Active Imagination Sequence
Wednesday, 09-12-2006
Starting from Nothing
There’s a small greyish blueish greenish dot. In the middle of a field of black. As I watch, it is resolving and spreading. It is something like a fade out of black into a scene.
I’m in a field.
Off in the distance are mountains. They are sagebrush mountains. Bald tops, lots of ground exposed. Green, sagey browny looking. The field itself is — it’s not wheat, but it is a tall, very tall grass. It looks like its cultivated, but I don’t see anything in any direction.
The grass is slightly over waist high, so it brushes the mid of my torso just under my breasts.
The sky is clear… blue… looking around but I don’t see the sun.
I’m turning in every direction, looking for something in the distance. The mountains are now behind me… looking across the field, there is nothing but this grass as far as I can see. It is … it feels like early summer, not hot, but warm.
There is no wind. The grass only rustles slightly. I decide to walk toward the mountains. Moving through the grass, very pleasantly soft, natural, organic experience. I’m barefoot. Ground is soft under my feet. Mountains aren’t that far into the distance. So I’m walking.
Letting my hands move out and touch the grass as I walk through it. I feel something tickle my left hand. Looking down, I see that I’ve picked up a ladybug from one of the blades of grass. So I stop to look at the ladybuy. It is very slowly walking down the outside of my left index finger toward my thumb. Every few steps, it stops and shakes its wings. It is very, very bright red, almost orange. The black dots really stand out.
I watch it for a while, and it’s not doing anything, not talking or anything like that, so I reach down and gently place it on a blade of grass and it turns in another direction, walking away… and I continue my walk.
I’m still walking thorugh the grass. Very comfortable, looking around, not seeing much other than grass and mountains… but the mountains are very close now. I’ve only been walking a short while, but it feels as if I’ve covered a large distance.
I look behind me, and there’s a very small swath where I’ve been walking and I can see that yes, I have covered a good distance. I turn around and continue walking. Eventually, I come to the edge of the field. At the edge of the field, there is a slight dip, like a gully that’s been placed. And then, a couple of feet ahead, there’s a road. It runs left and right in front of me. No sun, so I can’t tell if it’s North/South or East/West. It’s not a highway, just a paved road.
On the other side is another gully and then, open sagebrush and ground. There is, across the road and to the left, a mailbox. And there’s a small path, turnoff, just beyond that mailbox that leads off into the distance into the direction of the mountains.
I stop to look at the mailbox. It is very old, metal, very beatup. Some kids have been playing ‘highway baseball’ and have dinged it up really good. The flag is lowered, but it’s also broken, so it hangs off at a weird angle.
It is mounted on a large piece of wood that is supported by yet another piece of wood and it has the look like this has been done a few times… there are some cracks in the post where it looks like someone has hit it as they come down the highway. Likely those same kids.
There are numbers and a street name on the box, but I can’t make them out. I know that’s what they are, but I cannot seem to actually read them. So I don’t waste any more time trying… I think to open the box and look inside and sure enough, there’s mail inside.
I figure, since I’m going in that direction anyway, I’ll take the mail to whomever lives here.
So I grab the mail and fold it, and hold it as I walk down the gravel road. Smooth dirt road for all there is gravel. Well maintained. No potholes or dips. Tire tracks. A car has recently come this way.
I continue walking and off in the distance I see a farm.
It is …can’t tell if it’s dairy, livestock, or what. It has fencing in the old ‘post’ style… hand-made, obviously from wood gathered in the area. Irregular, but well put together… strong… sturdy. And there’s a gate.
I come to the gate. it is unlocked, but closed. I open it, walk through, turn, close it and continue toward the house.
There is a large oak tree on my left. Very pretty. Well maintained. Very green. Just beyond it is the house itself. The front of the house faces my right… across the dirt road. Across the road from the house is a barn, and directly before me along the road is what looks like a large garage.
There is a well on my right, before the barn. An old bucket on a rope sitting on the ground beside it. A large, wooden turn handle for raising and lowering the bucket. The base of the well is made of hand placed stone and mortar. Very organic. I go to the well, look down, and I can see water… and I can see that it is clear… which is interesting.
I look over to the house, it has a large porch on the front from side to side, with steps in the middle. On the door itself are two ducks facing each other — a wooden plaque. I guess the name of the family… but I can’t make it out. I know it’s letters… and I assume that is the name of who lives there, but I can’t read it.
There is a large dog sleeping on the ground by the stairs. He’s now waking and looking at me, but lazily… he’s comfortable and perceives no threat, so he’s not moving. Looking at the barn, there are two hitching posts out front, otherwise very tradition, red and white and white X’s on the doors… dutch doors… open top or bottom. Well clean and well maintained.
The entire area is very clean, manicured, well maintained. There is an area of grass that surrounds the oak tree. It is very alive and green, well trimmed, manicured. On the porch of the house there are wandering vine type plants that are hanging in baskets at strategic points, very aesthetic, very colorful. There are several rocking chairs, divided between each side of the porch. There is a swing, porch swing, on the left side at the end, attached to the beams by chains.
A very neat looking, well kept, country house.
I’m standing in front of the house. I figure if anyone’s home, changes are they’re in the house as opposed to anywhere else… so I start up the steps to knock on the door. As I do, I hear someone calling from the direction of the garage, “Excuse me, Miss?”
I turn and look and he’s dressed in overalls, has on a baseball cap, he’s probably in his late 30’s… not handsome, but not ugly. He has his hands over the bill of his cap, as if he’s shading his view from the sun, which is interesting because I still haven’t figured out where the sun is… but obviously either sees it or is affected by it.
I turn and come off the porch, “Yeah, I was heading toward the mountains, and noticed you had mail… thought I’d bring it to you.” Walk across the yard to where he is, reach out and hand him the mail.
He takes it, nods, smiles, “Thank ya so much. Ya wanna come in and have a drink?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking me to come have water, lemonaide, tea… or alcohol.
He doesn’t give anything away. I can’t tell by his expression of his voice… so I assume that it’s a friendly drink, not alcohol… and I say, “I guess a glass of something would be nice before I continue…” He says, “Sure…” But instead of leading me to the house, he turns and walks back into the garage.
So I follow…
We get into the garage and it’s a large garage. There is room for about ten cars… there actually are stalls built into the place. They are large stalls. I’m looking in the stalls and there are all manner of vintage cars.
There’s an old Model A, a roadster, a sedan, a sportscar of some manner, all of which have been restored fully. They are in pristine condition. Shiny. Well, well tended. The farmer — I guess he’s a farmer — he doesn’t look like my farmer, though. The farmer is watching me look at the cars.
I ask him where he got them all. He said, ‘Every single one of ’em I got outuf the junkyard.’
I said, ‘Really.’
He said, ‘Yup. Ever last one of ’em, when I got ’em, wasn’t much to look at, some of ’em were in really bad shape. Rust. Neglect. Lot of ’em had just been abandoned,” He says.
I ask, “So you rebuilt them from the ground up?” He says, “Yup. I had to be really careful with ’em. And… spen’ a lot of time lookin’ fer parts.” I laugh, “Yeah… I bet you did.”
He says, “You be surprised. Some of those parts are real hard ta find.” I say, “No, I don’t think I’d be surprised. They’re all very old cars.” He says, “Well, thank ya for bringin the mail. If ya want, I’ll give ya a tour of the place a’fore ya get back on the road.”
I said, “Ok.” So we leave the garage and he asks, “Ya wanna look at the barn?” I say, “Well… a barn… it’s a barn. Pretty sturdy barn. What’s inside?” He says, “Oh… nothing anymore.” I chuckle, “Ok, what used to be inside?” He replies, “Horses.” I say, “Oh. You raise horses?” He says, “No, used ta board ’em.” I say, “Oh… nah, I don’t need to see the barn.”
He says, “Alrighty…” and starts heading towards the house. I ask, “This is your house?” He says, “Yup.” I ask, “You live here alone?” He says, “Yup.”
I look around. “Where’s the dog?” He says, “Ah, I reckon he’s off huntin’ somewhere.” We go up the stairs and I look at the ducks on the door, still can’t read what it says and I’m not wiling to ask. But I see out of the corner of my eye that he’s watching me and he looks like he knows I can’t read it.
It’s a very sly look. I’m surprised. So I decide to ask him after all, “What’s that writing on the door say?”
He says, “It’s m’name.” I say, “Really.” He says, “Um-hmm.” I say, “I can’t seem to make it out.” He looks at me and goes, “Ya don’t read English?” I said, “Of course I read English, but I can’t see it very well… it’s old.”
He says, “Yup. It’s old.” And doesn’t say anything else. So I’m puzzled. And mildly amused.
So he starts to go in the door and I stop there on the porch and ask, “You’re not going to tell me your name?” He stops and turns around and looks at me, and he says, “You already know m’name.”
I say, “I’m sorry… I’ve never met you before.” He says, “Girl, you been coming here for years.”
And now I’m confused….because I know I’ve never been here before… I don’t recognize any of these things and I certainly don’t recognize him. I look at him and I’m starting to get a little angry because he’s telling me something that I know is not true.
I say, “I’m sorry, sir… I’ve never been here before, I’ve never met you, and for all that you say that’s English, I can’t read what that says on the door.”
He says, “Well…” Looks at the ground for a moment, then looks back up at me and says, “I’m sorry then… I must have you confused with someone else.” I nod, “It’s ok.”
He looks at his watch and says, “Well, It’s time for me to get going anyway… I’ve got to cook me some supper. Mebbe I can give ya a tour here another time.”
I say, “Ok… thank you so much for your time. Have a good day.” He nods, closes the door.
I turn around, walk down the steps, back out to the road, to where the grasses are… I’m looking around to orient myself so I can continue my walk to the mountains. But somehow the area of the farm has expanded since I got there.
Now, there’s a lot more distance between the farm and the mountains. Ok… so I walk all the way out to the fenceposts and take a raft to cut down the length of the farmland so that I can take another left and continue on to the mountain.
And this fence goes for miles now. I don’t understand how this place has gotten as big as it has. When I got here, the barn that is across the way from the house was set up against the fencepost — so it was kind of a little, square area.
Now… there’s this HUGE section of just… all kind of stuff… that begins behind the barn and extends for what appears to be miles. The first little bit of it that I’m looking at is a… riding circle, and what looks to be like a grazing area… and beyond that is a set of tracks.
This guy… this guy didn’t just board horses! He trained horses. He rode horses. Looks like he might have even raced horses. There is a ring with barrels in it for Racking Horses… there’s a … what looks like a regulation track… for olympic type events for horses. I forget what it’s called.
Beyond that, there’s just this huge, open pasture that’s fenced. It looks like its divided up into three sections. I recognize that. There’s a section for foals… a section for studs… a section for mares, and there’s a gate that goes through each so you can run them down the chutes that are like little alleys along the sides… to herd them from one area to another. For breeding and whatnot.
So this guy was really active with horses. I don’t know why I got the impression he just boarded them.
I finally reach the end of the fence, turn left, back toward the mountains and continue walking now… the grasses are still everywhere, but at least now I understand why he has all this grass… he was feeding the horses, apparently. Probably baling and selling it now that he doesn’t have horses anymore.
I continue walking toward the mountains. But I don’t really know why I’m going there now. I may just continue this journey another time. I decide to sit down in the grasses. Actually lay down in the grasses and just look up into the sky.
It’s become a little overcast… so it’s no longer pure, clear, blue… and I’m watching pictures in the clouds. But I’ll describe those another time, I reckon.