The Dream of November 28

Right. A bit of background information on this one:
I was about to head to bed shortly before four. Which, as it happened, was the time a bunch of really loud, and I mean REALLY LOUD, students decided that shouting and pounding on things that make noise was the way they wanted to spend the next two hours. Not particularly sleep-inducive and this was the first time I ever considered phoning the police on some of my fellow students. I didn't, though.
However, at some point I did fall asleep and I think I got about two hours out of it. Plenty of time for a dream, here we go:
I'm walking along this street in what appears to be the center of a reasonably-sized English town. It all looks very English, anyway. With me are Kit (who just last night accused me of not liking her anymore since she hasn't been featured in a dream for ages - well, here you are, Kit!), Julian (Kit's boyfriend, not sure if he's been in one before) and Louise. But not Louise from Norwich (which would have made more sense as we were on our way to a gig) - it was Louise from Jönköping.
Aaaaand... I'm pregnant (it's been a while since the last time, so I guess all is in order)! Not very though, like... 4-5 months into it. We're on our way to queue up for a gig by an unknown band, and across a big parking lot is the start of the queue. No one's there yet and it's a fairly warm day and the particular spot where it starts is in the shade, so I'm hurrying along to get there before someone else does. I'm feeling a bit... bloated by the pregnancy and start to complain about pregnancy stuff to Louise who agrees and gives me hints. Either she's pregnant too or has a kid in this dream, I guess. When we finally reach the queue point it's suddenly further up the street, in the sun, and there's one girl waiting there already. We hang around for a while before I decide to head across the street, to the Starbucks. The sun is causing me discomfort and I want an ice cold frappucino (with absolutely no trace of coffee in it) to keep cool. As soon as I decide to, the traffic becomes crazy, it's a small street but somehow people manage to drive like... nothing I've ever seen, all over the street, switching to the wrong sides, stopping for no reason and all kinds of things. When, finally, one car drives like a normal person, I watch it as it passes me and see that - you're not goin to believe this - there's a man sticking through it. Yes. Through it. As if the car backed into him at a violent speed and his head burrowed through the glass - without breaking it - and his body became stuck haflway through. Now his legs are sticking out and I can see that he's wearing those bright orange trousers that people working along the roads wear sometimes. After this, a few more cars pass by before I can cross the street. When I get there I can't find the entrance to Starbucks, but a group of three girly girls who're talking about coffee walk into a linen shop and I follow. Apparently you're supposed to walk up the stairs inside to get to Starbucks. But a woman in a green apron stops me before I manage it and informs me I can order from her. Not sure why I'm stopped, but I wildly stared around for a menu, knowing the frappucinos change every now and then and that it's been a while since I was there last. She gives me one and I locate a drink, but then I suddenly decide I want ice cream too (which apparently they have now). I'm struggling to choose and she hands me the phone on which she's talking to the person who's supposed to make me my frappucino - and that woman sounds annoyed at having to wait.
Now, I'm in a proper Starbucks (or, at least there are now tables and sofas and armchairs behind me, even if there's no proper counter), and the annoyed woman is standing in front of me. Apparently I'm not there alone anymore. John (my Frost*ie friend, for those not in the know) is standing next to me, patiently waiting for me to make my decision (much more patiently than the woman taking my order). I've finally located the ice cream and they've got some sort of "series" of ice creams to do with ice cream through the ages. For some reason one of them's named "IKEA" and feeling my forehead sweat under the stare of the annoyed Starbucks-employee I decide to go for that one. Even though I've no idea if that's the kind of ice cream I want.
John and I sit down for a bit and the woman returns with my order, saying something like "it's so late now that you won't have time to finish it here". I look around, confusedly, and there's a girl at the next table (another employee, probably on a break) who says I shouldn't listen to her, that she's just in a bad mood. Peering out through the window I can see that the line has grown now. Louise is no longer there, but Kit and Julian are being their normal selves; Kit is climbing Julian like a tree (I don't know if I've actually seen her do that, but it wouldn't surprise me if she did). She sort of falls over his shoulder and he catches her and puts her down on the ground again. Both of them are giggling. I point them out to John, who says: "So that's Kit? She looks really cuddly". I've no idea if one's supposed to describe people as looking cuddly, but it's a description that fits her really well.
I guess we keep talking a while longer, but I can't remember what we say after that. Then I wake up.

Who the hell would name an ice cream IKEA?

The Nightmares of November 27

I was on a street, a regular little street with houses on both sides. It was dark and fairly cold, but not winter. A little girl, no older than seven, is walking towards me in the distance. She's got blond hair in pig tails, and walking alongside her is a white goat. I'm immediately cautious, as I recognise this. It might be that I've dreamed it before or that I just think I've been in that situation before in my dream. As she approaches I'm utterly terrified, but not letting it show. I ask her what she's doing out here - I can't remember if she replied. For some reason I grab the goat with one arm and decide to try to get them both home to where they're supposed to be but I wake up.

I've forgotten some details of it, I know there was more interaction between me and the girl. And I realise it doesn't sound like a nightmare, but it was indeed frightening.


Next dream.
I'm walking along what seems to be a dirt road in the country somewhere, there's a dense forest on the left side of me and there's a clearing, with just a few trees on the other - but further up and down the road there are forests on that side too. I don't know if I'm scared as soon as the dream starts. Probably. Suddenly I hear absolutely frantic barking from my left and fear grips me as I see a large german shepherd bolting out from between the trees. Normally I'm not afraid of dogs, but if one is barking as if rabid and going straight for me I'm not as inclined to act warm and welcoming. Just as it's about to jump at me (or so I think), it changes direction ever so slightly and runs past me, stopping right next to me, and starts to bark at something on the other side of the road. Two wolves. They don't appear to be ready to attack, at least not when I spot them, the dog might have scared them. From what I know of wolves they're not likely to attack you, but since I've never seen them in the wild I'm still very much frightened as I feel the warmth of my canine rescuer against my legs and try to remember if I'm supposed to try to scare them off by making noise or if that's what you should do with bears. Terrified, I don't move and hope that the confused-looking wolves will back off. Then I wake up.


Next dream.
There's supposed to be a sequel to a very violent film (dream-fictional, not real) opening soon and I'm talking to Beppo about seeing it (we saw the original and loved it so we decided to go together to the new one when it would be released). But now he's saying that he never liked the first one - it was far too emo for his taste - but he's going to go see it with his girlfriend just because she wants to. I think I yell at him for forgetting it.
Then the dream shifts and I'm at a computer in a bedroom. Suddenly I'm aware that I'm inside the first film. And I "know" that I survived the film the first time I was in it because I happened to be out when the crazy, violent and very disturbed killer arrived to kill everyone in the house and he didn't know who was supposed to be there, other than the one girl I think it was his "mission" to kill. So I get up from my chair, deciding to leave now and stay out until it's dark outside as I know he came during the day - even if I don't know which day.
But as I'm tying my shoes by the door I can hear shouts from outside and I immediately run into the bedroom that's right behind me. Through the crack of the door I can see a hand grab the hair of the blond girl (apparently they're popular in my nightmares) and I don't need to see more to know that she's getting decapitated or worse. I get on the bed and draw the covers up, hiding underneath, pretending to be... I don't even know if I'm shooting for dead or sleeping. Sleeping probably. I don't dare to move at all and I'm suddenly aware that he's in the room. I'm laying there with my mouth slightly open and realise that I'm beginning to drool out of the right corner of my mouth (yes, it's a lovely image, isn't it?) when the covers are pulled off me. For some reason, despite pretending to sleep, I'm staring at the ceiling and I can see the killer standing next to the bed. He's looking at me, not doing anything. I want to close my eyes, I don't want to see what he's going to do to me, but I don't dare to and he just stands there for a moment. Then he moves the odd-looking weapon he's carrying (it looks like a sword you "fold out" of a metal contraption of some sort. Ideal for the man who can't decide whether to slice his victims to death or bludgeon them) from his left hand to his right. And lowers his left hand towards my face. He's holding out his index finger and with it he, slowly, wipes the saliva off my face. Then he lifts his hand back up, still moving very slowly, then puts his finger in his mouth, and - still slowly - pulls his finger out of his mouth again, creating sort of a "popping noise" as the tip of it leaves his lips. Then he takes out a knife from a holster and I all I can do is watch as he holds it out over my body. But then he sets the other weapon down on the floor, holds out his right arm, and cuts himself. At this point I'm so surprised and confused that I think I make a faint noise, almost like a squeal I've tried to suppress. He shifts his gaze momentarily from his arm to my face, as if to check to see what I'm doing, then he looks back again. Blood is starting to run down his arm and drip onto my shirt. Then he tips his arm down, angling it towards my face and the blood starts running down it, towards his outstretched finger. It drips into my mouth and after ten, or so, drops have landed on my tongue he backs away, pulls down his sleeve, picks up his weapon and leaves.
And then I wake up (and decide that I'm done with sleeping for now).

The Dream of November 22

I've been dreaming a lot lately, or rather, dreaming things that have been memorable enough for me to hang on to some details as I wake up. This, along with the fact that my entire body has been aching for the last few days, suggest that I've got a virus or something.
Oh, well, let's get down to business right away, shall we?

The first few parts of this dream are shorter "scenes" and I may not be remembering them in chronological order, but they feel as if they belong to the same dream somehow.
In the first part of the dream I'm outside this house with a group of people. I don't see myself as being younger than I am, but it feels like a school trip and next to me is a girl I haven't seen for something like ten years. I'm fairly sure I've actually dreamed about her, and mentioner her, before, her name is Nina.
The house looks like a small cottage, really, but the front door is open and peering inside I can see that the house is large and that the room I know we're going to in a bit is huge. We're receiving instructions about what to do when we get inside, and how we're getting inside. Everyone's supposed to walk in twos and there are some rules concerning what colour clothing we should be wearing. Some pairs have to be dressed completely in blue - not like a uniform or anything, just any clothes of any blue kind - and I know there are two (possibly three) other colours represented too, but I can't remember which ones they were. Then there's the other group, where there's no rule for the colours of the clothing, and that's the one Nina and I belong to. But it still feels like the clothes we're wearing have been selected on purpose by someone else. I'm struggling to remember the sequence in which we were all sent inside, but I have a hazy memory of being sent inside, and waiting for a moment before proceeding to the room furthes in and being seated on a bench or something by the wall on the opposite side of the entrance. It's decorated much like a sitting room of an old cottage, so that part seems somewhat consistent.
I remember there being teachers there too, one of them may have been one of my computer teachers from high school. For some reason, I am unwell. I can't say what it is, but it's as if they spot me being about to fall to the floor because I have a distinct memory of a rather beautiful, heavy-set woman sitting down next to me and me resting my head against her lap while she strokes my hair and she and the other teacher scold me for not taking care of myself properly. Apparently, I'm very sick. How I do not know. Maybe everyone there is.

My next memory is still a collection of friends together in one place as if on a trip, but the ones I remember this time are from my uni. Beppo is there, I think, but we don't talk to each other. Jonas is the one I have conversations with. We're no longer in the cottage, I'm no longer ill, but it still feels as if it's the same exact location as before. This time it's more of a warehouse than anything. We're talking about something and I make some kind of comment about him and living in a proper house rather than a flat. I think there's a sort of socialist/communist edge to it, as if it's bad to live in a house because that's too posh and he's too much of a "leftist" to want to do so. But it's clearly some kind of joke because he laughs and says "Yeah, becaus it's not as if I actually live in a house back home". For the record; I have no idea if he lives in a flat or house back home.
Then a teacher arrives. This time I can't quite put a face to him, even if it feels like the same computer teacher as before but somehow morphed with one of my art teachers from uni. He's saying something about installing a door to campus. One of those big silvery ones that really large garages have and we're all a bit confused. We want to know where on campus it will be and he tells us it'll be on "our end of it" and not the other side and we want to know if they're going to close off the old doors then so that we all have to use this new door, and he says "no, it's just a new door". I think we approve of it.

Then the dream shifts. I'm on a bus going back home. This time I'm carrying bags with vinyls and CDs in them, and I feel tired, and I know it's reeeally late - or really early, depending on how you look at it. I'm now with my friend Louise (Not Lovely Louise from Norwich, but the girl I've known since I was twelve), which in itself is odd as we don't really go to gigs and things together. Perhaps it should have been Kit, but since we were on a bus in some strange version of Jönköping I guess Louise just fit in better. We're at the back of the bus and a man gets on. He reminds me of Patric, but I don't know why. The only apparent things they have in common is that he too seems to be in his early forties and he's got luggage and some vinyl bags too (Patric buys a lot of vinyl, he knows quality music!). This man has very short hair and wears glasses, and he heads for the back of the bus where Louise and I are seated. Looking around me to see how much room there is I realise that I've got quite a bit of luggage, almost as if we're on our way back from the Burg-Herzberg festival or something. I move some of it aside, to allow the man to sit down. As he does I make a comment about a band I know I've just seen, and then I remember that I met this man wherever we were going back from and that we talked about or saw the band in question live. But I'm afraid he won't remember me. He does. And we start talking.
It gets odd here, because it's still the same trip home, but every now and then a few seconds or a few minutes disappear, and it happens a few times more from here on in. I'm going to write [break] to illustrate when this happens. It's a bit like watching a film that's got some parts missing.
[break] We're now at the bus stop by the school where Louise and I first met ("junior high school" or whatever one wishes to call it, grades 7-9) and the side of the road we're on suggests that we had been on our way to Öxnehaga (the area in Jönköping where I spent nine years of my childhood, and Louise still lived when we went to school together) before getting off the bus. We're discussing which bus I'm to change to in order to get home. She says something about no 34 (which as far as I know does not exist and definitely does not run there) and as we're talking I'm moving around a bit, restlessly, like I often do when waiting for a bus. I'm out in the street but suddenly become aware of a bus coming at me at full speed and I hurry onto the sidewalk. I can hear the breaks squeak as the bus stops, but for some reason it stops on the wrong side of the road. Then, another bus comes along, from the other direction, also at full speed, and this one seems to be headed right for us, almost as if it's trying to run us down, but at the last second it turns as to not hit us and the driver slams on the breaks. This one's also on the wrong side of the road.
[break] The drivers and one more man are now outside their buses, talking loudly and cheerfully about a party they're going to or something, not paying any attention to us despite the lateness of the hour Then they get back on their buses. I think one of them is the one I'm supposed to take but both Louise and I are too scared to get on the buses. The man from before is nowhere to be seen.
[break]
I'm on a bus heading into the center of town again, and for some reason I don't know exactly where it's going, I only know it's heading in the wrong direction and I try to find a good place to change to another bus, only I don't know if any other buses are running at this point. Then we pass a bus stop that has one of those big electronic "counter" thingies that lets you know how many minutes there are until the next bus leaves and I see that the next one runs past my house and that the morning buses are already running. I quickly get off the one I'm on, it stops inside some sort of building and there are doors to get on to the platform (much like some tube stops have a wall in front of the tracks and the driver has to stop the train so that the doors of the train are in the same place as the doors of the wall on the platform - same thing here, for some reason) and I wave to the driver before leaving the bus.

And then I woke up. I should've gone back to sleep but found my head too full of memories from this dream and I just had to write it down. A long one this time, I hope that there's SOMEONE who can get through the whole damn thing.

The Dream of my not so short nap of November 20

I really don't remember much, just fragments from some of the various dreams I had. Honestly, I think I was too exhausted to remember anything as I didn't sleep last night. I'd set my alarm to 5 o'clock, and when I woke up it was a quarter to 8, so clearly, I must've woken up at some point and turned the alarm off. Well, actually, no, I just remembered that for some reason my phone was in the inbox for texts-thingie and that would suggest that a clumsy, sleeping girl tried to shut it up at some point.


Oddly enough, I think I visited The Netherlands with my mum for a gig in my sleep today. She's been appearing in a lot of my dreams lately, I wonder why that is?
Anyways, we were supposed to get to the UK from there and we had tickets for... some kind of transport, I sort of see what they look like but as strange as it may sound I can not for the life of me determine if they're boats or buses. I think maybe boats? Some kind of strange canals seem to run between wherever we are and wherever we're going. It looks nothing like any place I've seen before. Everything seems to be indoors, despite being outside, I definitely get the feeling that I'm under a giant roof of some kind. And there are floors everywhere and odd little houses shaped like boxes, and everything's very impersonal where I am. There are ramps by these canals and different levels and we soon realise that we're on the wrong one and we start running to get to where we're supposed to be, but we miss our boat/bus/whatever and we have to go somewhere else to find another one and we run through this place that's a lot darker. I get the feeling that the giant roof that's covering everything is a lot lower and, somehow, darker than the other one. The houses here are more personal and seem furnished and they have a lot more windows, and bigger windows. It's clearly a posh neighbourhood and despite the furnishing and the obvious fact that people live here it still feels empty, deserted and there's almost a sense of dread in the air.
I think we eventually get to another transport that's gets us close to where we're going even if it's not the exact place we were looking for.


I had a dream where I recall that I... kept my faith in someone who was either accused of something or looked down on by others, it's really fuzzy now though. There's something about innocence, like this is a young girl or something, perhaps. I'm not sure about this one, it's like I can almost see and remember what it was about but it's juuust out of reach. So you just get the hazy "feelings" of it, rather than something with substance. Just call me Derek Acorah. No, please don't. Unlike him, my dreams aren't fake.


Then I have this recollection of letters and signs flashing before my eyes, like a code or something. Maybe it was a formula for something scientists have been working on for years. But I hope not, since I can't remember what it was. Another odd detail is that I do believe I was involved in some serious kissing when this happened. I *think* I remember who the other person was, but I'm not one to dream-kiss and tell.

The Dream of my short nap of November 19

There were actually at least two dreams (at least), but I've already forgotten most of the first one. What I can tell you is that I was in a world not too dissimilar from the World of Warcraft one where I encountered some kind of boss who bore the resemblance of one of the actors on Desperate Housewives (it's a guilty pleasure, I don't listen to any boy bands or anything, so i get to watch a few bad shows on the telly), but something happened in-game and he completely changed his appearance. This time to something more like what you'd expect from a boss in a computer game.
Suddenly, I guess I was outside the game and the game was no longer a game but that television show we don't need to mention the name of again. I was on the phone with my mum and I mentioned that he'd changed appearances and asked if she thought that actor would still be on the show. She said no, and I said something along the lines of "too bad, I quite liked him".

Then I don't remember any more from that dream, but I did wake up and walk to my desk to do something, I think I got a text or something. Anyway, I know I was awake and that I wasn't wearing my glasses. You'll know why that's important in a bit.

Next dream. I'm in Chicago. I think I'm in Grant Park, where Obama held his speech after the election, I've never been to that particular park, but after the awesomeness that was the three King Crimson gigs Kit and I went to there in August, I'm somewhat familiar with the city itself. I'm there with some fictional friends and the first thing I'm aware of is that I complain that I didn't want to go to "this thing". Clearly, they ask me why I came then, since I'm not one to do things just because my friends are doing them. I said that I only went because I love Chicago. Which is true enough. So what exactly are we doing? We're going to some kind of a launch for an Apple product. And the place is full of Apple "enthusiasts" (I use that word instead of "OMGOMGOMG FANBOYS AND FANGIRLS", which is the expression I'd prefer to use). It was just scary. Steve Jobs is on a huge stage holding up this thing that looks like a little video camera but according to him is "so much more than a video camera". And the crowd is what you'd expect from a really, really psychotic, religious cult. So, just your typical mac-users.
The launch thing ends and for some reason the security guards are supposed to escort Jobs through the crowd to the other side of the park thing. And I manage to get in their way or really close to them no matter where I move. When we're at the exit at the back of the park I suddenly realise that I've lost my glasses and I can't see anything. I start looking around for them, and since this is a dream I spot them from about ten metres away (whereas normally, one metre would make it challenging). Only, as I approach I begin to realize that these aren't my glasses, but a really odd pair. I'm so disappointed that I can't remember the shape of the frames, because I do remember that they looked really cool. I find a female guard who's also wearing glasses and I've no idea why, but I ask her if they're hers. They aren't (d'uh). Then I ask if they might belong to Jobs (despite knowing that he was wearing a different pair as he left the park just before. Note that I have no idea what he looks like of if he wears glasses IRL), and I don't remember what she says, but I do remember that, again, Jobs turns up just where I am, still escorted by five huge security guards. He's wearing his glasses. And then I wake up.

So, clearly the not seeing thing stems from waking up and walking around my room without my glasses on. The Apple thing probably relates to a PM conversation I've been having with a new-found friend on the Frost* forum, who made a point of telling me that his phone is not an iPhone (and I hadn't even asked!). Clearly, my respect for him inreased when he said that.
I'm running out of cheese now so I must hurry to the shop and buy a new piece. A piece of cheese? That doesn't sound right. Might have to get me some chocolate fingers too... I really shouldn't though, the scale was mean to me today again. Argh, enough of this, off I go.

The (still sick) Dream of November 12

Well, actually, there were several. I only remember a very little from one and then most of the last one. The reason there are several is that I kept waking up. At first I woke up around nine when someone called me from a magazine called Vi Föräldrar (literally: We Parents) and said something about me having signed up for something on pampers.se (either some kind of contest or... I have no idea, I was still half asleep) and then I said something along the lines of "errr, no?". The way she paused after saying that stuff about me signing up and the off-handed way in which she explained my lack of knowledge about the whole thing as some kind of mix-up makes me think she was full of it and just needed an excuse for openly violating the don't-call-me-if-your-selling-something-protection-thing I signed up for a year ago. Basically, companies selling things can not contact me unless I've made business with them in the past. There are some ways to get around that, however, and I think this was one of them. So, instead of apologising for bothering me when clearly I had not signed up for anything to do with pampers or parenting she giggled and started telling me about their "great offer" for getting seven issues of their magazine. Idiot. If I haven't signed up for something on website dedicated solely to NAPPIES; maybe, just, MAYBE I don't want to subscribe to a magazine about parenting?
Somehow, despite feeling feverish and despite the throbbing pain in my hip and the back of my neck/shoulder (as I hadn't taken a pain killer for seven hours) and despite being awoken at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning (hey, I'm a student with no classes, I sleep in) I manage to croak "no thanks, I'm not interested" and refrain from (politely) asking her to sod off. And I had trouble going back to sleep for some reason. But when I did...

...I dreamt that I was on a train, having a swordfight with someone (not a real one, just playing around. I even suspect we may have been using baguettes rather than fake swords) and we fell off, and had to start walking along the tracks. Then we ate these really odd, very thick crisps with some kind of brownish spice on them. I can't remember who the other person was, but I don't think it's unlikely that it was Kit, seeing as how we were fighting with baguettes and all.

Then my alarm clock went off and I decided that I deserverd two more hours of sleep.
This time I dreamt that I was a witch in some kind of version of the Harry Potter universe. And for whatever reason I decided to get my Muggle mum (who was my real mum) some candy from Diagon Alley. Except, you don't access Diagon Alley from a secret entrance in London, you get on the Stockholm underground (or it might have been the London one with REALLY upgraded trains) and the Diagon Alley one runs rapidly upwards in a spiral of some sort and there weren't any walls, just air and infinity around it. You couldn't even see the ground below. And for whatever reason this police officer decided to chase down one of the trains in his car (he's actually a character from a series of Swedish books made into films, and this was the most recent film version of the character) and at this point I was seeing this as if in a film, or just floating around in the air, I wasn't in my own body. Suddenly, he's no longer in his car (which, by the way had been driving on the tracks) but in a train of his own, but he was going too fast and the train derailed. So it flew off into air and all the wizards and witches had to cast spells to get him down safely. I don't know what happened to him after that, but I was back to my own self and I was in Diagon Alley. Except it wasn't a street, but a platform by the tracks with some candy stands and things. I bought my candy and went my merry way.
Next thing I know my brother has picked me up and we're supposed to go home. In his car... except it was no longer a car but an airplane. And suddenly we're plummeting to the ground. We crash somewhere that looks an awful lot like the Hellfire Peninsula area in World of Warcraft (yeah, yeah, I know the level of nerdery required to dream about both HP and WoW in one dream - you're just lucky that there's no Van der Graaf Generator and Formula 1 in here to make the whole thing complete). The crash was fairly soft though and it's a car again. I'm in the backseat and I've hurt my knees a bit on the seat in front of me, but escape fairly unscathed, by brother is fine and most importantly: the bag of magic candy for my mum survived.

And then I woke up.

The Dream of the "being-sick sleep" of November 9

The dream started with my grandfather being ill and in the hospital. At least I think he was the first one to fall ill. Me and my mother were visiting him and I'm fairly certain that my brother, his girlfriend and their dog (Yup!) were there too. Some kind of nurse or nurse's aid came to pick up my grandfather in a wheelchair to take him to radiology. I remember that I thought it was an interesting choice of nurse as he was this really tall, wide-shouldered man in his late 50s and looked more as if he were about to do a mob-hit than transport my grandfather to get X-rays taken. I walked with them part of the way and then they turned left and I said goodbye. Another nurse came by and, for some reason, asked me where my grandfather was going. I told her and she replied:
"But... radiology is that way?" and pointed to the corridor to the right. For some reason this scared me, as if I'd somehow been afraid that someone was going to kidnap my grandfather and I told my mother who didn't share my fears but at least was concerned enough that we go down to the ground floor and look for the nurse who'd taken him in the computer system, arguing that a man in that age group shouldn't be hard to find.
My brother and his girlfriend and their dog had now joined us out in the hospital corridor and the dog had lain down on the floor, on his side, not looking well. It seemed we knew he was about to get sick (there was also a discussion concerning whether it was dangerous for the dog to be on the floor like that in case someone came by pushing a wheelchair or bed without seeing him) and they decided to take him to the vet and my brother and his girlfriend disappeared with their dog.
My mum and I went down to the ground floor, which bore an eery similarity to one of the entrances to the shopping centre in my hometown. There was a computer to search for employees of the hospital there and it reminded me of a cash point machine. My mum was looking for the nurse while I was just looking around at all the cafés and people everywhere. A lot of con artists were selling things and causing trouble and there was an escalator dividing the ground floor into two different levels. Once you went up it you were free of the various con artsits and weird people and it looked more like a proper hospital up there. But now we were on the lower level and my mum said she couldn't find him. I went over to help her, but couldn't find anything either. There was a table and some chairs right next to the computer and we sat down to think about it for a moment. Some mid-twenties guy sat down too and he was smiling at me in a very creepy way. Then he put on the world's largest head set and started commentating a sports event. I'm not joking, he was saying something along the lines of: "Here I am at Hovet in Stockholm, looking down on the..." I remember thinking that he was either commentating tennis or the ridiculous, Swedish sport that is "floorball", I'm not sure why I knew it was one of those two sports.
We decided to head back upstairs, to look for my brother (who my mother now feared was getting ill, clearly it was a bad day to be a member, or pet, of our family). The right escalator was broken but I got on it anyway and started walking up. Then I saw my mother ride by on the one next to me, which they'd apparently switched on to compensate. But I only got half-way before some scary bloke grabbed me and lifted me up and held me, with the help of his friends, saying something about me not walking on the escalator. I think it was somehow moving now, because I remember thinking that I was afraid there'd be an accident if he kept holding me in that tight grip as the escalator was running. I kicked, and screamed, and after a while a girl came running down the escalator with her mobile. She shouted something about taking a picture of the guy holding me for the police and he threatened her, saying bad things would happen if she did, but she still took the picture and he let me go. She and I ran back up the escalator and she offered to send the picture to my phone. I gave her my brother's number since my phone can not accept pictures (which is true, actually, so there was some semblance to reality), hoping I'd find him before she sent it so that I could explain what it was in case he decided to erase the picture some stranger sent him.
But now I'd lost my mother, she was nowhere to be found and I started looking for her. But somehow, I decided to go to this... teenage village-type place where a girl I knew from my choir lived (except she wasn't in my choir in the dream, and she was a few years younger than she really is). I remember getting off the bus in this little area outside of town. It looked quite nice and peaceful when you hopped of the bus, and there was a little patch of trees just by the road. I saw a deer in there and pointed it out to the woman waiting for another bus. She said something about that being very unusual in those parts and I said that I saw a lot more deer and wildlife there than I did in my hometown. She was surprised at that and I told her not to be as I was from Jönköping. For some reason she said she'd figured out by my accent that I was from there, which was strange since I don't have that much of an accent and most people can't recognise the accent from my town anyway.
I started walking, but instead of following a road I went towards the patch of trees and went through them, and around a paddock and suddenly found myself in an area made up of tents. But it wasn't your typical camping tents it was the overhead kind they use a festivals and things to sell food from. And these teenagers had divided different tasks between them and were making food and serving beverages in from these different tents. It was really like walking down a street but still being inside a tent. Just before I'd entered the "tent street" I'd felt a bit of rain and when I reached the end of it, it was pouring down like you wouldn't believe, but just as I was about to exit it stopped and I pointed out how weird that was to some of the teenagers around me. Then I left the tent street and now I was on a, sort of, larger "street" that was pretty much just a long stretch of mud with a lot of tents and caravans on either side. I remember finding the girl I was looking for, but I have no idea why I was looking for her and then I woke up.

All in all, a very pointless dream, but since I remembered it so vividly when I woke up I decided to write it down. This is what happens when you go to sleep in the middle of the day when you're sick, kids! Beware!