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1503
the Lyra

recently I have been having SO many dreams about dancing on a pole or lyra, and being really really good at it, with lots of flow and strength. I think its a sign I really need to get on it!

I was in the dark at this gathering, that was based around Persian revolution of some kind, only all my caucasian friends were around for the party, too.
There was a man who was kind of a conductor or composer, wearing a suit and on a small podium, directing the music.
The music I dont remember, but I know it was good. Unifying, passionate, with a heavy ebb/flow.
He was like a DJ in the way that he was immersed almost within he audience, but had the power to move all of us.

There was a lyra hanging close to the ground, floating just feet above. I was able to manipulate my body so well within the confines of the hoop, twirling around it, using the ground to lift off above the hoop, and then surrender into a controlled fall of some kind.
Being within the crowd, it was nice not getting too much attention for doing this, and having the space to experiment. I was still learning, so I was practicing certain things I didnt fully have down yet.
I was thinking to myself, if I did this every morning, I would get so strong...

I felt something ever so slightly ominous, like us being watched by another perspective or something. Something not as nice.
The conductor was surrounded by food, "khoresht gheyme" was in front of him (a Persian dish), and offerings from others.

I walked through the crowd and was stopped by Kirsty Smith. My old high school friend who is super rad. Her hair was as long as ever, and I didnt see her that well in the dark otherwise. HEY! I said, we embraced and started to chat. Then our other friend (her other half) Maddison Klein came over and her and I were talking alone. Joking around and such.

At one point I remember a small group of people chanting the common chant, "Marg Bar Amrika, Marg Bar Amrika". (Death to America)

The scene changed and suddenly we were in another area of the night. On a residential street which was quite wide, houses lined on either side, with more lighting from the street lamps.
The conductor had created an epic mutated vehicle, quite huge, symbolized kind of like a dragon or horse. He was wearing a headdress, and driving it all. The whole parade was fueled by this sense of revolution, activism, but the details are hazy to me.
I watched in awe as the little parade was about to take off.
There was a guy, who loooked like Allisons boyfriend maybe (Lucas Belgrove) but without glasses. He had a bike wheel in his hand that was brass and textured and decorated. Kind of like Balinese jewelry work. He was spectating as well, at the few cars and the giant mutated vehicle, the flurry of people conversing.

The parade set off, and everyone was following them down the road. There was a path that headed into more darkness, back in to the more woodsy area we were occupying before. They were getting smaller as they furthered away from us, but suddenly I heard the sound of an engine on my left.
There was an alley separating 2 houses, and that ominous notion returned to me. It was a creature on a large bike, and the light would not touch it or something because all we could see was black against the purple/orange background of the night street.
He slowly followed them, and descended to disappear as well.
I looked at Lucas (?), and both of us seemed a bit inquisitive.....

At one point in the dream, totally irrelevant - I was cooking dinner for a dozen or more people. I was in a small kitchen, making the usuals - coconut curry yam soup, some salad, some quinoa.... I was running behind, I glanced at the clock and it said 8:45. I knew in my head dinner wouldnt be ready for another hour, making it nearly 10 pm, and people were already hungry. I had some anxiety and was moving around quickly. I made something that looked like a chunky chicken stock with some vegetables in it. I dont know what I was intending for it to be but thats what it looked like. A girl was kinda butting in and asking me what it was, and I was suggesting it would be salad dressing. I tasted it, and it tasted like good dressing.

I also remember that I was laying on someone's bed, a lady friend with a towel wrapped round her head. Was it Carolina? She had the same bedsheets, the blue striped ones, and I was mentioning to her how choked I was when ours came in. She seemed ever so slightly offended so I corrected myself. It was chill.

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