Sunday, December 23, 2012

This Is My Brain on Fibre


I have written before about my recurring dream in which I find myself amidst a treasure trove of beautiful textiles,  and told I can take whatever I want. When I go to leave my armload of fantastic stuff turns to dust, or is misplaced, or taken by someone else. There is a feeling of loss.

Well, last night I had the complete opposite of that dream. I was taken to visit some distant relative who gave me a bag of her unused knitting and sewing things. When I opened the bag I found a lot of junk - tail ends of balls of crochet cotton, nasty acrylic yarn, yellowing plastic baggies filled with polyester. And at the bottom of the bag was a bill for $100 - it wasn't a gift at all! I was angry and grabbed a handful of shiny purple polyester fibre and held it into the air and yelled: "Polyester equals Death!" I was asked to leave, which I did quite happily.

Where is Dr. Freud when you need him?


3 comments:

  1. I love the weird places our sleeping minds take us! But I'm betting old Freud wouldn't understand the yarn thing. He'd think it was a metaphor for something else.

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  2. Anonymous6:40 AM

    "Organic" yams wrapped in plastic and deadly polyester certainly doesn't require a Dr. Freud. I'm guessing that you simply hate the ever-increasing con of the modern world that substitutes the artificial for the natural any chance it can. We all see it. Every time I go to the super market and see rows and rows of canned and bottled and pre-cooked and prepared foods and I wonder, was it always like this? When I was a child, surely the ratio of fresh foods to industrialized foods must have been greater. Thank god there is still a fresh vegetable and fruit section and fresh fish and meat can be had but I always wonder, for how much longer? When will the market be completely taken over by artificial flavours whipped up in a corporate laboratory? It was just a bad dream. Take a walk in the woods tomorrow with Gracie and I'm sure it will go away. Merry Christmas!

    Jean-Pierre

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  3. Mr Freud would tell you, that the interpretation is up to the dreamer anyhow... ;-)

    (And Merry Christmas!)

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