June 9, 2008
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The Elevator
In the dream, I’m on an island, either in Southeast Alaska or the Aleutians. As part of some local celebration there’s a kids’ race, and everyone is having a good time. After the race, I’m talking to some of the children and parents when a man comes over and offers to show me a local landmark, a big old building overlooking the harbor.
He’s middle aged, with an authoritative air. He wears a dark suit with matching vest. We walk to the ground level landward entrance to the building, which sits on the edge of a high cliff. An old man comes to the door and opens it for us. The suit introduces him as Sam. He wears work clothes and is apparently the caretaker, but his attitude toward the building is very proprietary.
The old guy leads us to an elevator on the side of the building that overhangs the cliff. The first man and I enter the elevator, and the old man walks away. I look around at the signs of age, peeling paint, and rust on the metal walls. As the doors close with a lot of creaking and clanking, and the elevator starts down, I ask who maintains the thing. The man gives me a blank look as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
The machinery is making a lot of noise and the elevator accelerates downward at a rapid rate. I ask if the old guy is the one who maintains the equipment. The suit just shrugs. By this time, we are accelerating so fast I’m feeling almost weightless. I look around for the elevator inspection certificate that I know is legally required, and there is none.
Uneasy about the increasing acceleration and the suit’s blasé attitude toward mechanical maintenance, I start thinking about what might be the safest spot to be standing when we hit bottom. I flex my knees to absorb the shock. The guy in the suit has a hand out, leaning on a wall, and is looking a little green in the face. Then I feel the acceleration begin to decrease.
I tilt my head to the side and look up at the guy, and say, “Feel that? We’re starting to slow down.” He looks relieved as the elevator gradually slows and comes to a gentle stop with hardly a bump. Irritated, I ask, “What was that all about? You like to amuse yourself that way with visitors? Do they all get worried about the machinery?”
“No,” he says, with an uneasy half smile. “They are usually terrified. They scream and cling to me. I think I’ll go ask old Sam about the maintenance.”
Comments (7)
What an interesting dream. It sounds like it would make a great short story (indeed, it has). I thought more about “normal” and the confusing set of questions I asked about it. I guess I was curious about what kind of things are actually studied. I know about normal existing within the standard deviation but I wondered how many things can be classified. By now it’s a moot point. I’ll go back and see if I can salvage and properly reconstruct any of what I was thinking when I asked the first time
Thanks for following up, though.
I enjoyed exploring your blog and thought I should leave a comment conveying such. You’re quite an introspective fellow, a perceptual one who writes beautifully, and I do wish you well in your writing endeavors. Surely, I’ll come back to your site to read more entries.
Creepy dream.
Love the pics in your previous entry!
The only elevator dream I’ve had was when I was learning fire protection codes for a commercial insurance rater job I once had. They had codes like 7a or 5b and there were sooooo many to learn. I had a nightmare after the first day on the job about getting into a elevator where the buttons were fire protection codes and the elevator traveled not only up and down, but sideways too. I couldn’t find my floor number as a 3rd floor didn’t exsist on this elevator and the attendant would let me off until I could give him my floor number. I woke up in a sweat and learned the fire protection codes quickly so I didn’t have a reoccuring dream of my fears.
Fascinating dream. Are you calm in an emergency (or perceived emergency) as your dream-self is?
Interesting… strange, but interesting.
@a_strange_wind_blowing - Usually, in most emergencies, I keep my cool. I surprised myself the time there was a moose in our yard stomping our chained dog. I stood there and screamed. My son picked up my husband’s .44mag, came out and shot the moose.