November 14, 2010 § 2 Comments
Tonight I had a new dream in which more foxes appeared. These foxes weren’t red, their fur was darker. Their backs were dark brown, almost black. I watched two of them, as they swam from the mainland to a small isle. When they reached the rocky isle, they quickly disappeared into small cave-like openings between the rocks and cliffs. I had made a drawing depicting this event, and the drawing itself was very life-like! But then I noticed that I had drawn the foxes as they already had partly disappeared into the rocks; one could only see their long tails and their hind legs. I made new drawings, to show also the faces of the foxes and their front paws, but the faces looked like cartoons and the paws would only look bulbous and deformed.
In a dream I had two years ago: There’s an elderly man living on an island. He keeps two dogs; two large black hounds, probably Doberman Pinschers. There is a story about this old man, that he used to collect women, and then lock them up in a room where the dogs would tear their bodies into pieces. I’m on this island, along with another girl: Heidi. We are in a house located right in the middle of the island (it’s not the old man’s house – he lives on the coast). It’s a large old villa, with high roof, and a wood staircase in the middle of the house leading up to the second floor. There are windows in the ceiling. I have keys leading to the rooms of this house. Heidi is hurt, she is limping but she is pretending like there’s nothing wrong with her. Somehow this alarms me. I’m panicking. I can hear the dogs downstairs, letting themselves in, rummaging and rumbling; looking for us. I frantically try to find the right key so I can unlock one room and then lock ourselves into another room, so that the dogs can’t reach us. When Heidi talks of the dogs, she doesn’t use the word ‘dogs’, she refers to them as ‘library foxes’. It is understood that library foxes is a particularly wicked kind of animal.
November 12, 2010 § Leave a comment
Recently, I spotted a fox in the wild. It was moving forward; creeping (creeping – but quickly), with its body pressed close to the ground, near a ditch next to a field. It was moving in a way that informed me that it had caught sight of a prey it now was stalking. A couple of days later, I spotted another fox near a glade next to the road. I have never seen foxes in the wild before. But I have dreamt about them.
Further up the hill, a fox was playing in the snow. The fox, strong and sturdy, was jumping up in the air and diving down; as if he was attacking a prey, or toying with something. I tried to move closer, wanting to see the fox up close, but the fox just moved further away from me. I could now see that he was playing with a dead magpie; its feathers were all torn, and sticky and wet from melted snow and its own blood.
November 6, 2010 § 2 Comments
“We were still attentive to the trunk, believing that it might wish to say more to us, when we were surprised by an uproar, as one who perceives the wild boar and the chase coming toward his stand and hears the Feasts and the branches crashing. And behold two on the left hand, naked and scratched, flying so violently that they broke all the limbs of the wood. The one in front was shouting, “Now, help, help, Death!” and the other, who seemed to himself too slow, “Lano, thy legs were not so nimble at the jousts of the Toppo:” and when perhaps his breath was failing, of himself and of a bush he made a group. Behind them the wood was full of black bitches, ravenous and running like greyhounds that have been unleashed. On him that had squatted they set their teeth and tore him to pieces, bit by bit, then carried off his woeful limbs.”
Canto XIII, Inferno
November 5, 2010 § Leave a comment
Vogel’s escape (Le Cercle Rouge, Jean-Pierre Melville 1970)