peninsula. It overlooks Bai du Chaleur.  It was a challenge trying to speak French during the communal candlelit dinner. That night I went for a long walk and actually got lost for over two hours in the surrounding forest. I don’t know how I found my way back.   Next morning I had a scrumptous breakfast of wild berry pancakes and maple syrup.  Yum.