Surrounded by all the familiar faces and places that I came to love in the eight months I spent there. Except, dreams are dreams because of their oddity. Distortion of reality that you do not recognize until you are awake. The VSO, who had returned to Canada, had never actually got on the plane. Rather, she had stayed in Guyana and painted her face as a mime and her arms were painted black. Even in the dream I could not quite understand her strange appearance. Friends who have not spoken to me since I left were casually greeting me and admiring my new tattoos. Throughout the dream I was basking in the sun. How warm. How sweet to feel the warmth of the world again.
Then the dream turned nightmarish. I walked up a hill to find two more volunteers. On the hill there were penguins. “Penguins!” I exclaimed. Only to have them transform to vultures and begin to attack me. “Luckily I covered my eyes first,” I thought, as I ran from the vicious beak that had hooked onto my face. My friend reprimanded my fear of the vulture-penguins and simply shooed them away from me. I felt foolish for being so afraid of them.
In the dream I knew I had only a day or two to reunite with the friends that I left so suddenly two months ago. For some reason, there was no rush or anxiety. Just a serene feeling of belonging and purpose. “I could just stay,” I kept persuading myself, “I don’t have to leave again.” The dream has interesting timing too. Today is the day I was supposed to be coming home. I was going to get on a flight to come home for Christmas for two weeks. Instead, I am dreaming of what life would be like to visit Guyana. Guess it is time to finish reading Fraud’s psychology of dreams.
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