In this dream I was talking to some exchange students, French guys. And they were talking about new exchange students coming in from France the next day. I offered to drive to the airport and pick them up. What a brilliant idea! It's not like I have a driver's license or a car... But for some reason I had my mum's old car in the dream, a 1990 Ford Fiesta (or Death Trap, whichever name you prefer).
Before I drove to the airport I ended up at this kid's birthday party. The only people there were me, the kid's mum and some bloke she was dating or something, and an whole bunch of kids. For some reason the potential step-father bought the kid a keyboard and the kid was pressing all the weid buttons he could find ending up with all sorts of horrible rhythms and then of course he couldn't play at all. The man who gave it to him was half-heartedly trying to play an actual melody at the same time, but failed to do so. Then he looked up at me, our eyes met and he gave me this odd look.
The dream shifts.
Now it's time to go to the airport, I get in the car and head for Skavsta, whick is about 80 minutes, or so, by car. For some reason, probably fear of having to park next to other cars and not managing that, I find a deserted parking lot a little further away from the airport. When I get out of the car I know exactly which way to go to get to Skavsta Airport. But then I get to this area enclosed by mountains, where there seems to be a camp of some sort. Teenagers, no doubt on the run from their families, seem to be living here and I just know they kill outsiders (I think I'm sort of familiar with them and their story). So I do my best to try to look a few years younger than I actually am and... well, more sulky than I actually am too. Somehow I make it through the camp.
Then I hear on the radio, which is odd since I didn't have one with me, that police have heard reports of a non-licensed driver in the area and are on the lookout, putting up some roadblocks and stuff. Now, the police in this province DO have far too much time on their hands, but this seems a bit extreme. And how did they know? I hadn't run into any trouble at all so far, so how on earth they knew I didn't have a license I have no idea. But I'm too scared to go to the airport, so I just head into the neighbouring town - Nyköping - instead. It looked just like the neighbourhood I lived in when I was a kid. And I've been to Nyköping a couple of times and I know what it looks like in real life.
I walk around there a little bit before deciding to head back home. The road blocks have been removed and I set off. The odd thing is, while I'm on the right road home, I get to this off-ramp with a roundabout that's nowhere near where I was, it's actually right where my mum lives - and that's southwest of my uni town, whereas I was norteast of my uni town in this dream. For some reason I pull off the motorway, knowing full well that it's the wrong way to go. But when I try to get back on it I end up on this tiny, tiny road right next to it. It ends by this museum, or something, which is right by a tube station. We most definitely do not have an underground system in either of the three towns I've been in during the course of this dream. I check out the old museum, which is full of lamps, and see two middle-aged men who look... well, progressive. As I always do when I see people like that I thought "cool, I wonder if they like prog?" and then kept looking at the old lamps. When I left out the front door there was this old lady sweeping up, and I know we talked, but I can not remember about what.
After this I'm on the phone with my mum. To make sure she doesn't suspect me of having the car I tell her I'm slightly tipsy. Just that, no story, nothing that makes sense - I'm just a bit tipsy. Suddenly I realise that I'm not by the car, but at the tube station. I sigh and sit down on the stairs by the platform and the two potenitally progressive men are there. So I ask them if they know how I get to the place I parked my car from there, but apparently they've heard me tell my mum that I was tipsy so the one with the long hair (one had long hair, one was bald) starts telling me how bad it is to drink and drive... ...using Van der Graaf Generator metaphors. At least now I knew they were prog fans. I think I left at this point, but I don't know where I went or what happened next.
At some point I woke up and that was that.
(then I checked MSN and found the following message from my friend Beppo: "Karin calls on the mobile, but the other end is silent when I answer... I check the time and discover that it's a full hour until she normally wakes up and realise that she's probably sleeping ON her mobile and hit the phone book by mistake")
That was true, btw. I must have switched off the alarm clock and fallen asleep on the phone. I haven't dared to check to see if I called anyone else yet, but probably not as Beppo's number was the last one I called before this incident. And to redial the last number called you only need to press the "dial" key twice on my phone.
I'm tired, and the weather sucks today. Last night, at 4 30 (in the morning) I chased this rather large wasp around my room, trying to kill it. I ended up shutting the groggy-looking beast in a cupboard, I hope he's died in there during the night. Otherwise he'll be angry and annoyed when I open.
DUN-DUN-DUUUUUN!
Tuesday 25 September 2007
Wednesday 5 September 2007
The Dream of September 4-5
All right, another weird one.
The first part I can remember is me sitting on a bench or something with a girl from my choir, and she's pregnant (this is the girl who had a son ago, and who asked me to sing at his christening - which I did). For some reason you can't really tell that she is although she's quite far along. I ask if she knows the sex of her baby and then she smiles and shakes her head, saying she can't find out. And I somehow know for a fact that there's nothing, you know, medical stopping her from finding out, but I don't push the point about it since I immediately think she has religious reasons (or something similar) for not finding out. Instead I just say that, "oh, you know if it were me I'd just find out as soon as I can so that there'd be no surprises or anything in the delivery room".
In the next scene we're joined by her husband, but her dream-husband doesn't look like her real life husband. We're on a street somewhere, and it's dark out. The street stretches on uphill and we start walking in that direction, but now I can't choir-friend anymore and her husband crosses the street to talk to a couple in their late 50s, presumably his parents, and I keep walking. When I reach the end of the street there's one of those really high fences with barbed wire at the top that you normally find around power stations and such places. There's a gate in it, or rather, a door and I want to get in, but can't. It's not that it's locked, it's that it won't open more than a couple of inches as there are huge, plastic barrels filled with some liquid (and therefore very heavy) blocking it. But somehow a man with a moustache, presumably someone who works in what I can now see looks to be a mine or something. Somehow, though I have no idea how, he manages to get inside. And after he has me and the people I'm with ('cause I know there are people behind me, but I don't remember who they are) manage to move the barrels and get inside.
I assume I went down into the mine because the next thing I remember is walking into this large open space with some small ponds in it and I know that behind me is a tight, underground path that I've just left. The walls are stone, and the ground is this reddish, powdery dirt (looks a bit like curry, but is actually real dirt). The whole space feels very warm because of the reddish colour of both floor (if one can call it that) and walls. There are loads of little spaces leading off from the "main room", that are just like dark, little dead ends and between then, against the walls, are these shelves with CDs and records. People are walking around, looking at them and talking, I suddenly I see that Stefan Dimle is one of them and I realise that this is Mellotronen Record Store. Stefan is walking across the room, there are quite a lot of people in there (even though it's so large it doesn't look crowded) but he does spot me and I smile and wave at him. But he doesn't smile or wave back, nor does he say anything, he just glances in my direction and walks on. I'm a little saddened by this as he normally says hello every time we meet. Now I walk across the room to the shelves by the other side.
When I get there there's another shift, and it's no longer Mellotronen (or it might still be but... well, read on). The first thing I see as I turn around by the opposite wall is a boy in the center of the room, fighting some little creatures that he's trying to kill. He does it and comes up to talk to me. At this point I'm not really sure if the other people and the records are still there, but I do not notice them anyways. The boy starts talking to me about my mount (in World of Warcraft you can buy mounts to ride on at higher levels, there's regular ones at lvl 40, fast ones at lvl 60 and flying ones at lvl 70), and I somehow know that I'm the highest level one can be bere, although I'm not sure what that is. And he's getting closer to it himself and wants some advice. And as we talk, more monsters to kill appear and when I look at the "action bar" of different kinds of attacks to make on the monsters I find that what I have are all the weapons from the game-series called "Worms" and I start throwing stuff at them. At one point I accidentally drop a mine by my feet and have to move quickly (I even think I hopped off the way the worms do), and after that I settle for the cluster bombs and start throwing those at the beasts until they die.
The place shifts back again and now there are two guys by the shelves I'm at (the prog section, of course) and one of 'em turns to me and goes: "I know you." "What?" I say.
"Yeah, I know you from the Internet. I've known you since you were a little kid, like five (*note* this is quite odd since I was five in 1990 and clearly not online at that point). Your online handle is Kendra."
"Errr, no?"
"Yes, it is." He started smiling, a little bit creepy-looking.
Then out of nowhere comes Kit and drags me off to look at the records, away from this guy. For some reason we browse through the different albums on one of those scroll menu things you get when you're filling out an online form, for instance, choosing your country of residency from a list. But we keep getting interrupted by different things. The last interruption I remember is my grandmother appearing out of nowhere to ask me if I've moved all my books out of her flat yet (which is odd in many ways since we rarely talk about books and I've never had any at her home), and I'm a bit... confused. But then, behind here, there is suddenly a rug with a pile of books on it and I assume they've got something to do with me and I now know the answer.
"Most of them, but there are a few left."
And then she starts talking about this one book that the owner has to rewrite by themselves and I think there's something odd about taking an ABBA-song and rewriting the lyrics for it to fit you (I know that "mine" was My Love, My Life but I don't know if that's the one everyone got or just me). And then I woke up. At some point, it seems, I had grabbed my mobile (which was ringing to wake me up as I had set the alarm on it) and turned it off because when I woke up it was underneath me, jammed quite painfully into my back.
A long one.
The first part I can remember is me sitting on a bench or something with a girl from my choir, and she's pregnant (this is the girl who had a son ago, and who asked me to sing at his christening - which I did). For some reason you can't really tell that she is although she's quite far along. I ask if she knows the sex of her baby and then she smiles and shakes her head, saying she can't find out. And I somehow know for a fact that there's nothing, you know, medical stopping her from finding out, but I don't push the point about it since I immediately think she has religious reasons (or something similar) for not finding out. Instead I just say that, "oh, you know if it were me I'd just find out as soon as I can so that there'd be no surprises or anything in the delivery room".
In the next scene we're joined by her husband, but her dream-husband doesn't look like her real life husband. We're on a street somewhere, and it's dark out. The street stretches on uphill and we start walking in that direction, but now I can't choir-friend anymore and her husband crosses the street to talk to a couple in their late 50s, presumably his parents, and I keep walking. When I reach the end of the street there's one of those really high fences with barbed wire at the top that you normally find around power stations and such places. There's a gate in it, or rather, a door and I want to get in, but can't. It's not that it's locked, it's that it won't open more than a couple of inches as there are huge, plastic barrels filled with some liquid (and therefore very heavy) blocking it. But somehow a man with a moustache, presumably someone who works in what I can now see looks to be a mine or something. Somehow, though I have no idea how, he manages to get inside. And after he has me and the people I'm with ('cause I know there are people behind me, but I don't remember who they are) manage to move the barrels and get inside.
I assume I went down into the mine because the next thing I remember is walking into this large open space with some small ponds in it and I know that behind me is a tight, underground path that I've just left. The walls are stone, and the ground is this reddish, powdery dirt (looks a bit like curry, but is actually real dirt). The whole space feels very warm because of the reddish colour of both floor (if one can call it that) and walls. There are loads of little spaces leading off from the "main room", that are just like dark, little dead ends and between then, against the walls, are these shelves with CDs and records. People are walking around, looking at them and talking, I suddenly I see that Stefan Dimle is one of them and I realise that this is Mellotronen Record Store. Stefan is walking across the room, there are quite a lot of people in there (even though it's so large it doesn't look crowded) but he does spot me and I smile and wave at him. But he doesn't smile or wave back, nor does he say anything, he just glances in my direction and walks on. I'm a little saddened by this as he normally says hello every time we meet. Now I walk across the room to the shelves by the other side.
When I get there there's another shift, and it's no longer Mellotronen (or it might still be but... well, read on). The first thing I see as I turn around by the opposite wall is a boy in the center of the room, fighting some little creatures that he's trying to kill. He does it and comes up to talk to me. At this point I'm not really sure if the other people and the records are still there, but I do not notice them anyways. The boy starts talking to me about my mount (in World of Warcraft you can buy mounts to ride on at higher levels, there's regular ones at lvl 40, fast ones at lvl 60 and flying ones at lvl 70), and I somehow know that I'm the highest level one can be bere, although I'm not sure what that is. And he's getting closer to it himself and wants some advice. And as we talk, more monsters to kill appear and when I look at the "action bar" of different kinds of attacks to make on the monsters I find that what I have are all the weapons from the game-series called "Worms" and I start throwing stuff at them. At one point I accidentally drop a mine by my feet and have to move quickly (I even think I hopped off the way the worms do), and after that I settle for the cluster bombs and start throwing those at the beasts until they die.
The place shifts back again and now there are two guys by the shelves I'm at (the prog section, of course) and one of 'em turns to me and goes: "I know you." "What?" I say.
"Yeah, I know you from the Internet. I've known you since you were a little kid, like five (*note* this is quite odd since I was five in 1990 and clearly not online at that point). Your online handle is Kendra."
"Errr, no?"
"Yes, it is." He started smiling, a little bit creepy-looking.
Then out of nowhere comes Kit and drags me off to look at the records, away from this guy. For some reason we browse through the different albums on one of those scroll menu things you get when you're filling out an online form, for instance, choosing your country of residency from a list. But we keep getting interrupted by different things. The last interruption I remember is my grandmother appearing out of nowhere to ask me if I've moved all my books out of her flat yet (which is odd in many ways since we rarely talk about books and I've never had any at her home), and I'm a bit... confused. But then, behind here, there is suddenly a rug with a pile of books on it and I assume they've got something to do with me and I now know the answer.
"Most of them, but there are a few left."
And then she starts talking about this one book that the owner has to rewrite by themselves and I think there's something odd about taking an ABBA-song and rewriting the lyrics for it to fit you (I know that "mine" was My Love, My Life but I don't know if that's the one everyone got or just me). And then I woke up. At some point, it seems, I had grabbed my mobile (which was ringing to wake me up as I had set the alarm on it) and turned it off because when I woke up it was underneath me, jammed quite painfully into my back.
A long one.
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