I'm sitting by my computer, except it's in my brother's room (which it was for a while after he moved out so we wouldn't have to keep a cord to the modem all the way through the flat), and I'm playing something that could be an odd dream version of the World of Warcraft, while keeping one eye on something on the telly, sort of (not literally, even though stranger things have happened in my dreams). There was a film or something on in a language I don't speak. Something east or south-European. A dark-haired woman wearing what looks to me like an 80s style blouse (in some odd white, grey and black pattern and a light material) - but the fashion of it could be older - is doing something by a wooden bench in an old cottage. I'm not sure if she's cooking or making something out of wood or what she's up to, but suddenly she looks out the window in front of her, pulls an angry face and darts out of the cottage very quickly. It's summer outside and she heads for an oak tree across the yard where chickens (well, they're hens, really) and little girls are running around. There's a bloody mess of feathers on the ground in one spot and further away is one of the girls, seemingly killing another chicken. The woman shouts at her, angrily, in that language I don't understand, but the subtitles tell me she's telling the girl off:
"What are you doing? You can't do that to the chickens! You all get out of here, now, run along with you!" She adds, to that girl who'd killed chickens: "And you go home and tell your parents what you've done!"
That's all I remember of the film. In the next part of the dream I'm still at the same comp, in the same room, but some of my brother's furniture have gone and a woman is standing next to me. It's job interview and I'm supposed to show her my Office skills or something. So I close down that game I've been playing and I attempt to start working but I get a weird error message saying F: (the DVD-burner/player is F: on my comp) has stopped working completely, and I think "Shit, that's not good, I can't play CDs now. But at least the one in there now is just the installation CD for the webcam." (this is true). And I press the button to push it out and remove the CD, but nothing happens and for some reason I have to get rid of it, so I just pull on it and the sort of "loading" thing for the discs just comes flying out as if it wasn't in any way connected to the rest of the DVD-burner. That, and the actual CD dart across the floor and there's a hideous odour of burning plastic. I decide to ignore it, given my ongoing interview and smile at the woman while thinking to myself that my brother's gonna kill me for the mess I've made of his room. In addition to the demolished bits of my computer I've got a little notepad and some little book-like things that look like instruction manuals for various components on his desk (other things too, but I can't recall what they were now).
The computer is locking up and I decide to reboot it, but when I do it loads up the game I was playing before and a lot of other things that have got nothing to do with what I'm supposed to be doing. I try to shut them down, but they start up again. I can feel panic setting in and I try rebooting it again, same thing. Now I'm at the point where I no longer care about the job interview, I just want to be rid of that stupid game and the other stuff that keeps loading and I just crash the computer manually and leave it off. But it boots itself and everything starts again. I crash it again and it starts on its own. This time I crash it and switch the power button in the back of it off, thinking that'll be the end of it. And it is... For a few seconds before it powers up again. I look at the power switch at the back and it's back into on-mode. I switch it off there instantly, not even bothering with the normal power-button thing at the front. And I watch as it slowly switches back into the "on"-position and starts up again.
Now, I can't quite recall what I do next. I know that I considered unplugging it and I might've done. But I might actually have gone nuts and bashed the entire computer up until I was sure it wouldn't magically reboot again.
Either way, at this point in the dream I know the computer isn't going to start up again, it's dead. It's early in the morning and my mum's just getting up. She asks me what I'm doing up that early and I just shrug, not wanting to explain the computer situation (the job interview woman is long gone, she must've left some time during my psychotic attempts to kill the computer). The last thing that happens is that I think:
"Oh no... that computer is never gonna work again. I'm computerless now, what's James going to say?"
At that point I woke up, feeling massively dehydrated.
Sunday 29 March 2009
The Dreams of March 28 and 26
I know I had two separate dreams this morning but the first one's the only one I can still remember something from.
I was at some sort of boarding school situated in the countryside with different buildings one had to go to. It was summer and I slowly made my way across the yard to the building I was supposed to be in next. There was an exam that day, but no one else seemed bothered by it.
So, I was alone, I got the feeling I was rarely anything else, and I sat on a bench underneath coat hangers in the entrance hall to that building. It reminded me of the place my music class in junior high was taught, but this place had stone walls and was more of an old manor type place than a mid-late 20th century building. I was in a grey school uniform, much like the others'. Then a man opened the door and came out and said a few words about the exam. He ended by making a comment about not having any expectations about me passing it, I had after all only been accepted because I was his granddaughter. Everyone giggled.
And yes, it was my grandfather who opened the door (paternal one), which is weird since he's never taught anything in his life as far as I know. And I guess it's easy to explain this as me having some kind of fear of disappointing people or something. I'm sure I do. I'm sure everyone does.
But there we were and we all went inside and sat down at these large wooden tables with our exams. There was a robot functioning as a servant gliding around from student to student offering them crushed ice, which, apparently, was useful in some way. Not sure which way.
..but if you've interpreted the first bit of this dream, what about the thing with the robot?
A couple of days ago I had a dream where Kit and I went to something that can only be referred to as a ski resort. But I don't recall seeing anyone skiing. In fact, what everyone seemed to be doing there was to ride these ski lift-type things downhill, really fast. Which seems like a lot more fun than actual skiing to me. The actual resort was more like an old castle, and it was cold, and the corridors had water dripping down the stone walls and stuff. And that's where most people had to live and sleep, 'cause apparently one always had to wait a few days for a room. But the rooms were more like medieval prison cells anyway, so it wasn't as if we were waiting for 5 star treatment.
We found a spot that had some light (from one of those torches sticking out from the wall that you always imagine old castles to have) and talked to this teenage boy who was nice.
The ski lift things sort of ran from the actual castle out into the snowy, hilly landscape around us. There were basically gaping holes in the walls where one climbed into an unsafe looking box, hanging from a wire stretching downhill, further than one could see. I remember getting into one to set off after having spent 24 hours guarding my spot on the floor of the corridor, but nothing after that. So I've no idea if it was cool. (:-P
I was at some sort of boarding school situated in the countryside with different buildings one had to go to. It was summer and I slowly made my way across the yard to the building I was supposed to be in next. There was an exam that day, but no one else seemed bothered by it.
So, I was alone, I got the feeling I was rarely anything else, and I sat on a bench underneath coat hangers in the entrance hall to that building. It reminded me of the place my music class in junior high was taught, but this place had stone walls and was more of an old manor type place than a mid-late 20th century building. I was in a grey school uniform, much like the others'. Then a man opened the door and came out and said a few words about the exam. He ended by making a comment about not having any expectations about me passing it, I had after all only been accepted because I was his granddaughter. Everyone giggled.
And yes, it was my grandfather who opened the door (paternal one), which is weird since he's never taught anything in his life as far as I know. And I guess it's easy to explain this as me having some kind of fear of disappointing people or something. I'm sure I do. I'm sure everyone does.
But there we were and we all went inside and sat down at these large wooden tables with our exams. There was a robot functioning as a servant gliding around from student to student offering them crushed ice, which, apparently, was useful in some way. Not sure which way.
..but if you've interpreted the first bit of this dream, what about the thing with the robot?
A couple of days ago I had a dream where Kit and I went to something that can only be referred to as a ski resort. But I don't recall seeing anyone skiing. In fact, what everyone seemed to be doing there was to ride these ski lift-type things downhill, really fast. Which seems like a lot more fun than actual skiing to me. The actual resort was more like an old castle, and it was cold, and the corridors had water dripping down the stone walls and stuff. And that's where most people had to live and sleep, 'cause apparently one always had to wait a few days for a room. But the rooms were more like medieval prison cells anyway, so it wasn't as if we were waiting for 5 star treatment.
We found a spot that had some light (from one of those torches sticking out from the wall that you always imagine old castles to have) and talked to this teenage boy who was nice.
The ski lift things sort of ran from the actual castle out into the snowy, hilly landscape around us. There were basically gaping holes in the walls where one climbed into an unsafe looking box, hanging from a wire stretching downhill, further than one could see. I remember getting into one to set off after having spent 24 hours guarding my spot on the floor of the corridor, but nothing after that. So I've no idea if it was cool. (:-P
Friday 27 March 2009
Out in the cold...
There aren't that many things I can pride myself on being great at. I'm one of those people who're anywhere from average to very good on a lot of things. But one of the things I definitely have a talent for is starting out in one place on the Internet and ending up somewhere completely different.
So, when I was poking around the website of major, Swedish daily Dagens Nyheter and stumbled across an article about the construction of this season's ice hotel in Jukkasjärvi it was really unevitable that I'd end up reading more about it. Ever since I first heard about that hotel a few years ago I've always found it intriguing on many levels. So, there I was, looking at all the different designs of this season's ice hotel when one room in particular made me halt, re-read the name of the room, tilt my head slightly as I made sure I wasn't imagining it, and finally giggling as I realised what the two designers had done with the room dubbed "Getting Cold Feet".
Reading about the designers I immediately became curious of the "masked" one known as INSA. Because artists who hide their identities tend to be graffiti artists and that's one of those areas of art that absolutely fascinates me but I know very little about (there are plenty of those areas, by the way, far more than someone who's studied art history and contemporary art for as long as I have should be allowed). So, I started looking for information on this guy (unless it's a woman who's taken a lot of trouble to cleverly hide her gender, in which case I apologise and say that I'm impressed) and there doesn't seem to be a wikipedia-page about him, go figure. I did find some articles though, and through them a link to the "official" (I so hate that word sometimes, but I suppose it's needed to sort out these little pages we call web) site.
Now. Someone who just gave INSA's work a quick glance might say it's just the work of some semi-perv wanting to gawk over half-naked women, but that's not it (or maybe that's some of it, but that's none of our business, really, and it's not of importance), there's much more to it than that. The use of the high-heeled shoe (sometimes with an accompaning leg and arse), which is a common representative of fetishes, is quite thought-provoking. In itself it's just a shoe. Depending on your disposition and feelings towards footwear that can make you think about fashion, footwear you might crave but can't really afford, Carrie Bradshaw half-running down a New York street, pin-up models, pornography or maybe how your wife spends far too much on shopping. But there is something these things have in common - consumerism. If you'd seen a sensible shoe for walking you might just think of necessities, but the high-heeled shoe is not a necessity, is it? Nope, it represents both the aforementioned consumerism and something much more primal - desire. For women (yes, I'm generalising) it's the desire to have it. For men (still doing it) the desire have the woman wearing it.
I've spent hours reading and looking at things by or concerning INSA. But those little cog-thingies inside my brain have been spinning around, making all that machinery work at high-speed too. Because this did something that various things do to me every now and then; I started thinking about consumerism in modern society. It sounds really pretentious, I know, but things just set that stuff off in my head every now and then, but always from a slightly different angle. And this one was quite different and more intense (just goes to show what art and culture can do to me), because this time around I was forced to come back to myself, and scrutinising your own behaviour can be both fun and horrible, but it's always at least slightly frightening. While I occasionally will be watching something trashy on TV with my mum (like Dr. Phil or something) and we'll both exclaim how we don't understand those shopoholics who keep turning up with their "addiction" and how we could never do that. That's not necessarily true. While I get bored very quickly if I shop for clothes (and I even did during that lovely year I felt somewhat thin) if I had the money to spend on my fetish, I'd spend it. And you know what that means, right? Yup. Boxes upon boxes of mint condition original 70s vinyl.
My head was still racing with ideas about consumerism in media and mainstream culture (and subculture too!) and how this could easily turn into one of the two 10-week papers I have to write to ever get that stupid degree of mine when I accompanied my brother as he took the dog for a morning walk. Once outside, my mind started drifting back to the art aspects of INSA (possibly triggered by the dog doing his own street art by spraying the innocently white snow with an in-your-face kind of yellow) and then to the ice hotel (which is looking stunning this season, you must go to their website and check out the pictures of all the rooms). And as I walked there, being viciously stung by the tiny snow flakes which were whipped around in the wind, I started thinking about how much I'll miss this when I move to the UK. I'll complain about it like everyone else, but it's no secret that I love snow and winter. Hell, I was born during a blizzard and a temperature of -25 (rarely experienced this far south, even back then). And I don't even mind when it springs itself on us like this, killing all the flowers which had begun to stick their defiant heads out of the ground. In fact, I was quite enjoying the feeling of an early morning being filled with daylight and snow and birds singing (though, I swear they were louder than normal, as if shouting complaints about the damn weather to one another).
You can't really put a price on the art of snow and ice, can you? While I love leaving the first set of footprints on virgin snow, I know they'll have filled up or melted away a couple of hours later. Or been trampled beyond recognition by other feet whose intentions were much less poetic than my feet's were as I went for that 3 am walk with no other purpose. And while INSA can sell his own range of stilettos, inspired by the artwork he's made for years, for £200 a pair; come spring, his ice suite will return to Torne river and it won't turn up on a 22nd Century edition of the Antiques Roadshow.
So, when I was poking around the website of major, Swedish daily Dagens Nyheter and stumbled across an article about the construction of this season's ice hotel in Jukkasjärvi it was really unevitable that I'd end up reading more about it. Ever since I first heard about that hotel a few years ago I've always found it intriguing on many levels. So, there I was, looking at all the different designs of this season's ice hotel when one room in particular made me halt, re-read the name of the room, tilt my head slightly as I made sure I wasn't imagining it, and finally giggling as I realised what the two designers had done with the room dubbed "Getting Cold Feet".
Reading about the designers I immediately became curious of the "masked" one known as INSA. Because artists who hide their identities tend to be graffiti artists and that's one of those areas of art that absolutely fascinates me but I know very little about (there are plenty of those areas, by the way, far more than someone who's studied art history and contemporary art for as long as I have should be allowed). So, I started looking for information on this guy (unless it's a woman who's taken a lot of trouble to cleverly hide her gender, in which case I apologise and say that I'm impressed) and there doesn't seem to be a wikipedia-page about him, go figure. I did find some articles though, and through them a link to the "official" (I so hate that word sometimes, but I suppose it's needed to sort out these little pages we call web) site.
Now. Someone who just gave INSA's work a quick glance might say it's just the work of some semi-perv wanting to gawk over half-naked women, but that's not it (or maybe that's some of it, but that's none of our business, really, and it's not of importance), there's much more to it than that. The use of the high-heeled shoe (sometimes with an accompaning leg and arse), which is a common representative of fetishes, is quite thought-provoking. In itself it's just a shoe. Depending on your disposition and feelings towards footwear that can make you think about fashion, footwear you might crave but can't really afford, Carrie Bradshaw half-running down a New York street, pin-up models, pornography or maybe how your wife spends far too much on shopping. But there is something these things have in common - consumerism. If you'd seen a sensible shoe for walking you might just think of necessities, but the high-heeled shoe is not a necessity, is it? Nope, it represents both the aforementioned consumerism and something much more primal - desire. For women (yes, I'm generalising) it's the desire to have it. For men (still doing it) the desire have the woman wearing it.
I've spent hours reading and looking at things by or concerning INSA. But those little cog-thingies inside my brain have been spinning around, making all that machinery work at high-speed too. Because this did something that various things do to me every now and then; I started thinking about consumerism in modern society. It sounds really pretentious, I know, but things just set that stuff off in my head every now and then, but always from a slightly different angle. And this one was quite different and more intense (just goes to show what art and culture can do to me), because this time around I was forced to come back to myself, and scrutinising your own behaviour can be both fun and horrible, but it's always at least slightly frightening. While I occasionally will be watching something trashy on TV with my mum (like Dr. Phil or something) and we'll both exclaim how we don't understand those shopoholics who keep turning up with their "addiction" and how we could never do that. That's not necessarily true. While I get bored very quickly if I shop for clothes (and I even did during that lovely year I felt somewhat thin) if I had the money to spend on my fetish, I'd spend it. And you know what that means, right? Yup. Boxes upon boxes of mint condition original 70s vinyl.
My head was still racing with ideas about consumerism in media and mainstream culture (and subculture too!) and how this could easily turn into one of the two 10-week papers I have to write to ever get that stupid degree of mine when I accompanied my brother as he took the dog for a morning walk. Once outside, my mind started drifting back to the art aspects of INSA (possibly triggered by the dog doing his own street art by spraying the innocently white snow with an in-your-face kind of yellow) and then to the ice hotel (which is looking stunning this season, you must go to their website and check out the pictures of all the rooms). And as I walked there, being viciously stung by the tiny snow flakes which were whipped around in the wind, I started thinking about how much I'll miss this when I move to the UK. I'll complain about it like everyone else, but it's no secret that I love snow and winter. Hell, I was born during a blizzard and a temperature of -25 (rarely experienced this far south, even back then). And I don't even mind when it springs itself on us like this, killing all the flowers which had begun to stick their defiant heads out of the ground. In fact, I was quite enjoying the feeling of an early morning being filled with daylight and snow and birds singing (though, I swear they were louder than normal, as if shouting complaints about the damn weather to one another).
You can't really put a price on the art of snow and ice, can you? While I love leaving the first set of footprints on virgin snow, I know they'll have filled up or melted away a couple of hours later. Or been trampled beyond recognition by other feet whose intentions were much less poetic than my feet's were as I went for that 3 am walk with no other purpose. And while INSA can sell his own range of stilettos, inspired by the artwork he's made for years, for £200 a pair; come spring, his ice suite will return to Torne river and it won't turn up on a 22nd Century edition of the Antiques Roadshow.
Tuesday 24 March 2009
The Dream of March 24
OK, I've already lost track of some details that become important when this dream ends, but the gist of it is still safely in my head and I think I can guide you through some of the odd twists and turns of it.
It started out with me going downtown - but where the "downtown" was I couldn't tell you. I'm pretty sure I was either living with or visiting my grandmother because I know she was "home" when I left.
There was this shopping centre I went to, which was inside a building that was older than the actual shopping centre and had not always been used as such. It was quite small, but because they used both floors they still managed something like... ten shops in there. And that's also where my grandfather's nursing home was, apparently. I visited him every now and then and this time found him sharing a room with two or three French people. So I went to talk to one of the nurses and point out that my grandfather speaks only Swedish and shouldn't share a room with French people. I think one of his brothers was actually living in the same nursing home so there wasn't a shortage of Swedish people to put him with. I did say that I knew that it might be difficult to arrange and when I said that the nurse sort of whispered that "if Mrs. [some odd name I can't remember] can get a new room in the midst of a war we can get your grandfather one now". This triggered a thought about a war the UK had been in a couple of years earlier (fake one, not the Iraq thing) so I guess that's where I was.
The next thing I remember is being out on the streets, trying to get somewhere on the busy streets. A girl who was walking in front of me suddenly stopped or side-stepped or something and I had to sort of throw my hand out and put it on her back to manouvre around her as I passed by. But I did this a bit roughly and I might've nearly slapped her. But I didn't really have time to stop and apologise so I hurried along. Then something came flying at me and struck me hard in the head. I toppled over and heard people gasp around me. Looking up I could see the girl I'd just passed looking furious, she'd thrown something at me. She said something about hitting me and instead of pointing out that she had purposely hurt me much worse than I had her and getting angry about it I stood up and calmly apologised for hitting her earlier, saying I really hadn't meant to, but she didn't listen. With a threat of something that would happen if I showed my face where she was (can't remember exactly what), she hurried off towards that shopping centre - and I needed to go back there for some reason, probably to check on my grandfather again.
So I started moving towards another entrance, making my around the building, looking inside it as I went. I spent quite a while sneaking around inside trying to avoid her attention, and I know I went back into the nursing home. I think we occasionally bumped into one another while we were both sneaking around through shops and I know we talked to loads of people including a Portuguese health chef who was forced to work in a shop due to lack of work in his field. There was a run-in with her later, on the street, but I don't remember what happened, just that after we'd argued (or something) we were both sitting down, resting ourselves against the wall of a stone building, twenty feet, or so, apart from one another and we weren't talking.
I'd had a brief memory of having forgotten my money and card some time earlier, not sure when, and I was down to my last four dollars (yup, they were dollars - a one-dollar bill and a non-existant three-dollar one). For some reason I threw the two dollar bills into the street, they flew quite far before landing in front of a somewhat old and tired-looking man who then slipped on them and fell down. He immediately shouted something to me, apparently suspecting me immediately. I then pretended not to have heard him and shouted to that other girl:
"Look what you did now!!! Why did you throw those there?"
The man turned on her instead. She kept trying to get him to turn his focus back to me, and we both stood up and I walked over to her and the man, who was now shouting furiously at the both of us. He wore REALLY weird glasses (that's not really important, I just wanted to mention it. They we like... the shape of upside down speech bubbles from a comic book and all the colours of the rainbow, but slightly metallic-looking). He went on and on about what street punks we were, and we were both dressed in nice-looking coats and we had proper suits on underneath. He seemed to think I was the scruffier-looking one but at some point he seemed to hear what we were saying and proceeded to take his weird glasses off and look at us proplerly and he then said we looked wholesome and pretty or something.
But that didn't stop him from having us both prosecuted for this crime, together. It turned out that he had loads of money and the prosecuting side of the court dealings had gathered up that Portuguese chef, among many others we had interacted with during our bisarre cat and mouse game. They all testified to what they'd seen us do throughout that day and we were shown satellite images of me throwing that money (which somehow still incriminated the both of us, despite the fact that I'd thrown the money), but lastly it was time for the man who'd slipped to testify.
Then he started telling this long story about how his declining health had forced him to seize working and how he'd been feeling terrible for a couple of years but as this trial had started he'd met all these people, like that chef, who were all able to help him somehow. He listed all these people that I remembered having met in my dream who were all great at something. And apparently if you put all of them together they were perfect employees for the man who'd slipped and he was already feeling much better. He finally ended his testimony by saying how meeting me and the other girl had been a blessing and shortly thereafter we'd been cleared of all charges.
Then I woke up and had to use the loo. (:-P
It started out with me going downtown - but where the "downtown" was I couldn't tell you. I'm pretty sure I was either living with or visiting my grandmother because I know she was "home" when I left.
There was this shopping centre I went to, which was inside a building that was older than the actual shopping centre and had not always been used as such. It was quite small, but because they used both floors they still managed something like... ten shops in there. And that's also where my grandfather's nursing home was, apparently. I visited him every now and then and this time found him sharing a room with two or three French people. So I went to talk to one of the nurses and point out that my grandfather speaks only Swedish and shouldn't share a room with French people. I think one of his brothers was actually living in the same nursing home so there wasn't a shortage of Swedish people to put him with. I did say that I knew that it might be difficult to arrange and when I said that the nurse sort of whispered that "if Mrs. [some odd name I can't remember] can get a new room in the midst of a war we can get your grandfather one now". This triggered a thought about a war the UK had been in a couple of years earlier (fake one, not the Iraq thing) so I guess that's where I was.
The next thing I remember is being out on the streets, trying to get somewhere on the busy streets. A girl who was walking in front of me suddenly stopped or side-stepped or something and I had to sort of throw my hand out and put it on her back to manouvre around her as I passed by. But I did this a bit roughly and I might've nearly slapped her. But I didn't really have time to stop and apologise so I hurried along. Then something came flying at me and struck me hard in the head. I toppled over and heard people gasp around me. Looking up I could see the girl I'd just passed looking furious, she'd thrown something at me. She said something about hitting me and instead of pointing out that she had purposely hurt me much worse than I had her and getting angry about it I stood up and calmly apologised for hitting her earlier, saying I really hadn't meant to, but she didn't listen. With a threat of something that would happen if I showed my face where she was (can't remember exactly what), she hurried off towards that shopping centre - and I needed to go back there for some reason, probably to check on my grandfather again.
So I started moving towards another entrance, making my around the building, looking inside it as I went. I spent quite a while sneaking around inside trying to avoid her attention, and I know I went back into the nursing home. I think we occasionally bumped into one another while we were both sneaking around through shops and I know we talked to loads of people including a Portuguese health chef who was forced to work in a shop due to lack of work in his field. There was a run-in with her later, on the street, but I don't remember what happened, just that after we'd argued (or something) we were both sitting down, resting ourselves against the wall of a stone building, twenty feet, or so, apart from one another and we weren't talking.
I'd had a brief memory of having forgotten my money and card some time earlier, not sure when, and I was down to my last four dollars (yup, they were dollars - a one-dollar bill and a non-existant three-dollar one). For some reason I threw the two dollar bills into the street, they flew quite far before landing in front of a somewhat old and tired-looking man who then slipped on them and fell down. He immediately shouted something to me, apparently suspecting me immediately. I then pretended not to have heard him and shouted to that other girl:
"Look what you did now!!! Why did you throw those there?"
The man turned on her instead. She kept trying to get him to turn his focus back to me, and we both stood up and I walked over to her and the man, who was now shouting furiously at the both of us. He wore REALLY weird glasses (that's not really important, I just wanted to mention it. They we like... the shape of upside down speech bubbles from a comic book and all the colours of the rainbow, but slightly metallic-looking). He went on and on about what street punks we were, and we were both dressed in nice-looking coats and we had proper suits on underneath. He seemed to think I was the scruffier-looking one but at some point he seemed to hear what we were saying and proceeded to take his weird glasses off and look at us proplerly and he then said we looked wholesome and pretty or something.
But that didn't stop him from having us both prosecuted for this crime, together. It turned out that he had loads of money and the prosecuting side of the court dealings had gathered up that Portuguese chef, among many others we had interacted with during our bisarre cat and mouse game. They all testified to what they'd seen us do throughout that day and we were shown satellite images of me throwing that money (which somehow still incriminated the both of us, despite the fact that I'd thrown the money), but lastly it was time for the man who'd slipped to testify.
Then he started telling this long story about how his declining health had forced him to seize working and how he'd been feeling terrible for a couple of years but as this trial had started he'd met all these people, like that chef, who were all able to help him somehow. He listed all these people that I remembered having met in my dream who were all great at something. And apparently if you put all of them together they were perfect employees for the man who'd slipped and he was already feeling much better. He finally ended his testimony by saying how meeting me and the other girl had been a blessing and shortly thereafter we'd been cleared of all charges.
Then I woke up and had to use the loo. (:-P
Wednesday 18 March 2009
The Dreams of March 18
What happened this morning was I woke up 'cause the phone was ringing and realised I'd forgot to set my alarm. No biggie, I wasn't going anywhere really (except for a walk in the gorgeous weather we're finally having).
So then I remembered just what I'd been dreaming before I woke up, and I started retracing my steps and soon realised I'd been dreaming like crazy... I'll try to remember as much as possible.
Dream 1. James was visiting and I think his parents were here too, but I can't remember much of what they were doing. We were all at the local shopping centre (not that it looked the same as it does in real life) and it was nearly closing time which, for some reason, was 2 am on week days... or nights, rather.
I'd been off on my own for a bit, to buy something, and I was heading back to the food court to meet up with the others when some guy I had a vague recollection of having met a few times before came up to me and started chatting me up. I wasn't particularly amused and politely tried to excuse myself but he wasn't discouraged and followed me, grabbing my arm trying to get me to stop. I felt myself getting slightly nervous and started half-running away from him. On my way there I suddenly saw a very familiar, green sign above a closed off shop. "Starbucks ...opening soon!"
Wow. Starbucks here? In *my* hometown? There aren't even any in Stockholm! I ran back as fast as I could to tell James about it.
Here's where it gets hazy. I know I got back and told him and we were talking to his parents for a bit, I remember his mother telling me something, but the next clear thing I remember is me being alone out by the carpark.
Something gets really weird here, my car isn't working as it normally does and for some reason I have to drive slowly through this huge crowd of people. Not just a huge crowd, an actual parade. Some of them were in matching costumes performing some sort of dance routine!
Not sure what this was all about, but that's all I remember, anyways.
Dream 2.
I think I may have been one of the two women in this dream, at some point I did turn into one of them, but to begin with I think I was sort of... just seeing them, like on a film. They were in water, just by a beach and talking about things like seeing birds (ducks I believe it was) swimming in the water. They were trying to get across this river (or whatever it was) to the other side where there were these huge concrete pillars, holding a bridge that crossed the river up. The young woman, or rather; teenage girl, was saying things that implied she'd never really been out in the world before and the woman was telling her things about it that I'd consider completely untrue but somehow seemed to make sense in this dream. For instance; the girl was commenting on never having seen birds flying on water before and the woman said that seeing that was a way of seeing God's love, or something.
There was something very pale and sickly about the girl and she was exhausted once they reached the pillars.
Now, the next bit sort of feels like the same dream. As if those pillars were this magic gate and by getting to them this girl was made healthy again and sent to where she was supposed to be. I distinctly remember her having straight, brown hair in the first part of the dream, but now it was curly and I was her. And I was in a house with a couple of other people, but I was just exiting it through the back and there was an orchard behind it where some young men were working. By the looks of the home and the clothes people were wearing I'd say time had shifted back to early 20th century. I asked the closest boy where another boy, whose name I can't remember, was. The young man shouted something to the others working further down the orchard and they, in turn, shouted further down and shortly thereafter the person I was looking for came running and gave me a hug. When the other young men started making remarks he told them I was his sister, but I don't think I was.
And that's when the phone rang and woke me up.
A lot of things were hazy about these dreams as there was so much to try to remember. Oh well. I hope you had a good night!
So then I remembered just what I'd been dreaming before I woke up, and I started retracing my steps and soon realised I'd been dreaming like crazy... I'll try to remember as much as possible.
Dream 1. James was visiting and I think his parents were here too, but I can't remember much of what they were doing. We were all at the local shopping centre (not that it looked the same as it does in real life) and it was nearly closing time which, for some reason, was 2 am on week days... or nights, rather.
I'd been off on my own for a bit, to buy something, and I was heading back to the food court to meet up with the others when some guy I had a vague recollection of having met a few times before came up to me and started chatting me up. I wasn't particularly amused and politely tried to excuse myself but he wasn't discouraged and followed me, grabbing my arm trying to get me to stop. I felt myself getting slightly nervous and started half-running away from him. On my way there I suddenly saw a very familiar, green sign above a closed off shop. "Starbucks ...opening soon!"
Wow. Starbucks here? In *my* hometown? There aren't even any in Stockholm! I ran back as fast as I could to tell James about it.
Here's where it gets hazy. I know I got back and told him and we were talking to his parents for a bit, I remember his mother telling me something, but the next clear thing I remember is me being alone out by the carpark.
Something gets really weird here, my car isn't working as it normally does and for some reason I have to drive slowly through this huge crowd of people. Not just a huge crowd, an actual parade. Some of them were in matching costumes performing some sort of dance routine!
Not sure what this was all about, but that's all I remember, anyways.
Dream 2.
I think I may have been one of the two women in this dream, at some point I did turn into one of them, but to begin with I think I was sort of... just seeing them, like on a film. They were in water, just by a beach and talking about things like seeing birds (ducks I believe it was) swimming in the water. They were trying to get across this river (or whatever it was) to the other side where there were these huge concrete pillars, holding a bridge that crossed the river up. The young woman, or rather; teenage girl, was saying things that implied she'd never really been out in the world before and the woman was telling her things about it that I'd consider completely untrue but somehow seemed to make sense in this dream. For instance; the girl was commenting on never having seen birds flying on water before and the woman said that seeing that was a way of seeing God's love, or something.
There was something very pale and sickly about the girl and she was exhausted once they reached the pillars.
Now, the next bit sort of feels like the same dream. As if those pillars were this magic gate and by getting to them this girl was made healthy again and sent to where she was supposed to be. I distinctly remember her having straight, brown hair in the first part of the dream, but now it was curly and I was her. And I was in a house with a couple of other people, but I was just exiting it through the back and there was an orchard behind it where some young men were working. By the looks of the home and the clothes people were wearing I'd say time had shifted back to early 20th century. I asked the closest boy where another boy, whose name I can't remember, was. The young man shouted something to the others working further down the orchard and they, in turn, shouted further down and shortly thereafter the person I was looking for came running and gave me a hug. When the other young men started making remarks he told them I was his sister, but I don't think I was.
And that's when the phone rang and woke me up.
A lot of things were hazy about these dreams as there was so much to try to remember. Oh well. I hope you had a good night!
Saturday 14 March 2009
The Weirdness of Dreams
Yes, this is it. The first non-dream-post. I should probably drink something festive to celebrate, but I can't be arsed to get up so the slight taste of garlic still residing in my mouth since lunch will have to do.
For those of you who didn't stop reading from being too grossed out just now, welcome! I've been meaning to get this done for ages, but it's never seemed the right time. But today, as I was reading a blog post on the blog of a delightful woman who on the web goes by the name of dyermaker I was reminded of a wonderful album I haven't listened to for a while, namely This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours by the Manic Street Preachers. Lately, I've mainly listened to Send Away the Tigers, but it was time to reacquaint myself with the older stuff too.
So, I found myself inspired by a delightful blog and a wonderful album and I decided to sit down and write a non-dream blog post.
Since I'm trying to ease you into it, this is really only an introduction, also touching on a subject you will be familiar with if you've read my earlier ramblings. Dreams.
After James had read my most recent nocturnal adventure (well, it was really morning when I had those dreams, but still) he posed an interesting question, namely that if he has as weird dreams as I do? Since he's one of many who can't recall their dreams very often it really it's not easy to tell what he dreams. This got me thinking... Do we all have as strange and odd dreams or is there something wrong with me? Wait, that doesn't put me in a very good light, does it? Am I... different? That's a better word.
The more I thought about it the more odd dream descriptions from various friends over the years I could remember. Clearly, there's Kit and her strange dreams. Beppo has mentioned a few as well, and then there are others - including James, who's mentioned one or two odd dreams he's had. Is it very common to have strange, crazy dreams where nothing seems to make much sense? Could it be that a lot of people for some reason think it's embarrassing to talk about and therefore never tell others about their REM-induced endeavours?
Every time I see one of those "dream charts" they always explain things like dreaming about a ladder... And while I can understand that not everyone dreams the way I do (comeplete with sound, smell, taste, sensations and different languages - all in full colour, of course) are there really people who just dream about a ladder? Do they just stand there looking at it? What kind of ladder is it? Doesn't it lead somewhere? Do they climb it? I've seen a few ladders in my dreams too. One was propped up against a house that was being painted white and purple by kids from the school I went to in that dream and somewhere around was a boy I then spent the most amazing day with, walking alongside a road, smelling flowers and went to all kinds of places with before he got in a fight with one of my brothers (I had two in this dream) and as a result died, since he'd had a heart problem no one had known about. Do you see what I'm getting at here?
So what causes dreams as elaborate and odd as mine? I know I get a lot of from real life because I can often relate things in my dreams to things going on in my life and even in dreams where I'm in "fake" places with "fake" people I can still see resemblances from places I know in life. But how come it all comes through so vividly? Is it because of my fondness for the evil rock music? Is it because my diet isn't healthy enough? Or because I watched Gremlins when I was five? That, by the way, was only one of many "scary films" I saw when I was a child but still the only one to give me nightmares (oh, poor Gizmo, those bad ones were throwing darts at him in my sleep too that night), and I've yet to turn into a psycho killer or anything so it couldn't have been too bad.
Any theories on this? I'm not sure I've really composed a proper problem here to hypothesise on, but if you've any thoughts feel free to share them.
As a side note I might add that I've never had a recurring dream that I'm aware of, and I think that's quite common. If I kept getting recurring ones this blog would really be lacking in content.
I wish you all cracked and entertaining dreams!
For those of you who didn't stop reading from being too grossed out just now, welcome! I've been meaning to get this done for ages, but it's never seemed the right time. But today, as I was reading a blog post on the blog of a delightful woman who on the web goes by the name of dyermaker I was reminded of a wonderful album I haven't listened to for a while, namely This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours by the Manic Street Preachers. Lately, I've mainly listened to Send Away the Tigers, but it was time to reacquaint myself with the older stuff too.
So, I found myself inspired by a delightful blog and a wonderful album and I decided to sit down and write a non-dream blog post.
Since I'm trying to ease you into it, this is really only an introduction, also touching on a subject you will be familiar with if you've read my earlier ramblings. Dreams.
After James had read my most recent nocturnal adventure (well, it was really morning when I had those dreams, but still) he posed an interesting question, namely that if he has as weird dreams as I do? Since he's one of many who can't recall their dreams very often it really it's not easy to tell what he dreams. This got me thinking... Do we all have as strange and odd dreams or is there something wrong with me? Wait, that doesn't put me in a very good light, does it? Am I... different? That's a better word.
The more I thought about it the more odd dream descriptions from various friends over the years I could remember. Clearly, there's Kit and her strange dreams. Beppo has mentioned a few as well, and then there are others - including James, who's mentioned one or two odd dreams he's had. Is it very common to have strange, crazy dreams where nothing seems to make much sense? Could it be that a lot of people for some reason think it's embarrassing to talk about and therefore never tell others about their REM-induced endeavours?
Every time I see one of those "dream charts" they always explain things like dreaming about a ladder... And while I can understand that not everyone dreams the way I do (comeplete with sound, smell, taste, sensations and different languages - all in full colour, of course) are there really people who just dream about a ladder? Do they just stand there looking at it? What kind of ladder is it? Doesn't it lead somewhere? Do they climb it? I've seen a few ladders in my dreams too. One was propped up against a house that was being painted white and purple by kids from the school I went to in that dream and somewhere around was a boy I then spent the most amazing day with, walking alongside a road, smelling flowers and went to all kinds of places with before he got in a fight with one of my brothers (I had two in this dream) and as a result died, since he'd had a heart problem no one had known about. Do you see what I'm getting at here?
So what causes dreams as elaborate and odd as mine? I know I get a lot of from real life because I can often relate things in my dreams to things going on in my life and even in dreams where I'm in "fake" places with "fake" people I can still see resemblances from places I know in life. But how come it all comes through so vividly? Is it because of my fondness for the evil rock music? Is it because my diet isn't healthy enough? Or because I watched Gremlins when I was five? That, by the way, was only one of many "scary films" I saw when I was a child but still the only one to give me nightmares (oh, poor Gizmo, those bad ones were throwing darts at him in my sleep too that night), and I've yet to turn into a psycho killer or anything so it couldn't have been too bad.
Any theories on this? I'm not sure I've really composed a proper problem here to hypothesise on, but if you've any thoughts feel free to share them.
As a side note I might add that I've never had a recurring dream that I'm aware of, and I think that's quite common. If I kept getting recurring ones this blog would really be lacking in content.
I wish you all cracked and entertaining dreams!
Friday 13 March 2009
The Dreams of March 13
I had quite a few dreams during this night, though, most of them I think appeared after I'd been up once around 8, to call James and wake him up (he was already up, though, but at least he wasn't late for work this morning).
Not sure of the order in which I had them, but let's start with the nightmare first and work our way to the silliness, shall we?
The first one was quite brief. I received a call on my mobile from someone close to me who could barely speak from crying too hard. I heard something about someone being shot, but not who and I nearly had to shout at this upset person to get them to repeat who it was as they were so upset.
"My mum!" came the answer. "It doesn't look as if she'll make it."
The rest of the dream was spent on the phone as I tried to find a way to get to this other person as fast as possible.
It was a very frightening dream. (:-/
The next one was longer and had a lot of story to it, but most of that's gone away now. I was a member of a team of some sort, possibly a police one, investigating these houses out in the middle of nowhere. It didn't seem to be night-time, but there was no daylight either. Just this really dark blueish grey that seemed fixed to the area. As if it was a really cloudy day and the sun was just setting, pulling most of the light away from behind the clouds. Except it never changed, and the air seemed cold and wet.
The village was very isolated and no one seemed interested in talking to us. We hadn't found the person or house we were looking for and were ready to give up when someone in the team spotted cables hidden in the grass, going towards what we just thought was a really dense patch of forest. But as we approached we realised there was a gate and a small house that looked as if it might collapse at any second in there. We had to keep the man living in it, who was away from his house at the time (apparently) from finding out we'd been there and cautiously made our way to it. Booby traps were set up all over it, some merely there to alert the owner to our having been there, but others were designed to kill. Like the grids of very thin metal wires with very powerful currents of electicity running through them, cleverly hidden among things he expected us to touch. The whole place was a mess and we soon left, though I'm not sure if we'd found what we were looking for.
The people in the village didn't want to talk to us either, with the exception of a little girl with fair, curly hair. And for some reason no one seemed interested in stopping her from doing so.
I can't recall if she told us anything important, but I can remember that she showed us these odd drawings she'd made. They weren't odd because of what they depicted, but how they depicted it. Not only were they much too good for a girl that age, there was something about them I can't explain... It was as if there had never been drawings like them made before. Ever.
I don't know if there was more after that.
This next bit was really brief and might have been connected to the previous dream despite being in such a different setting. In fact, I think it *may* actually have been us somehow going into the little girl's drawing, because I remember one of them being about California and there were palmtrees and things.
So anyway... We were on a beach somewhere (I think it was the same people), dressed a bit too warmly as we tried to get somewhere. One of the guys who had been sort of a leader of the group charged ahead and started climbing this odd-looking tree to get through the dense patch of rain forest (yup!) which was on the beach (yup!) in California (possibly!). He failed to notice the huge snake that was perched halfway up it and the next person going up had a run-in with said snake. She screamed and somehow one of them managed to push the snake to the ground where it was attacked by a large creature we'd never seen before. It was sort of like that scene in Jurassic Park where they're in the lobby of that dinosaur place and the T-Rex grabs a velociraptor. The two battle it out while we get away.
End scene! Or dream, more like...
The last dream started out with me having an idea for a massive artwork made out of fusible beads. You know, those plastic ones you put on a peg array-thing and iron so that they melt together. Kit and Julian make a lot of those and now that I was rich and living in a massive house with that music room I've always dreamed of (this dream started out so well) I was going to have the cover art of Van der Graaf Generator's Still Life album covering an entire wall, and they were going to help me. Clearly, my role was to let them call the shots of it as they have artistic talent and I can remember just doing what Julian was telling me to do.
But for some reason this dream stabbed me in the back. Suddenly, I was still in a room like my music one, but there were all kinds of professionals running around, and massive lights being aimed at the wall. And... And... The Spice Girls. They were posing against the wall and then they brought in some smart-looking woman with glasses and a suit that probably cost the same as my mum's flat. She was talking about her artistic outlet and then the Spice Girls were commenting on the emotional process and a video being showed portrayed them posing for something and arguing and crying (which is pretty much what I picture them doing most of the time, really). And then, after the video was over, one of them was talking about how she'd dreamed of having this. Just as I was getting annoyed at never finding out what was going on they unveiled it. The fusible beads artwork covering the entire wall. Except it was her wall and the artwork was a massive picture of the Spice Girls, not Still Life.
Then people started drinking overpriced champagne and I woke up.
Not sure of the order in which I had them, but let's start with the nightmare first and work our way to the silliness, shall we?
The first one was quite brief. I received a call on my mobile from someone close to me who could barely speak from crying too hard. I heard something about someone being shot, but not who and I nearly had to shout at this upset person to get them to repeat who it was as they were so upset.
"My mum!" came the answer. "It doesn't look as if she'll make it."
The rest of the dream was spent on the phone as I tried to find a way to get to this other person as fast as possible.
It was a very frightening dream. (:-/
The next one was longer and had a lot of story to it, but most of that's gone away now. I was a member of a team of some sort, possibly a police one, investigating these houses out in the middle of nowhere. It didn't seem to be night-time, but there was no daylight either. Just this really dark blueish grey that seemed fixed to the area. As if it was a really cloudy day and the sun was just setting, pulling most of the light away from behind the clouds. Except it never changed, and the air seemed cold and wet.
The village was very isolated and no one seemed interested in talking to us. We hadn't found the person or house we were looking for and were ready to give up when someone in the team spotted cables hidden in the grass, going towards what we just thought was a really dense patch of forest. But as we approached we realised there was a gate and a small house that looked as if it might collapse at any second in there. We had to keep the man living in it, who was away from his house at the time (apparently) from finding out we'd been there and cautiously made our way to it. Booby traps were set up all over it, some merely there to alert the owner to our having been there, but others were designed to kill. Like the grids of very thin metal wires with very powerful currents of electicity running through them, cleverly hidden among things he expected us to touch. The whole place was a mess and we soon left, though I'm not sure if we'd found what we were looking for.
The people in the village didn't want to talk to us either, with the exception of a little girl with fair, curly hair. And for some reason no one seemed interested in stopping her from doing so.
I can't recall if she told us anything important, but I can remember that she showed us these odd drawings she'd made. They weren't odd because of what they depicted, but how they depicted it. Not only were they much too good for a girl that age, there was something about them I can't explain... It was as if there had never been drawings like them made before. Ever.
I don't know if there was more after that.
This next bit was really brief and might have been connected to the previous dream despite being in such a different setting. In fact, I think it *may* actually have been us somehow going into the little girl's drawing, because I remember one of them being about California and there were palmtrees and things.
So anyway... We were on a beach somewhere (I think it was the same people), dressed a bit too warmly as we tried to get somewhere. One of the guys who had been sort of a leader of the group charged ahead and started climbing this odd-looking tree to get through the dense patch of rain forest (yup!) which was on the beach (yup!) in California (possibly!). He failed to notice the huge snake that was perched halfway up it and the next person going up had a run-in with said snake. She screamed and somehow one of them managed to push the snake to the ground where it was attacked by a large creature we'd never seen before. It was sort of like that scene in Jurassic Park where they're in the lobby of that dinosaur place and the T-Rex grabs a velociraptor. The two battle it out while we get away.
End scene! Or dream, more like...
The last dream started out with me having an idea for a massive artwork made out of fusible beads. You know, those plastic ones you put on a peg array-thing and iron so that they melt together. Kit and Julian make a lot of those and now that I was rich and living in a massive house with that music room I've always dreamed of (this dream started out so well) I was going to have the cover art of Van der Graaf Generator's Still Life album covering an entire wall, and they were going to help me. Clearly, my role was to let them call the shots of it as they have artistic talent and I can remember just doing what Julian was telling me to do.
But for some reason this dream stabbed me in the back. Suddenly, I was still in a room like my music one, but there were all kinds of professionals running around, and massive lights being aimed at the wall. And... And... The Spice Girls. They were posing against the wall and then they brought in some smart-looking woman with glasses and a suit that probably cost the same as my mum's flat. She was talking about her artistic outlet and then the Spice Girls were commenting on the emotional process and a video being showed portrayed them posing for something and arguing and crying (which is pretty much what I picture them doing most of the time, really). And then, after the video was over, one of them was talking about how she'd dreamed of having this. Just as I was getting annoyed at never finding out what was going on they unveiled it. The fusible beads artwork covering the entire wall. Except it was her wall and the artwork was a massive picture of the Spice Girls, not Still Life.
Then people started drinking overpriced champagne and I woke up.
Monday 2 March 2009
The Dream of March 2
Desperately trying to remember details from this one as I found it interesting. I don't think anyone in it was "real", but possibly a few people shared characteristics or appearances with friends of mine. I'm also struggling to remember if the people in it spoke Swedish or English, but I really don't remember that particular aspect.
I was somewhere in the countryside, with a man and a girl who I think were my father and sister in the dream. The other girl and I were both quite young, possibly about ten years old. We were visiting an elderly couple, the man's parents. They lived in a house, possibly with a small farm, in the countryside of a country that... I think either had been at war about thirty, or so, years ago or the people in the area had ties to a country that had been at war slightly more recently. One thing which definitely suggests something had caused the elderly couple to move to a different place at some point was the fact that their son, or my father, I guess he was, spoke with an accent as if the language the rest of us spoke wasn't as familiar to him (we can ignore the fact that no matter where he grew up his parents' first language would've been his. Maybe they both spoke these two languages perfectly and thus the other language had been their first whereas the one we now spoke had turned into a second one for their son?).
The house of the elderly couple was right next to a field, and there was only a dirt road leading up to their house - definitely in the middle of nowhere. But on the other side of the field was another house, one that had been inhabitated by a family with children but then left abandoned. I was told the story of it, but I don't know if they had abandoned it due to a war raging in the country or if they'd gone on holiday to the country they were originally from and then a war had started there and caught them by surprise. Either way, we knew the family had died. And my father had promised us we'd go explore the old house.
Since no one had tended to it in more than twenty years we were told to be very careful as we entered the house, hearts pounding. The ground floor seemed solely devoted to being a kitchen and dining area, and off to the right was a door that opened onto a small, fenced in area that now seemed as if every planted thing there had died - even the weeds. There was a small gate in the fence, which opened directly into the huge field that separated this house from my grandparents'.
As I followed my father and sister out there I looked down on the ground and spotted small holes in the dirt. I voiced my concerns about snakes to the others, but my father didn't seem to hear me. My sister looked scared though. Just after my father had gone back inside a mouse appeared from one of the holes and I shrieked and stomped on the ground to try to scare it away. Then we ran into the house too. We very carefully went upstairs and looked around there too. The whole place was very eery and I remember half-expecting the ghosts of the family to turn up and chase us away from their home. On a table by a sofa and a television there was a huge bowl full of tiny chocolate bars. I remember approaching it to check the expiration dates when my sister grabbed me.
"You're not going to take those, are you? I don't think that's legal!"
"I'm not going to take them, I just want to see how old they are."
But I can't remember actually checking them. The next bit I remember is being inside a bedroom and looking at books in a bookcase. There was a series of biographies about an author I was very familiar with. In fact, my grandmother and I had discussed those very biographies the night before. However, the one book in the series we'd talked about the most didn't seem to be there. My grandparents had now appeared outside the house and it seemed my father and sister had joined them, I was the last one in there. After finding those books I went halfway down the stairs, until I could see them through the doorway, and excitedly told them about my findings. I think I was heading back upstairs after that, but I can't remember any more.
I really enjoyed the mood of this dream, it felt just the same as reading a scary book did when I was a kid.
I was somewhere in the countryside, with a man and a girl who I think were my father and sister in the dream. The other girl and I were both quite young, possibly about ten years old. We were visiting an elderly couple, the man's parents. They lived in a house, possibly with a small farm, in the countryside of a country that... I think either had been at war about thirty, or so, years ago or the people in the area had ties to a country that had been at war slightly more recently. One thing which definitely suggests something had caused the elderly couple to move to a different place at some point was the fact that their son, or my father, I guess he was, spoke with an accent as if the language the rest of us spoke wasn't as familiar to him (we can ignore the fact that no matter where he grew up his parents' first language would've been his. Maybe they both spoke these two languages perfectly and thus the other language had been their first whereas the one we now spoke had turned into a second one for their son?).
The house of the elderly couple was right next to a field, and there was only a dirt road leading up to their house - definitely in the middle of nowhere. But on the other side of the field was another house, one that had been inhabitated by a family with children but then left abandoned. I was told the story of it, but I don't know if they had abandoned it due to a war raging in the country or if they'd gone on holiday to the country they were originally from and then a war had started there and caught them by surprise. Either way, we knew the family had died. And my father had promised us we'd go explore the old house.
Since no one had tended to it in more than twenty years we were told to be very careful as we entered the house, hearts pounding. The ground floor seemed solely devoted to being a kitchen and dining area, and off to the right was a door that opened onto a small, fenced in area that now seemed as if every planted thing there had died - even the weeds. There was a small gate in the fence, which opened directly into the huge field that separated this house from my grandparents'.
As I followed my father and sister out there I looked down on the ground and spotted small holes in the dirt. I voiced my concerns about snakes to the others, but my father didn't seem to hear me. My sister looked scared though. Just after my father had gone back inside a mouse appeared from one of the holes and I shrieked and stomped on the ground to try to scare it away. Then we ran into the house too. We very carefully went upstairs and looked around there too. The whole place was very eery and I remember half-expecting the ghosts of the family to turn up and chase us away from their home. On a table by a sofa and a television there was a huge bowl full of tiny chocolate bars. I remember approaching it to check the expiration dates when my sister grabbed me.
"You're not going to take those, are you? I don't think that's legal!"
"I'm not going to take them, I just want to see how old they are."
But I can't remember actually checking them. The next bit I remember is being inside a bedroom and looking at books in a bookcase. There was a series of biographies about an author I was very familiar with. In fact, my grandmother and I had discussed those very biographies the night before. However, the one book in the series we'd talked about the most didn't seem to be there. My grandparents had now appeared outside the house and it seemed my father and sister had joined them, I was the last one in there. After finding those books I went halfway down the stairs, until I could see them through the doorway, and excitedly told them about my findings. I think I was heading back upstairs after that, but I can't remember any more.
I really enjoyed the mood of this dream, it felt just the same as reading a scary book did when I was a kid.
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