Christiana Aro-Harle

I found this from March 6, 2021. 

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I dreamt last night.

I am wandering and on a planet, which I think is Earth. There are other humans around. I have been given a bag full of a plant. A tree. And I am supposed to find a grinder – something that will grind this material up into powder – or flour – just grind it. I wander around looking and find other folk -but I realise I am a bit of guest, a foreigner. I do not know their ways. In the room or indoor hall – like Polvijärvi school’s gym hall – with the lacquered wood floor and white walls and white ceiling – I wander through. People are missing. A group of about five persons. Truckers or something like that. In the rooms, we are looking for them. At the same time I am asking for a coffee grinder or something that will grind this bag full of tree plant. I don’t know why I need to grind it – I think it has to do with that I need to be able to eat it cause there is no other food around. I know that the shopping bag – plastic- is important and precious. The bag is rolled like a sausage, a bundle. The men who disappeared are literally vanished. We cannot find them anywhere. How could they just disappear how could they just disappear from here. We have looked everywhere – in rooms, closets, behind false walls, under the soil in the neighbouring field. The field is tilled but nothing is growing. Actually, nothing is green anywhere. I speak with an older woman – wrinkles, grey hair, somebody with a white shirt on, grey blue skirt- and she leans against a door frame and says we don’t have a grinder. I say they must have something because I was told they did. She looks at me and I know she and all the people around here are hiding the truth from me. This is a dangerous place yet I am unsure of what the danger is or from whom. I know I must get out of there. I am beginning to feel a sense of urgency – not panic yet, more of they are hiding something, and this bag I have of whatever plant food is, I don’t think they want me to get it ground up.

The woman finds me another bag. In it is an old wood and gone-green metal grinder. Almost like a coffee grinder. But it is broken. There is no arm on it – only a short extrusion. I try and figure out how it is supposed to work. I tell her it is broken and – I tell her it is broken cause it does not work. Where is the turning arm? Don’t they have a replacement? Or someone who can fix it? So time is spent now on trying to find a machine that can replace this grinder. I do not understand why there is not a grinder. They have everything else it seems. Although I have not seen any trees or greenery. And those men are missing. Maybe they are robots or androids, AI? I think that in the dream and wonder about that.

I finally stop – and decide to look in the bag. No one said I couldn’t look in there. Then again, I do not even know how I came to have the white plastic shopping bag- thick white- not these biodegradable things- I unroll it, cause it is rolled like a bundle – I carry it under my arm and in hand – not swinging it. The other bag has the broken coffee grinder. Inside are the stems and cuttings of cedar. The smell is heaven itself. I see the greenery – looking like cedar and the cones are along also. Small little cones but full of the nuts I am thinking. Fatty protein-full nuts.  – but the smell is very cedar. Why am I holding this bundle and why does it need grinding? Means the nuts get ground too. And what will it taste like? But the smell – ahhhh. Why am I holding the mother tree in a plastic bag and have to grind it? I can only think that it is necessary. ¹

Amongst all this is still the missing persons – and there is also missing a baby. Whose baby I am unclear on – 

Right after opening the bag I am in another landscape. Indoors and all metal – or metal like. Very modern. Very smooth surfaces. I am wandering in corridors and there are other people- all races, all sizes, a lot of Asiatic folk. Everyone is wearing onesies – jumpsuit, but close fitting – ahhhh, like Star Trek suits! But no militia insignia. I am asking about the grinder. 

I run into a person and ask what the place is, why is everyone acting like they are at a party. A man walks into a wall, missing the sliding door – but doesn’t stop and say “ouch” or try and correct self and go through the door, he just keeps trying to walk through that one spot, repeatedly. I then realise this person is a mechanical. Sure looks human. My level of fear or suspicions about where I am begin to rise.

They don’t even have a huge agricultural grinder I could use – there is nothing but this box with pateen green metal top and no way to turn it, to grind cedar. 

I wander into a room – cause wanting to see how these people entertain themselves, or what do they do when together.

There is a long bench-bed from the opposite wall to almost the sliding door. On it sit, I think, four persons who are active, and about 4 persons who are observing. The room is longer than wide and full. They do not notice me. One has a timer on – watching his wristband. The six are pulling out and on huge rolls of paper – like the rolls of paper used on doctor’s examination beds or at the massage or physiotherapists treatment table. They are just pulling on their roll as fast as they can. Billows of paper are collecting up at their feet and around them. Everyone is screaming with laughter. So they are having fun by doing this? What a waste of paper! They don’t care. I know that this is just one of several games here and it doesn’t matter what they do or how much they use because the lords will provide more. The waste- the frivolousness, the – I know they will continue with trying to see who can pull the most off the fastest. They have many such games. And the Lords just figure out ways to give more of whatever so they can continue laughing – I really don’t understand the humour. Or this normal-ness. 

When that thought enters my head – and a bit surprised I look at myself and see that I am not dressed as the others. I am not sure what I have on, but it is not those onesies. I ask about if any one else has this tree – something is amiss. We – I want to know where are these lords – or rather why is there not more people here – where is the sky – looks dark but no stars – and where is the green, the trees- Cause that is what is missing. Trees, birdsong – tree sounds…. And I go through a door that takes me outside. I really have to get this cedar ground!

And all is dark outside – maybe just sliver of light – so I can see just and just. And all is man-made – metal-like – smooth lines – there is not a tree in sight. There is no greenery. There are no cars. And someone is with me but not sure who. And I am wondering about the “lords”… and the dawn arises and in the skies are round ships, orbs, planets, not sure what to call them. Too many folk on planet so the “lords” are living on their own mini-planets which circumnavigate the earth. They remind me of star wars movies – death star – like. And there are hundreds of them…. And they are not just in the atmosphere of earth – but seem to be farther still- metal balls bearing the lords! I realise that I am carrying maybe the last bundle of cedar, of greenery, and still wonder why does it need to be ground up when maybe the seeds can be planted.

There is nothing living here. The missing truckers – shipment transporters – are still missing and have to do with those orb worlds. That is where there is greenery – inside them maybe – I do not know. I just know they are like- watching the earth- and feel safe up there.

There is nothing green here. I see no fields. The earth, where I am standing, feels more metal and the humans don’t seem real – yet they were. No one talks. Talked. 

And I have this bag – bundle in my arms and it is to be made into food. And no where to grind it.

End dream

So that is the way the world is headed? We are on that road already? No concept of waste? No concept of just do as you please as long as entertained and entertaining? Those rolls of paper – the bits pulled out – will just get dumped – not used. And I started to think of all the waste that happens now, mass production, cheap crap ordered by families and entrepreneurs and limiteds to sell to tourists; plastic bits, metal bits, souvenirs, crates and metal cages full of mass produced shovels, sleds, socks, sandals, shoes…. Cheap cheap. And all the people involved and what do they get? Who lives in the orbs and who plays with paper? All the bottles of shampoo lined on shelves of stores, all the vegetables wrapped in plastic, where do all the cashews come from, unending and in stores around the world? And the “lords” just above it all.

Awake and looking. Another morning. Find me a thread that I can follow, or that can follow to me. So that I can grind. So that the bundle can be sung out. Ground into food.