The Dream of October 23

Right, so James has started blogging (there's a link under "The Doctor Prescribes") and I've been thinking I should resurrect this thing. I've been a bit short on dreams, lately, but I do remember a fair amount of the one from last night.

I was in my mum's flat and we were packing things up to move somewhere. I knew I could only pack a few things because I had to go somewhere first and meet up with my mum (and presumably my brother) in the new place a couple of days later. At no point while this was being planned did I seem to stop and think about where I was going since I couldn't help them with the actual move.

At some stage I must have set out, though, because I had a backpack full of equipment and I somehow materialised on an alien spaceship which was threatening the planet. While I'm not entirely sure why I was there I can only presume I was planting some sort of explosives or other destructive materials, but the part I was focusing my efforts on was getting out of there again.

There were three floors of the spaceship and people were living on it and walking around. They looked like humans but I'm not sure that they were. On the other hand the thought that they may not have been did not seem to bother me particularly. I could identify the military forces of the aliens without too much difficulty, they were dressed in black, wore helmets and some type of masks across the lower halves of their faces armed with what looked like rail guns out of Quake (but attached by tubes to some kind of containers they carried on their backs).

While I could blend in with the civilians it seemed that if I made eye contact with any of the soldiers they could identify that I was not one of them.

On each floor there were two points with some type of control panels with points where I could connect the equipment I carried which could teleport me back to earth. I had cables which looked a bit like XLR and they connected to a handset I needed to speak into to confirm that I where I wanted to travel to, but I needed to get to one of these control panels in order to travel. Some kind of message through the speaker system seemed to announce that everyone had to gather in meeting rooms on each floor, making it a lot harder to merely walk to the control panels without drawing attention to myself. I walked along with the other people trying to turn corners and pass behind anything which would hide me from view whenever I saw the soldiers approach in the crowd.

One of the civilians seemed to have noticed me, because he looked at me intently, but did not alert the others to my presence. He had long hair in a pony-tail and had a little bit of an "hippy" air about him. Somehow he also seemed to stand out from the rest of them, but not even the guards seemed to pay any attention to him. Eventually I had managed to get to one of the control panels and I was digging through my backpack for the cables I needed when the guards spotted me. They walked up to me and aimed their weapons at me and fired.

I presume I died, but I can't be sure as the spaceship part of the dream then started over - nearly as if I were in a computer game and had another few lives to use. I restarted my mission and again it ended with me being shot by the guards. This kept repeating but it was never the same twice, I would be shot at different locations in the ship and I encountered different things. The man who had observed me appeared each time and as the dreams progress the encounters were longer. It eventually became clear that he was a human earthling, like me. I was never quite sure what he was doing there, but he was never able to save my life from the guards and I don't know if they also killed him.

A few more "attempts" at the dream in he seemed to have fallen in love with one of the women on the ship and wanted to bring her back to earth with us. Again, it kept repeating a few more times as we tried to break free and bring this woman with us.

Eventually, we managed to connect the cables and speak the instructions for transporting us to my mum's new flat just as guards were approaching to kill us for the umpteenth time.

Not the best dream ever but if I'm going to try to start this blog up again we may need to have to ease into it.

The Dream of June 9th

It's aaaliiiivee! Or at least slightly resurrected. I was reading up on Kit's regular blog, which has also been resurrected, and thought this would be a good day to bring mine back too. I'm off sick today and moving, talking and swallowing hurts and general feverishness is preventing me from doing anything but sitting on the sofa. However, my hands still operate as normal - albeit with some joint pains - so I thought I'd pen one of the dreams I had last night. Or keyboard it. You know what I mean.

Most of my night was spent having short nightmares about being at work - which I suspect is guilt at not being there, even though I know I'm not well enough to be.

But then I had this other dream.

I was hanging out with Beppo and Linnéa, and I think Jonas and Richard might have been there too, making Los Cinqos Fantasticos complete (those were the days, eh?). We decided to go on a day trip somewhere. We were having a great time, laughing and travelling to some sort of café or sweet shop which was next to a river. Inside one got to walk around with this sort of tall glass jar in which the staff would anything you pointed at in. They had ice creams, and chocolates, and other kinds of sweets and we were walking around. The others finished their orders and walked outside but I had trouble finding stuff I liked and wanted and kept wandering around in this little place which looked more like someone's old tool shed after a makeover. After I finally filled my jar up with bits and pieces I walked outside and Beppo immediately started shouting at me for taking so long.

"You were in there for 45 minutes, and we have to catch the bus at 17 10 if we're to make it home today. That's less than 25 minutes from now!"

But we didn't go to a bus. We went to this really long canoe thing and started paddling down the river. It looked a whole lot more like the Amazon than anything in Sweden, but we kept paddling away, and surprisingly I didn't turn the thing over.

I can't remember where we went, but whatever animosity had been there between Beppo and myself seemed to go away as we kept on paddling in peace and quiet.

Not a very detailed dream, but I have a fever so this is as good my memory gets right now.

The Dream of the Nap of April 2

I've forgotten most of this dream as it's been many hours since I had it, but as it's the second appearance of a social-democratic politician in my dreams* it should be blogged.

What happened was... I was getting restless and angry with my family and couldn't take it anymore and for some reason I ran off to the Hultsfred Festival - a festival I've never been to in real life. Apparently I got there late at night the day after it had ended or something and there were only a few more people left. The camp site itself was... imagine a volcano or something, without the lava, with a lawn and forest-y area at the bottom and a road spiralling up the inside of it, to the top, where the exit was. That's how it looked. Everything was dark and gloomy but I went with this guy who was leaving to catch a train. Once at the station I realised I had no money to buy a ticket with but suddenly a woman I recognised appeared. It was Laila Freivalds and I approached her about my troubles and explained how I'd ended up where I did. Apparently, she felt for me and didn't think my silly, sudden departure for a festival that had already ended was stupid because she told me she'd be right back and went into an office. A few minutes later she returned and told me a girl from the railway company would be along shortly and give me a ticket home and that train would definitely stop by where I live, no change or anything required. I thanked her and waited for the girl with the tickets. She appeared with what looked like a big pad of A4 papers and called out various towns and tore off tickets to them and handed those who approached her, but she didn't call out mine. Then when I asked her about it she gave me a ticket and pointed to a train just where we were.
'That one,' she said and I got on and asked some people where this train was going.
'Paris,' said one man, and I got worried.
'But I'm going to Jönköping?'
'Oh, it might very well go there, you never know with these trains, they're always adding stations they need to stop at. Don't worry.'
So I didn't. But I should have done, because we never went to Jönköping, and I didn't have a proper ticket and got chucked out somewhere in Germany.
I located a computer with internet somewhere and managed to send an e-mail to Freivalds, telling her how disappointed I was and how I'd always liked her and stuff, even when she'd been getting told off by the media for that business with her flat. I don't remember if I threatened to go to the press about what she'd promised me and what had happened of if I actually did. And I don't remember if she saved me from being stranded in Germany, but there you have it.



*The first one was pre-blog and involved the former Minsiter for Justice, Tomas Bodström and the two of us building flats for the homeless in an old castle on cliffs by a sea.

The Dreams of April 1-2

After battling a bout of nausea for most of the afternoon and evening I went to bed early and was in for quite a night! For the first time in ages, no people in quite "crowded" dreams were real even if some of them sort or reminded me of people I know or have known.

The first dream started with me being at home, late in the evening. It wasn't this home, nor was it any other home I've lived in, but a flat possibly 15 floors up in a very tall building. I was living there with my dream mum and possibly someone else too. Noises from outside caught our attention and I think we might've seen a car get stolen because I remember seeing one joyriding around and knowing for a fact that whoever was driving it wasn't supposed to.
Right next to our building was a river, and the currents in it were quite strong. There was a drop of something between five and ten feet to it from the carpark. Suddenly the stolen car drove through the fence and dove off the edge of the carpark, it got caught between hill going into the river and a tree. The front of the car was just touching the water, but it looked as if the entire car might drop at any second and be taken away by the currents.
'Oh my God, we have to help them,' I said.
'No wait,' said my mum, 'we don't know who these people are!'
I remained concerned, noticing that the driver door had been a bit damaged and might not open. But then, someone did open it and started climbing out.
I'm not sure what happened next, but I know that three teenage boys had got out of the car and then proceeded to doing something else they weren't supposed to be doing. The reason I know this is because I armed myself with something that I could swing around, like a bat or something (for sports, not the blind flying buggers) and went down to chase them away with it.
What happened next is unclear to me in some respects. I know that I, for some reason, was "sent away" to stay with relatives and I know I went from Sweden to England, but I'm not sure why. I also know that in that area there were three trouble-making bullies getting away with all kinds of crap, and while I kind of remember them as being the same as the three from the carpark, I'm not convinced they were. I think possibly they just reminded the dream me so much of the first set of boys that I get them confused, or that the dream me actually believed they were the same boys.
In England I got to stay with what I think might be relatives of some sort. I stayed with a woman from an Asian country, possibly Sri Lanka or something. The woman was fairly overweight and looked quite gloomy and aged, but I suspected she'd aged prematurely. She had a daughter of about five and I think the girl might've been my cousin and the woman a "mail order bride" my uncle had married. He did live there, I think, but I can only remember seeing him once and all I can tell you is that he wore a hat and seemed to love his daughter a lot and, in some way, care a lot about the miserable woman he'd married.
I made friends with a couple of "weird" kids in the area. One was an overweight boy who suffered a lot by the bullies. The other two were a girl and boy I can't remember a lot about, except they were sweet and shy.
I can't recall all the ways in which the bullies tormented us, but I can remember one of the weirder incidents where one of them had chased one of my friends when they were coming to see me and I grabbed the first thing I saw and started swinging at the bully. What I'd grabbed was one of those old wooden folding yardsticks and I remember someone saying I shouldn't take that as it belonged to someone's collection of antique yardsticks.
The last incident I remember was the worst one. They'd been chasing us around in a car that belonged to one of their rich fathers and they were targetting my overweight friend especially. I can't remember the particulars of what they did, but the dream ended horribly with that friend being flat on his back in the middle of the street and the other boy from our group desperately pulling at his arm trying to get him to his feet. Then a car approached and the other girl and I screamed at them to get out of there but just as the car hit I had to look away. When I looked back I saw that it had basically cut the boy who was on the ground in two and the other boy was sitting by a parked car, in shock, still holding the hand of the boy whose blood was all over him.

It really was horrible when it happened, but affects me less now that I'm awake due to the fact that the car which ran over the boy at the end was like... an old Formula 3 car or something. Very strange, and sort of funny in a horrible way.


It took me a while once I'd woken up properly to realise it had been two dreams, for in the next one I was also, for the greater part, in unfamiliar environments with unfamiliar friends.
The details that actually tie the different events into a story are gone, but basically we were going to various places in town, driving from place to place and there was something about big cats. Not big cats as in huge housecats, but lions and tigers and panthers and stuff.
There was also a moment where I discovered that I might have screws in my arms. Apparently, it was normal to have two bones sticking out of your elbow like an upside down V, but I became increasingly certain that mine wre screws. But after a while I realised there be scars if someone had replaced my bones with screws and once I'd told one of my friends about that she felt her own "V-bones" an they felt much the same as mine. So all was well.
Until we were about to drive up to where I live and passed a panther about to be captured by some sort of animal control unit.
We drove past and vowed not to get out of the car until we were far away from it. When we did get out we soon realised there was a lion outside my home and for some reason, one by one, we walked past it and went to sit down on a bench next to where it was. I assume the bench was "safe" or something. The girl I'd talked to about the screws in my arm walked ahead of me and the lion walked up to her and smelled her before following her to the bench. She sat down and the lion sat next to her before looking at me, the last one left standing, and then it took a few steps toward me and did something. I can't remember what, but whatever it was it made me think: "Wait a minute, that's not a lion!" and I spoke to it. When I did it turned into a girl.
I've no idea how she came to have the ability to turn into a lion, or why she'd done it, but whatever her explanation was we accepted it and when she asked for a ride into town we agreed to it.

That's all I remember. Dreams really work better with a story, don't they? Maybe next time!

The Dream of March 29

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.

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

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.