I'm desperately trying to string my bits of dreams together. I think, and kind of hope, that they're all connected, but the thing is that I was different women in many of the parts. At least three different ones, maybe more. And while there were many, many weird aspects clearly not connected to the times they were in I still felt strongly *when* these were taking place. While not all things included in every bit here was clear in the actual dream in that same bit - I've used information I just *knew* in the other bits. Oh, and I think I went back and forth in between different parts of the dream, but I've put them all together here.
While these bits happened in an order I'm not sure of, I'll try to write them in a way that makes sense. The first bit of the first one was the first part of the dream, though. And the last bit of the last one was the last bit. So THOSE are where they're "supposed" to be. Confused? Me too.
1. I was a woman making her way through a forest area, trying to get away from someone, yet trying to find someone else. My perception was a bit... unnatural, a bit like a fairytale-ish film for children so I think that someone else was reading a book about what I was doing in this part of the dream (which would make sense with what comes later). From patching together different bits of the dream I know that this woman, or teenage girl, is a runaway slave in 19th century America.
Now, there is a very odd aspect to this bit which lasts for a very short time. The woman is riding some strange creature, not unlike a pig, which is levitating a couple of feet above the ground as she searches youtube on the huge sort of screen that has appeared in the dream. Yup. That really happened. But it was over really quickly.
While it felt as if she was looking for someone, I don't think it was anyone specific. All I know is that she reaches a farmland area and finds a family that takes her in. She must be in the north by then as they're white but still happy to take her in provided that she helps with the farm. But they didn't quite realise that she and one of their two teenage sons fell in love as soon as they locked eyes with one another (my dreams are so romantic when they're not actually about me). When this was discovered I think there were a looot of difficult situations, but at the same time I think they either ran away or worked it out with the boy's parents somehow, because they had two children (or more). I don't think they got married or anything, though, that seems unlikely.
2. I have a very brief dream (or part of one), and I actually think it was in black and white which would make it the first dream I've had that was, where a black woman in her twenties gets a job in an office. I think it's the 50s or 60s and it *might* be for a news paper. She loves to write.
3. I'm another woman. She's in her early twenties, and she's Swedish. I think this is the one I "really" am in the dream. She goes to uni in Gothenburg and she's the one who either read the first dream in diary notes (or something) - or dreamt it (ugh, I hope not. People with "supernatural" dreams are soo not welcome in my dreams). What I do know is that despite being a typically Swedish-looking woman (yup, I was all blond in my dream - yuck!) she is the descendant of that girl who ran away.
Gothenburg Uni has just acquired a guest scholar for the year, a writer and literature professor who is well-known and well-respected all over the world. She's an African-American woman who worked her way through college and started writing something like fourty years ago - and the young woman I am in this dream is very confident that she is also a descendant of the woman I have diary entries from. Or maybe they're letters? Either way, she wants to talk to this literature professor and has gone to campus very early in the morning, having heard that the professor comes in at 7:30 every day. On her way there she encounters other students (a couple of which are real people I knew in Linköping), including a guy with an Iron Maiden t-shirt who supposedly had lost a lot of weight and had originally weighed just over a tonne (which for some reason was unlikely - but definitely possible in this dream). These people were still partying from last night. For some reason some of them are singing a Porcupine Tree song while drinking cheap beer.
The young woman finds the literature building where cleaners have started their work day and she's looking at a list of employees and offices, trying to find the right one. I don't know if she finds it because this is where I wake up.
There was a lot more to this dream, but... You know how it works.
If I were to hazard a guess as to what this dream stems from I think it's the conversation I had with Tengil (or Torbjörn, which apparently is his real name! (;-P ) the other day about everyone knowing each other in seven steps and everyone being 50th cousin or less with one another. That, and talking about Gothenburg Uni with Emy yesterday.
Tuesday 27 January 2009
Saturday 17 January 2009
The Dream of January 17
This is getting ridiculous. I'm having really complicated dreams every night and now they've taken a turn for the possible crime-of-the-century-film-script-type. Right now, though, I am beyond angry with myself for forgetting so much of this one in the process of waking up. I SWEAR to you that I knew every detail of this well-thought out crime as I discovered it and began to piece the story together for my mum as we alerted the police.
Of course, there are some oddities in it too, things that don't make sense. Towards the end, over a period of probably ten minutes, I manage to walk through three completely different types of environment at different times of day.
Awww, fuck. I'm still angry with myself. I was trying to run through the dream again and I can think of a few "small" things that happened, that became important, but I can't remember how they happened, which would be important for the character who did them all. Crap. Oh well, here we go:
Our neighbour, a little old lady, had moved out or died (there was a little old lady there a couple of years ago, who's since moved out and been replaced by a young man). A woman came to live there instead. She gave us sort of her life-story, I think. About how she was from Belarus and was now looking for a new start here. I think she might've been in a relationship with a Swedish man and had moved in on her own to learn Swedish better before getting to know his young daughter...
The trouble here is... One day she just upped and left, and another woman of similar age (about 35-40) moved in instead. This one was also from an Eastern European country, and we got to know her and her life-story too. And I may be mixing them up a bit. But that's not really important. What does change with the second one, though, is that she stays longer and we get to know her better (there are also dream-oddities such as her living next door but somehow still living in our flat and keeping her dog here. I think I woke up one day to find her and her dog in my room and that's how we were introduced. The dog was a bearded collie, like Yatzty, btw, but less cute).
Anyway. We get to know her quite well and she gets to borrow my mobile, my mum's car, amongst other things. I think she brings me on shopping trips and stuff... I've no idea why I went with her. But over the months she becomes very close to us.
Then, at some point. I go on a trip or something. And I *think* I'm on a ferry or something. I'm definitely on a transport that allows me to, without too much trouble, get into the cargo area. That being said, I may not have been allowed there, but I got in nonetheless.
A few things have now happened, but it's all so faded that I can't tell you how.
1. A bank, or something, has been robbed of a huge amount of money.
2. My mum's car has been stolen.
3. Our neighbour has mysteriously disappeared.
Now, clearly, when reading this it's not hard to connect the three, but in the dream no one had any idea that any of these things could be connected to one another.
So, I find this cargo area. And when I get in there I see a lot of like... bikes and skiis and things. And my mum's car in the corner. Our neighbour is painting it. She's painting one side of it white, while leaving the "details" black. On the other side the "details" are becoming white. Don't ask me the purpose of this yin and yang design - but believe me when I say that, much like every other detail in this dream, it had a purpose. Not only that, but I figured out the purpose of it towards the end.
For some reason, I leave. I think I somehow make it back as we approach our destination (which is still Sweden for some reason) and I see two men in matching overalls and similar backpacks doing some type of work down there. They finish up and they put everything they had to move back in its place as they head off.
Somewhere along the way I've seen our neighbour with a man in a very nice suit. He's roughly 50-55 years old and has a beard. That's all I can tell you really. Well, that and the fact that he's just pulled off the greatest bank job in history. Somehow, I work this out as the two men in overalls leave, because something they've been doing made me put the final pieces of the puzzle together and I've now figured out every detail in their complicated scheme.
But I can't call and tell someone from there, because my neighbour had done something to my phone when she borrowed it, which I now discover. I can't alert anyone else on the ship (or ferry or whatever) because the two "workers" have been meticulous in putting all the bikes and things back in a way that adds another five minutes to my getting-out-of-there-time.
We finally reach land and I'm running down a wooden staircase of some sort to get to the harbour. In it I encounter a guy who's so drunk his nose and mouth are both bleeding (yes, it really was due to the alcohol for some reason). He's clearly not in any position to take care of himself and I stop as he says something drunkenly (I may have madet that word up) to me.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," I say, considering to get him help before I do anything else.
"It's OK, I'm keeping an eye on him," says a guy I know from a forum, except I can't remember who it is. Someone I've never met but respect. And for some reason, in the dream, I know I've seen him with equally drunk friends before and I think to myself that he ought to get new friends. At this point it's late at night and it's pitch black outside, except the night is lit up by millions of lights in a city that seems very big.
I venture on, and manage to phone my mum form my mobile, at last, telling her, without getting into detail, what I've discovered. She sighs and is very troubled by it. I ask her if I should find a police officer downtown and she says that there's no need as she'll phone Kerstin (I don't know if this is a Kerstin we actually know and what she's expected to be able to do about it, but...). Now, it's daytime and I'm on a street here in Jönköping.
A few minutes pass and I phone her back again, asking if she's done it. She says she hasn't, yet, and I sigh at her, knowing she's sneaked out for a cigarette rather than phoned. We hang up, and I walk the last few steps up a grassy slope, where I'm following two police officers I've just spotted, to talk to them about this whole thing. Just as I reach the top of it I see two small wolfish animals lurking about. They're at a bit of a distance from one another, and things now turn very WoW as I guess I step into the aggro range of one of them and it attacks me. I shout for help, hoping the police officers will hear me. A woman, close by does and attempts to help me, but gets in the aggro range of the other one instead. The police officers come running and I manage to free myself of the jaws of the wolf-like creature and throw it a few feet to my right, where it's been shot by one of them before it even hits the ground. Then they kill the other one too, and I can finally begin to tell them my story of the crime of the century...
...of which I've now forgotten all the interesting twists, and details. Bugger. And it was soo much longer than I've made it seem here, there was so much more to it. I'm reeeaaally annoyed.
For what it's worth, I felt very clever just when I worked it out in the dream.
Of course, there are some oddities in it too, things that don't make sense. Towards the end, over a period of probably ten minutes, I manage to walk through three completely different types of environment at different times of day.
Awww, fuck. I'm still angry with myself. I was trying to run through the dream again and I can think of a few "small" things that happened, that became important, but I can't remember how they happened, which would be important for the character who did them all. Crap. Oh well, here we go:
Our neighbour, a little old lady, had moved out or died (there was a little old lady there a couple of years ago, who's since moved out and been replaced by a young man). A woman came to live there instead. She gave us sort of her life-story, I think. About how she was from Belarus and was now looking for a new start here. I think she might've been in a relationship with a Swedish man and had moved in on her own to learn Swedish better before getting to know his young daughter...
The trouble here is... One day she just upped and left, and another woman of similar age (about 35-40) moved in instead. This one was also from an Eastern European country, and we got to know her and her life-story too. And I may be mixing them up a bit. But that's not really important. What does change with the second one, though, is that she stays longer and we get to know her better (there are also dream-oddities such as her living next door but somehow still living in our flat and keeping her dog here. I think I woke up one day to find her and her dog in my room and that's how we were introduced. The dog was a bearded collie, like Yatzty, btw, but less cute).
Anyway. We get to know her quite well and she gets to borrow my mobile, my mum's car, amongst other things. I think she brings me on shopping trips and stuff... I've no idea why I went with her. But over the months she becomes very close to us.
Then, at some point. I go on a trip or something. And I *think* I'm on a ferry or something. I'm definitely on a transport that allows me to, without too much trouble, get into the cargo area. That being said, I may not have been allowed there, but I got in nonetheless.
A few things have now happened, but it's all so faded that I can't tell you how.
1. A bank, or something, has been robbed of a huge amount of money.
2. My mum's car has been stolen.
3. Our neighbour has mysteriously disappeared.
Now, clearly, when reading this it's not hard to connect the three, but in the dream no one had any idea that any of these things could be connected to one another.
So, I find this cargo area. And when I get in there I see a lot of like... bikes and skiis and things. And my mum's car in the corner. Our neighbour is painting it. She's painting one side of it white, while leaving the "details" black. On the other side the "details" are becoming white. Don't ask me the purpose of this yin and yang design - but believe me when I say that, much like every other detail in this dream, it had a purpose. Not only that, but I figured out the purpose of it towards the end.
For some reason, I leave. I think I somehow make it back as we approach our destination (which is still Sweden for some reason) and I see two men in matching overalls and similar backpacks doing some type of work down there. They finish up and they put everything they had to move back in its place as they head off.
Somewhere along the way I've seen our neighbour with a man in a very nice suit. He's roughly 50-55 years old and has a beard. That's all I can tell you really. Well, that and the fact that he's just pulled off the greatest bank job in history. Somehow, I work this out as the two men in overalls leave, because something they've been doing made me put the final pieces of the puzzle together and I've now figured out every detail in their complicated scheme.
But I can't call and tell someone from there, because my neighbour had done something to my phone when she borrowed it, which I now discover. I can't alert anyone else on the ship (or ferry or whatever) because the two "workers" have been meticulous in putting all the bikes and things back in a way that adds another five minutes to my getting-out-of-there-time.
We finally reach land and I'm running down a wooden staircase of some sort to get to the harbour. In it I encounter a guy who's so drunk his nose and mouth are both bleeding (yes, it really was due to the alcohol for some reason). He's clearly not in any position to take care of himself and I stop as he says something drunkenly (I may have madet that word up) to me.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," I say, considering to get him help before I do anything else.
"It's OK, I'm keeping an eye on him," says a guy I know from a forum, except I can't remember who it is. Someone I've never met but respect. And for some reason, in the dream, I know I've seen him with equally drunk friends before and I think to myself that he ought to get new friends. At this point it's late at night and it's pitch black outside, except the night is lit up by millions of lights in a city that seems very big.
I venture on, and manage to phone my mum form my mobile, at last, telling her, without getting into detail, what I've discovered. She sighs and is very troubled by it. I ask her if I should find a police officer downtown and she says that there's no need as she'll phone Kerstin (I don't know if this is a Kerstin we actually know and what she's expected to be able to do about it, but...). Now, it's daytime and I'm on a street here in Jönköping.
A few minutes pass and I phone her back again, asking if she's done it. She says she hasn't, yet, and I sigh at her, knowing she's sneaked out for a cigarette rather than phoned. We hang up, and I walk the last few steps up a grassy slope, where I'm following two police officers I've just spotted, to talk to them about this whole thing. Just as I reach the top of it I see two small wolfish animals lurking about. They're at a bit of a distance from one another, and things now turn very WoW as I guess I step into the aggro range of one of them and it attacks me. I shout for help, hoping the police officers will hear me. A woman, close by does and attempts to help me, but gets in the aggro range of the other one instead. The police officers come running and I manage to free myself of the jaws of the wolf-like creature and throw it a few feet to my right, where it's been shot by one of them before it even hits the ground. Then they kill the other one too, and I can finally begin to tell them my story of the crime of the century...
...of which I've now forgotten all the interesting twists, and details. Bugger. And it was soo much longer than I've made it seem here, there was so much more to it. I'm reeeaaally annoyed.
For what it's worth, I felt very clever just when I worked it out in the dream.
Friday 16 January 2009
The Dream of January 16
I've been watching several episodes of Prison Break every day recently, since I fell in love with it after Gustav told me to watch it. Then, yesterday, I didn't watch any. When I normally would've been watching PB I was on the Improv Everywhere website. I LOVE those marvellous people. Honestly, with stuff like Gaza going down they sort of restore my faith in mankind. It sounds corny, and exaggerated, but it's true.
Anyway. So not the point. I didn't watch any and it resulted in the following dream (sadly, lots of it's faded, which is a shame, because I'm fairly certain there was a storyline worthy of a film in there):
The first bit I can remember isn't set in present-day time. It's probably the 1930s, from what I can gather of clothes and cars. I'm watching this as if it's a film, I'm not actually there.
Someone, who looks like a cross between Edward Norton and Wentworth Miller (the Prison Break guy), gets out of a car in front of a building. It's dark and rainy outside. He has a compress or something stuck to the right side of his neck. No bandage going around his neck, just that white patch (let's not get into how it's staying there, I realise they probably didn't have that medical tape-stuff back then, but this is my dream, and that's what it looked like).
He enters the building into something that'e either a small restaurant or a shop of some sort. There's a younger man, late teens - early twenties, inside, who's got his back turned to the man who just walked in (facing the "camera" which is now at the back of the room).
They start talking about the woman who owns the place they're in. She's the mother of the younger man and has apparently just ended up in hospital. The man with the compress asks how she's doing and the younger man says she's going to be all right, but is quite badly hurt. It's unclear what her injuries are, but from further conversation it becomes clear that she was meeting someone earlier that night and they hurt her. It's implied that she was somewhat involved in something illegal and a deal went wrong. The younger man turns around to face the other. He looks at him, silently, for a few seconds. The Norton-esque man says that they will find whoever did that to his mother and take care of it. He asks if she said anything about the person, and the younger man says she was very confused and nearly unconscious.
"She did tell me one thing, though... She managed to injure him before he attacked her."
The other man nods, completely unfazed.
"That's good. That is really good, now we know what to look for."
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
The patch-man's face darkens, and he knows he's been caught.
"No. That's why I hate having to do this."
I don't find out what he had to do, but I think we can assume the younger man doesn't make it out of there.
The next parts I remember are set in modern times. The same man as in the previous dream (although he's looking more like Wentworth Miller and less like Edward Norton now) is in jail, and so am I. The trouble from here on in is that I can only remember bits and pieces, which is a shame as I can sort of recall things I have trouble describing and had I been able to, and piece those things together with one another, I think it would've been a cool story.
This man is the brains in that prison. He's the one people turn to when they need something - those who dare to. I know him better than anyone in there, but not enough to really know him, and not enough to not be surprised at the brilliant schemes he puts into place.
I'm struggling to remember these schemes, but the only one that immediately springs to mind is one where he got a fellow prisoner back some of his personal things, like a watch and his keys and stuff. I remember watching the man get his stuff back from the top bunk. My genius friend/boyfriend/whatever has put them in a pair of trousers and handed those to the man who wanted his things back, saying "you might want to change your trousers". Apparently the other man didn't quite know how many things he could really get back since he starts laughing as he puts his hands in the pockets and says something about Norton-Miller-esque man really being "something".
I think we're in a room with two bunkbeds placed alongside one wall. Below me is where my friend sleeps, in one of the other beds (probably the bottom one) is where trouser-man sleeps. And the other one must belong to Kit, because at some point she is teasing me about having so many different tops there. Apparently we get to wear our own clothes, at least on the upper body. And as I feel my face flush and I stutter something about just having four or five, in my dream I recall that my mum (who apparently visited me a lot) had brought a few and I was probably up to about seven or eight. Kit smiles condescendingly at me as she tells me that she has four and I have more than she does.
There's another instance in which my brilliant bunk-buddy has given me something that I think is a kind of mp3-player, only it's much larger and heavier. It's sort of shaped like a half circle and probably two inches thick, and thirteen inches along the "diameter" (it's not really a diameter since it's not a full circle, I guess). There are these things on it... Like little clamps or something, and when I remove them, music seems to flow out through them, as if they're headphones or something. I manage to connect my proper headphones to the thing before anyone hears the noise it's making.
That's all I remember before the scene where I've been released but I'm still helping out my friend who's back there. I'm on my way down a hill in a place here in Jönköping, that apparently leads from the prison. Suddenly, there's a man waiting for me. It's the former prime minister, Göran Persson, and apparently he knows I'm up to something with my friend and for some reason that's his business (as if he was with the police or something).
I think I'm out for a jog or something, but I've slowed down to a walk to talk to him. Then, from my headphone, the intro to Opeth's The Drapery Falls kicks off and I start jogging. So does he. When we reach the point the distorted guitars start playing he starts to run at full speed and I struggle to keep up. We reach the bottom of the hill and there, behind a fence, is my friend Louise (Swedish one, not English). It seems I'm still inside the prison grounds, so I guess I haven't been released, as I thought when the scene started. She looks surprised at seeing Göran there but greets him. I'm sure we have something to do with "business" to talk about and I think we manage to, once he leaves.
That's all I remember!
(And I can now add Göran Persson to my list of politicians I've done unexpected things in dreams with. Running with him is almost as strange as that dream I had a few years ago where I built flats for the homeless inside a castle on a cliff with Thomas Bodström.)
Anyway. So not the point. I didn't watch any and it resulted in the following dream (sadly, lots of it's faded, which is a shame, because I'm fairly certain there was a storyline worthy of a film in there):
The first bit I can remember isn't set in present-day time. It's probably the 1930s, from what I can gather of clothes and cars. I'm watching this as if it's a film, I'm not actually there.
Someone, who looks like a cross between Edward Norton and Wentworth Miller (the Prison Break guy), gets out of a car in front of a building. It's dark and rainy outside. He has a compress or something stuck to the right side of his neck. No bandage going around his neck, just that white patch (let's not get into how it's staying there, I realise they probably didn't have that medical tape-stuff back then, but this is my dream, and that's what it looked like).
He enters the building into something that'e either a small restaurant or a shop of some sort. There's a younger man, late teens - early twenties, inside, who's got his back turned to the man who just walked in (facing the "camera" which is now at the back of the room).
They start talking about the woman who owns the place they're in. She's the mother of the younger man and has apparently just ended up in hospital. The man with the compress asks how she's doing and the younger man says she's going to be all right, but is quite badly hurt. It's unclear what her injuries are, but from further conversation it becomes clear that she was meeting someone earlier that night and they hurt her. It's implied that she was somewhat involved in something illegal and a deal went wrong. The younger man turns around to face the other. He looks at him, silently, for a few seconds. The Norton-esque man says that they will find whoever did that to his mother and take care of it. He asks if she said anything about the person, and the younger man says she was very confused and nearly unconscious.
"She did tell me one thing, though... She managed to injure him before he attacked her."
The other man nods, completely unfazed.
"That's good. That is really good, now we know what to look for."
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
The patch-man's face darkens, and he knows he's been caught.
"No. That's why I hate having to do this."
I don't find out what he had to do, but I think we can assume the younger man doesn't make it out of there.
The next parts I remember are set in modern times. The same man as in the previous dream (although he's looking more like Wentworth Miller and less like Edward Norton now) is in jail, and so am I. The trouble from here on in is that I can only remember bits and pieces, which is a shame as I can sort of recall things I have trouble describing and had I been able to, and piece those things together with one another, I think it would've been a cool story.
This man is the brains in that prison. He's the one people turn to when they need something - those who dare to. I know him better than anyone in there, but not enough to really know him, and not enough to not be surprised at the brilliant schemes he puts into place.
I'm struggling to remember these schemes, but the only one that immediately springs to mind is one where he got a fellow prisoner back some of his personal things, like a watch and his keys and stuff. I remember watching the man get his stuff back from the top bunk. My genius friend/boyfriend/whatever has put them in a pair of trousers and handed those to the man who wanted his things back, saying "you might want to change your trousers". Apparently the other man didn't quite know how many things he could really get back since he starts laughing as he puts his hands in the pockets and says something about Norton-Miller-esque man really being "something".
I think we're in a room with two bunkbeds placed alongside one wall. Below me is where my friend sleeps, in one of the other beds (probably the bottom one) is where trouser-man sleeps. And the other one must belong to Kit, because at some point she is teasing me about having so many different tops there. Apparently we get to wear our own clothes, at least on the upper body. And as I feel my face flush and I stutter something about just having four or five, in my dream I recall that my mum (who apparently visited me a lot) had brought a few and I was probably up to about seven or eight. Kit smiles condescendingly at me as she tells me that she has four and I have more than she does.
There's another instance in which my brilliant bunk-buddy has given me something that I think is a kind of mp3-player, only it's much larger and heavier. It's sort of shaped like a half circle and probably two inches thick, and thirteen inches along the "diameter" (it's not really a diameter since it's not a full circle, I guess). There are these things on it... Like little clamps or something, and when I remove them, music seems to flow out through them, as if they're headphones or something. I manage to connect my proper headphones to the thing before anyone hears the noise it's making.
That's all I remember before the scene where I've been released but I'm still helping out my friend who's back there. I'm on my way down a hill in a place here in Jönköping, that apparently leads from the prison. Suddenly, there's a man waiting for me. It's the former prime minister, Göran Persson, and apparently he knows I'm up to something with my friend and for some reason that's his business (as if he was with the police or something).
I think I'm out for a jog or something, but I've slowed down to a walk to talk to him. Then, from my headphone, the intro to Opeth's The Drapery Falls kicks off and I start jogging. So does he. When we reach the point the distorted guitars start playing he starts to run at full speed and I struggle to keep up. We reach the bottom of the hill and there, behind a fence, is my friend Louise (Swedish one, not English). It seems I'm still inside the prison grounds, so I guess I haven't been released, as I thought when the scene started. She looks surprised at seeing Göran there but greets him. I'm sure we have something to do with "business" to talk about and I think we manage to, once he leaves.
That's all I remember!
(And I can now add Göran Persson to my list of politicians I've done unexpected things in dreams with. Running with him is almost as strange as that dream I had a few years ago where I built flats for the homeless inside a castle on a cliff with Thomas Bodström.)
Thursday 15 January 2009
The Dream of January 15
I'm not sure how it started, really. I just know that suddenly I was doing some kind of art class thing with a former teacher of mine (well, she was a former teacher of mine in the dream and while I can think of a few ones I've had that she bore some resemblance to, she's not real).
Now, this woman was a bit... eccentric. I was well aware that she had some mental issues, but she was widely considered a brilliant artist.
For some reason, I could actually paint a little in this dream. I'd like to stress that it was still only a little, but you could actually see what I was trying to paint. And in this dream I was painting a picture of a woman behind a window. Or three windows, actually. It was the windows of my room in Ryd (which, now that I think of, I realise that I haven't been thinking of and that I miss terribly). Two large windows on either side of a much smaller one whose purpose was to ensure that one could air out the room without having a huge window taking up all the space of the room (yes, they're *that* big and they open in). Anyways, my picture depicted a woman standing in front of the tiny one, so you couldn't see her arms, because they were hidden by the blinds of the two other windows. She was wearing a white dress so what I was trying to do was to paint the center of the painting white and the sides of it a grey colour. And I was trying to do this by means of the huge mass of grey colour that was on the table. Really, it was like... a spectrum of shades of grey, similar in texture and density to mashed potatoes. Not that easy to paint with!
I was struggling with that and the teacher kept telling me what to do and acting all strange. My mood was not the best. And the room was full of girls who all worshipped that teacher. After giving up on my painting, which had turned into a grey mesh, the teacher started showing me pictures of her former students and what they'd done. I think there was more to that than just the art-stuff, but I can't remember what... When she finally left me alone I excused myself to the teacher's less peculiar assistant and said I'd just get some fresh air.
Outside, I started walking around an area that looked a lot like parts of Öxnehaga, where I spent about nine years of my childhood. And apparently, it was spring. I was surprised to find flowers on the ground and decided to pick some for my mother on my way home. As I was walking around I became less interested in the idea of going back into the art class, but I had something that belonged to the teacher and I'd have to give it back. So I headed for my old high school (which was not where it's supposed to be) to put it in her mailbox-thingie there.
Once inside, I realised that it looked nothing like it had before. Visitors had to tell a receptionist of some sort why they were there, rather than just walk in and do what they needed to do. I managed to tell him I was going to drop something off for a teacher and he waved me along. There were these glass display cases along the walls of the corridors and I was looking at one when a door opened and a former teacher of mine and the computer tech guy walked out. For some reason the computer tech guy was wearing a beret.
I soon realised that the teachers' mailboxes were no longer where they used to be and asked another teacher where they were. She asked me who I was looking for and I struggled to remember the art teacher's name. Christina was her first name, and her last name had the German letter ü in it. I guessed a name and it must've been quite close because she took the thing I was dropping off for me and disappeared. While I still can't recall what that was it was something small, and heavy. Possibly metal.
Now that I was there and had nothing better to do I started looking around and suddenly found myself in a place that smelled of leather and sold handbags. I was just beginning to wonder what the school council was thinking, putting a shop like that inside the school, when three girls I knew turned up. One of them showed off a bag she'd just bought (it was pretty much as ugly as all the rest of the ones in the shop - and how the hell can "bag designer" be a real job anyway?), and the other two seemed very envious of that bag. They started asking me questions about what I was doing now and why I was at the school when suddenly one of the girls found a tiny bag that had already been purchased. It had a sticker on it as if it were supposed to be checked in for a flight and there was a boarding pass inside it.
"Ha! And I didn't even have to pay for mine!" said the girl.
I was horrified, there was a boarding pass with a name on it and a flight to Hannover that wasn't going to leave for another 45 minutes - ample time to make sure it got back to its owner. I can't recall if I took the bag from her to give back or just left because I was angry, but here's where it gets weird. Just as I'm leaving, a pet of one of the girls appears that I'm sure I knew was there all along and didn't think anything of. It sticks its head inside my shoe, trying to keep me from leaving. I try to get it out, but it's really staying in there and it turns into a thing where all the girls have to help get it loose and restrain it so that I can leave.
So, what was this creature of doom, you ask?
A hen.
Right, so that's all I remember from that dream. I do recall that, just as I was waking up (presumably a while later) I was suddenly very much under the impression that it was January 30th, that the next day I'd be going to Ryd to move the last of the stuff and clean out the room - realising that they expect the keys to be handed in by noon and that we wouldn't manage that. It was quite a relief to wake up properly and remember that I'd already moved.
Now, this woman was a bit... eccentric. I was well aware that she had some mental issues, but she was widely considered a brilliant artist.
For some reason, I could actually paint a little in this dream. I'd like to stress that it was still only a little, but you could actually see what I was trying to paint. And in this dream I was painting a picture of a woman behind a window. Or three windows, actually. It was the windows of my room in Ryd (which, now that I think of, I realise that I haven't been thinking of and that I miss terribly). Two large windows on either side of a much smaller one whose purpose was to ensure that one could air out the room without having a huge window taking up all the space of the room (yes, they're *that* big and they open in). Anyways, my picture depicted a woman standing in front of the tiny one, so you couldn't see her arms, because they were hidden by the blinds of the two other windows. She was wearing a white dress so what I was trying to do was to paint the center of the painting white and the sides of it a grey colour. And I was trying to do this by means of the huge mass of grey colour that was on the table. Really, it was like... a spectrum of shades of grey, similar in texture and density to mashed potatoes. Not that easy to paint with!
I was struggling with that and the teacher kept telling me what to do and acting all strange. My mood was not the best. And the room was full of girls who all worshipped that teacher. After giving up on my painting, which had turned into a grey mesh, the teacher started showing me pictures of her former students and what they'd done. I think there was more to that than just the art-stuff, but I can't remember what... When she finally left me alone I excused myself to the teacher's less peculiar assistant and said I'd just get some fresh air.
Outside, I started walking around an area that looked a lot like parts of Öxnehaga, where I spent about nine years of my childhood. And apparently, it was spring. I was surprised to find flowers on the ground and decided to pick some for my mother on my way home. As I was walking around I became less interested in the idea of going back into the art class, but I had something that belonged to the teacher and I'd have to give it back. So I headed for my old high school (which was not where it's supposed to be) to put it in her mailbox-thingie there.
Once inside, I realised that it looked nothing like it had before. Visitors had to tell a receptionist of some sort why they were there, rather than just walk in and do what they needed to do. I managed to tell him I was going to drop something off for a teacher and he waved me along. There were these glass display cases along the walls of the corridors and I was looking at one when a door opened and a former teacher of mine and the computer tech guy walked out. For some reason the computer tech guy was wearing a beret.
I soon realised that the teachers' mailboxes were no longer where they used to be and asked another teacher where they were. She asked me who I was looking for and I struggled to remember the art teacher's name. Christina was her first name, and her last name had the German letter ü in it. I guessed a name and it must've been quite close because she took the thing I was dropping off for me and disappeared. While I still can't recall what that was it was something small, and heavy. Possibly metal.
Now that I was there and had nothing better to do I started looking around and suddenly found myself in a place that smelled of leather and sold handbags. I was just beginning to wonder what the school council was thinking, putting a shop like that inside the school, when three girls I knew turned up. One of them showed off a bag she'd just bought (it was pretty much as ugly as all the rest of the ones in the shop - and how the hell can "bag designer" be a real job anyway?), and the other two seemed very envious of that bag. They started asking me questions about what I was doing now and why I was at the school when suddenly one of the girls found a tiny bag that had already been purchased. It had a sticker on it as if it were supposed to be checked in for a flight and there was a boarding pass inside it.
"Ha! And I didn't even have to pay for mine!" said the girl.
I was horrified, there was a boarding pass with a name on it and a flight to Hannover that wasn't going to leave for another 45 minutes - ample time to make sure it got back to its owner. I can't recall if I took the bag from her to give back or just left because I was angry, but here's where it gets weird. Just as I'm leaving, a pet of one of the girls appears that I'm sure I knew was there all along and didn't think anything of. It sticks its head inside my shoe, trying to keep me from leaving. I try to get it out, but it's really staying in there and it turns into a thing where all the girls have to help get it loose and restrain it so that I can leave.
So, what was this creature of doom, you ask?
A hen.
Right, so that's all I remember from that dream. I do recall that, just as I was waking up (presumably a while later) I was suddenly very much under the impression that it was January 30th, that the next day I'd be going to Ryd to move the last of the stuff and clean out the room - realising that they expect the keys to be handed in by noon and that we wouldn't manage that. It was quite a relief to wake up properly and remember that I'd already moved.
Wednesday 14 January 2009
The Dreams of January 14
The first dream was odd, but not very frightening. I remember bits and pieces of it. One bit was be being on some kind of a shuttle bus to and from the delivery ward of a hospital. My friend Louise (from Jönköping) got on and waved to me, she was working there and took that bus every day, but for some reason we didn't sit together.
At one point we passed these two people standing by the bus stop, a very pregnant woman and a man. And somehow I knew these were the people I was waiting for. The woman was a sister I'd just found out I had, named Elisabeth. I'm struggling to remember who told me about her, while I'm fairly confident it was my mum who told me when we were sitting in a café (having "fika", for those who've been learning new words recently)*, the reason I have to think about it is that I'm quite certain my father was still alive in this dream. Odd. **
Anyway, Elisabeth and her boyfriend didn't get on the bus. But a few minutes later the driver was contacted over the radio and told to go back and pick up some people he'd left behind. Then he took like... Every possible wrong turn back, making the journey unnecessarily long. At this point I was standing next to him, trying to give directions to the thickest man in the world. When he finally got it sorted I must've gone back to my seat, because when my sister stepped onto the bus, she sat down in front of me. I spoke to her.
"Elisabeth? I'm your sister."
I don't remember anything beyond that point. [cue dramatic music]
*From what I remember of this, because it did take place sometime prior to the busride but still within the same dream, we were on... something like an El-train that stopped at a café and you pressed a button or something to leave because I remember my mum having us transported to our next stop before I had a say in it. They were handing out free biscuits and I wanted to take some and bring home and I didn't get a chance to. I was very upset with my mother. (;-)
**What's even more odd is that I have a vague recollection of my mum and I walking around and my mother saying some horrible things that can not be described as anything other than racist. I think there was a discussion about a hockey team I was on (stop laughing, it could happen! ...if I somehow magically gained the ability to keep my balance on a pair of skates) and she made a accusation about something someone on the team had done to a black player. It was along the lines of "Was it that Africa over here?" in a very disdainful voice.
Most peculiar. I've never actually heard my mum say anything racist so I don't quite know where this came from.
Right. Dream No 2.
The first thing I remember is sitting on one of the sofas in my living room. I get the sense that I hadn't been there for a while, so perhaps I'd recently moved back (much like in real life) and I was having dinner (some sort of pasta) with someone who most certainly doesn't live here. I can't recall who it was, but it's someone young and female.
I said something about leaving leftovers out.
"Oh, anything we leave out here won't be here for long," she said.
"Why not?"
"Rats. Huge, huge rats."
"We've never had rats, we've never had anything even remotely alive besides family, pets and the occasional flying insect in the summer."
"We do now."
And soon enough, a rat the size of my forearm appeared on the table. I decided that my flat is not to be taken over by rats while I'm around and I knocked the pasta out of a pot I felt was sufficiently heavy and I started beating the rat, hoping to manage to kill it despite its size. And I was victorious.
However, soon enough, another rat appeared. It was much, much bigger. Like... Dachshund-size. The other girl said something about this being a male one, but despite the fact that I clearly thought "Aren't the female rats larger?" in my dream, I didn't say a word.
I realised that beating this thing to death with a pot wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world so I decided to try to scare it out of the flat and call someone who could deal with it. Somehow, it worked. The giant rat was moving towards the door, and I followed it from a safe distance. The odd thing (apart from its size, that is) was that it appeared to be gliding, rather than running the way rats do. And I swear it got even bigger from the time it left the sitting room table to the time it reached the door. Before we'd turned the corner I'd thought that I'd have to get really close to it to open the door and chase it out, but once we did I'd realised that the door had no lock, just a gaping hole, and the rat got up on its hind legs and put it's front...paw, or whatever, inside the missing lock and just pushed the door open. I closed the door behind it and went back to the sitting room. After I'd sat down I realised that the pasta I'd knocked out of the pot was already gone. A moment later, another rat - the size of the first one - appeared and as I raised the pot again I woke up.
Since I sat down here, I haven't put my feet down on the floor once. I'll have to now, though, I need some chocolatey milk to calm my nerves.
At one point we passed these two people standing by the bus stop, a very pregnant woman and a man. And somehow I knew these were the people I was waiting for. The woman was a sister I'd just found out I had, named Elisabeth. I'm struggling to remember who told me about her, while I'm fairly confident it was my mum who told me when we were sitting in a café (having "fika", for those who've been learning new words recently)*, the reason I have to think about it is that I'm quite certain my father was still alive in this dream. Odd. **
Anyway, Elisabeth and her boyfriend didn't get on the bus. But a few minutes later the driver was contacted over the radio and told to go back and pick up some people he'd left behind. Then he took like... Every possible wrong turn back, making the journey unnecessarily long. At this point I was standing next to him, trying to give directions to the thickest man in the world. When he finally got it sorted I must've gone back to my seat, because when my sister stepped onto the bus, she sat down in front of me. I spoke to her.
"Elisabeth? I'm your sister."
I don't remember anything beyond that point. [cue dramatic music]
*From what I remember of this, because it did take place sometime prior to the busride but still within the same dream, we were on... something like an El-train that stopped at a café and you pressed a button or something to leave because I remember my mum having us transported to our next stop before I had a say in it. They were handing out free biscuits and I wanted to take some and bring home and I didn't get a chance to. I was very upset with my mother. (;-)
**What's even more odd is that I have a vague recollection of my mum and I walking around and my mother saying some horrible things that can not be described as anything other than racist. I think there was a discussion about a hockey team I was on (stop laughing, it could happen! ...if I somehow magically gained the ability to keep my balance on a pair of skates) and she made a accusation about something someone on the team had done to a black player. It was along the lines of "Was it that Africa over here?" in a very disdainful voice.
Most peculiar. I've never actually heard my mum say anything racist so I don't quite know where this came from.
Right. Dream No 2.
The first thing I remember is sitting on one of the sofas in my living room. I get the sense that I hadn't been there for a while, so perhaps I'd recently moved back (much like in real life) and I was having dinner (some sort of pasta) with someone who most certainly doesn't live here. I can't recall who it was, but it's someone young and female.
I said something about leaving leftovers out.
"Oh, anything we leave out here won't be here for long," she said.
"Why not?"
"Rats. Huge, huge rats."
"We've never had rats, we've never had anything even remotely alive besides family, pets and the occasional flying insect in the summer."
"We do now."
And soon enough, a rat the size of my forearm appeared on the table. I decided that my flat is not to be taken over by rats while I'm around and I knocked the pasta out of a pot I felt was sufficiently heavy and I started beating the rat, hoping to manage to kill it despite its size. And I was victorious.
However, soon enough, another rat appeared. It was much, much bigger. Like... Dachshund-size. The other girl said something about this being a male one, but despite the fact that I clearly thought "Aren't the female rats larger?" in my dream, I didn't say a word.
I realised that beating this thing to death with a pot wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world so I decided to try to scare it out of the flat and call someone who could deal with it. Somehow, it worked. The giant rat was moving towards the door, and I followed it from a safe distance. The odd thing (apart from its size, that is) was that it appeared to be gliding, rather than running the way rats do. And I swear it got even bigger from the time it left the sitting room table to the time it reached the door. Before we'd turned the corner I'd thought that I'd have to get really close to it to open the door and chase it out, but once we did I'd realised that the door had no lock, just a gaping hole, and the rat got up on its hind legs and put it's front...paw, or whatever, inside the missing lock and just pushed the door open. I closed the door behind it and went back to the sitting room. After I'd sat down I realised that the pasta I'd knocked out of the pot was already gone. A moment later, another rat - the size of the first one - appeared and as I raised the pot again I woke up.
Since I sat down here, I haven't put my feet down on the floor once. I'll have to now, though, I need some chocolatey milk to calm my nerves.
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