REFLECTIVE MOMENTS
Life under the city, a topic for investigation
It has been my experience that certain drugs have an odd result on my dreaming moments, perhaps indicating I’m an easy mark for suggestive mind activity. Three years ago after surgeries, my dreams put me in contact with terrorists who I could clearly see but whose presence I could not successfully point out to others.
Two years ago the drugs given for back pain relief were much more fun, taking me to the rodeos, allowing me to sing rodeo songs and even making me think I were incarcerated in a Swift Current health facility.
There was much laughter as I relayed my drug-induced nightmarish moments, moments that were so real as to convince me that they actually happened.
Since then the most radical drug in my system has been an occasional Tylenol, a day-time-night-time Buckley’s tablet that tastes better than the syrup but maybe isn’t as effective. Therefore I was astounded at the substance of the vivid dreams I was having during a recent illness. Perhaps the power of suggestion went to bed with me. With all the talk about the water main breaks, replacement of old sewer pipes and the knowledge of the city’s underground tunnels, it could be expected that those topics would someday show up in my nocturnal travels.
It was therefore startling to learn, via my dreams, of just how extensively Moose Jaw’s underground community has developed. There are whole subdivisions down there, out of the sunlight and away from prying eyes. Think shanty towns of the 20s and 30s and move them below the surface and that’s what I saw. Families live down there, growing vegetables and chickens. A series of solar panels provides the power source although that’s puzzling because of the lack of sun. But I know what I saw. These folks from the other side of the pavement seem to be happy, even while looking a bit grubby — much like the characters in the play, My Fair Lady. Why would I conjure such a dream, and then re-dream it in subsequent moments that are recalled so vividly? No drugs this time, but maybe the adult fevers could be blamed. At any rate, my curiosity has been poked. It might be worth a city council tour down the manholes to see if indeed there is life down there, life that is perhaps being disturbed by all the sewer and water maintenance work that will benefit the folks living above ground. Some lively debates could follow. Maybe there’s a garbage pickup solution down there.
The other dream of this illness period is even more curious. Someone has left an infant in a carrier at our house. This youngster doesn’t cry, eat or require diaper changes. She is bald and just sits there smiling and waving her arms.
I don’t think Housemate has noticed her so she must simply be the result of the power of suggestion: the happiness of a child wearing Pampers, a TV commercial viewed just before bed the other night. Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@ sasktel.net