I don't remember planning it, and I don't remember actually going. But I remember Kit and I being outside some kind of venue in Florida. I'm not sure where it was, the only thing I can say for certain is that it wasn't in Tampa.
We were going to see Porcupine Tree (unusual, eh?) and when we got there we got to see the opening band on this outdoor stage. But it wasn't really an opening band so much as a mixture of musicians that were not in a band together, really. Gavin was playing the drums, Danny from Anathema was playing the guitar. There were these two keyboard players whose keyboards were facing one another. I don't think they're "real" but the fair-haired one on the left was someone we knew from hanging out at the Mellotronen shop or something in the dream. He was in a band back in Stockholm and we'd secretly mocked him for not knowing how to pronounce Gavin's name. Anyways, the guys were really getting into it and it sounded great, but then there was this weird passage where the two keyboard players took turns hissing Gavin's name into the microphones. It sounded just like the bit in Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "The Lost Christmas Eve" where this kid is whispering "Christmas", "Christmas", etc. Except that this was Gavin's name and it clearly wasn't planned 'cause Gavin started laughing and almost lost his rhythm. Yeah, I know, like that's ever gonna happen.
After this gig, they started to clear away the stage, or rather the equipment placed on the ground, basically, as there wasn't really a stage and no fences or anything. So we realised that the "real deal" would not be out here. We spotted a stage and loads of amps through the windows of the building behind the outdoor stage and ran to the entrance. The line was long and we were really upset that we'd not gotten to the front. But as we got closer to the entrance we saw that people weren't moving towards the stage, they were mingling in the entrance hall. A bit relieved I asked Kit to take out the envelope with the tickets. As she did we realised that our trip had been so sudden that we hadn't told anyone we were coming. Not Mel, not Wes or Sam, and not Lynn (who in my dream had moved to Florida too). We were a bit downtrodden by our own lack of sense but at least we were going to see PT. So we got the tickets out of the envelope and there was this folded up, freakiskly long set of ticket-sized papers that had the shipping address, receipt, ads and sponsorship information on them (usually you get one or two bits added on to the actual tickets when UK venues send them to your home, but nothing like this!). Two of them would be our tickets and we had to find them. We could only find one and when we reached the woman checking the tickets we were really nervous about the whole thing. She said she'd find the second ticket for us (she seemed really nice), but after a minute she declared that there was no second ticket, only one. And of course we got upset but I managed to keep my cool and gave her my name and credit card number so that she could check her computer stuff for information on my purchase. She came back and said that I'd ordered one ticket for the indoor event and one for the earlier, outdoor event (clearly this doesn't make sense as we both attended the outdoor thing). Now I got really frightened as the gig was sold out and we couldn't get a second ticket. So I asked if she'd seen Sam, the tour manager. She hadn't and I begged her to let me go look for him a bit, since we had one ticket and all. It was all right so I headed for the stage and saw Steven over by a window. I darted forward:
"Is there any chance you could help me, Steven?" I blurted out before even reaching him and realising that it wasn't Steven at all, just a very calm-looking fan who'd donned the hair and glasses. He must've heard me wrong because he said:
"Sure, I can help you meet Steven later."
I wasn't sure if he tried to brag that he knew Steven or if he thought I was coming onto him and this was some kind of perverted game he was hoping to play. Either way I was surprised and disgusted and excused myself immediately.
I kept looking for Sam, and asked a couple of security guards who had no idea who Sam was. I even asked for "someone in the crew who speaks English with an American accent" as that only left Sam and Wes and seemed like safe bet they would've noticed. Nothing. Then I saw Hans and thought to myself: "I can not ask HIM to fetch Sam AGAIN!" and I didn't need to, because then he came out on stage. The beard was a little trimmed, but still there (so apparently his mother hadn's slapped it off his face yet, like he once told us she would).
"Sam! Sam!" I shouted and moved towards the stage. There was a lot of commotion around me but he still managed to hear me and came right on over. At this point the fear of the prospect of having to miss PT when we'd travelled so far to see them really set in and tears started pouring down my face. I felt like an idiot but I couldn't help it. I managed, somehow, to explain the situation to Sam and felt even more like an idiot when I heard myself beg him to help us if he could. He responded by giving me a great, big hug and tell me everything was going to be all right, he'd sort it all out. I wiped my tears and turned around to see Kit standing there, smiling and giving me the thumbs up for finding Sam. Apparently that kind woman by the entrance had let her in to help her look for Sam.
Next Sam told us to relax, the gig wouldn't start for ages and there was some kind of local teen marching band playing before them (and they sucked) and we should head over to the adjoining café before the gig and we'd still get to the front, no worries.
We sat down and the woman from the entrance served us tea and some weird looking cake-thing that apparently was a local specialty. You poured boiling water into it and it soaked it up and tasted even better than before. Really weird, but it was great. We looked out the window and saw this beautiful sunlit street (despite the fact that it had been dark outside when we queued to get into the venue) heading down from a lovely park to some really old stone houses and we were really impressed by this beautiful town. The woman came over and we tried to pay for the tea and cakes, but she said it had been taken care of already.
"What? Was it Sam who paid?"
She smiled and nodded and started talking about Sam and Wes and how nice they were. Then she asked if we knew if Wes was driving over from Tampe on his own (this is how I know we weren't in Tampa) but we had no idea.
I think this is where I woke up, and my first thought was that the view from the café window didn't match Florida. The stone houses were too old (like 14th, 15th century) and the park looked very English, nature-wise.
This dream was just a lot of the good experiences from our recent trip to the UK (which was a great success in every way, despite my worries!) mixed in with some odd stuff that I always find in my dreams. Blogs about the UK trip (that got extended to Finland) will be posted on www.myspace.com/campmanerg before New Year's, should you want to read about it.
Friday, 28 December 2007
Monday, 3 December 2007
The Dream of December 2-3
Things start out normal enough, but then there are some things that are just weird, and some things that are a bit... well, I won't get too graphic. Then there are a couple of things so weird I still, even as I write this, can't decide whether to include them or not.
OK. Once again the upcoming PT trip rears it's lovely head and this time things started out in the area I lived in between ages two and eleven. It was dark and Kit and I were waiting for the airport coach to arrive. I'm not sure what happened after we saw the bus arrive but then we were on this huge cruise ship, probably a lot like the one we'll be going on in March. Anyway, Beppo and Linnéa had joined us now, and why they were there I have no idea since this probably was a music cruise and we don't really listen to the same music.
I was off doing my own thing when I somehow ended up in this room that some people were staying in. It looked nothing like the real rooms on these ships, they had a really big living room - with a bath tub in one corner - and a really big bedroom next to it. The people staying there were some male musicians, their kids and these two girls who were their assistants (yes, they really were assistants and nothing else, though I have no idea why these guys needed them). One of the guys was supposedly French, though he had this really odd name that he actually had to write down for me to be able to learn it. One first name, two last names. He was living in India, though clearly not Indian, he had long, black hair in a pony tail, and it was quite curly. I'd say he was about 35-40 years old and judging by the teeth he was British (pardon my dental humour, but his teeth were not... bad, but certainly he didn't have that store-bought Hollywood smile), and he had a son who was about nine and had blond hair (and spoke British English). I remember that he was a widower (the man, not the boy), but I don't think he ever really told me, somehow I found out though. So me and French-British-Indian guy got on really well and then I left when it got really late.
Now, here some weird stuff comes in. Somehow, I know there was an earthquake. I think some of the interiors of the boat took some damage, but no one talked about it and everything else was fine. And I never made it back to our room because I met this man on the stairs going down who told me that Beppo had gotten really drunk and vomited on Kit's clothes and she was now washing them in the toilet. So I figured "fuck this" and headed back up to look for my Frenchman. And I found him sitting at a table not far from his room, playing poker. When I showed up he excused himself and we went to his rooms. The others were sleeping in the bed room and there were these windows between the two rooms that had blinds in them, blinds that were closed. And we sat there talking about his work, he was a session guitarist, when he said that he was playing Mejeriet with R.E.M soon. Mejeriet is, by the way, a venue in Lund that I've never been to and that is much too small for R.E.M, a band I don't really like. We agree that we should meet up at that gig and we keep talking. He tries to teach me how to pronounce his name - not that it was a great success - and then... well. There was some making out and removal of clothing. Aaaand then (here be one of the parts so weird that you're all going to think I'm deranged), for some reason, I was leaning over the bath tub and he was rinsing my hair, as if I'd had schampoo in it or something (which I hadn't). After this, I was in the bath tub and he was sitting next to it and we were kissing when I realised that the other people staying in that room
were watching us through the window. They were smiling. Not in a perverted way but more like "aww, our friend has finally found a girl". He got up to go in there and tell them to bugger off, or something, and I grabbed a towel and got out of the tub. My bra was on a table right next to the tub, except when I looked now there were ten bras, or something like that. I started looking for the one I felt sure I'd been wearing - because all of the other ones looked like other bras of mine. Thinking I must have remembered wrong I picked one up, and it was a 95 D (yup, European sizes, live with it) which is too big for me. Then I picked up another one which was "90A - for men" and I remember thinking "wtf???" in the dream before I put it back down and found the one I'd been wearing.
When I was dressed I felt a bit embarrassed and decided to head back to my room for some serious girl talk with Linnéa, who is really good at that stuff. But she's packing and says she has to go catch a train (apparently we're no longer on a ship, but at a hotel or something) to get home.* She says that she could ride with her parents in their car and leave thirty minutes later but that a car ride was probably the last thing her stomach flu needed. And then my mobile alarm clock went off and woke me up.
*As I typed this I had a recollection of a dream I must've had like six months ago where I was at this railway station that wasn't huge or anything, but had... Instead of tunnels running under the tracks that people could use to get to the platforms they had huge steel constructions with stairs and stuff to walk around. And it was dark out but this place was really well lit. I might have been chased by someone, because later in the same dream I remember being on a train, trying to run and hide from someone. Strange how thinking of some dreams brings back memories of other ones, isn't it?
So, that was my weird dream. The rinsing out my hair and bra for men was... well, weird. But I still maintain that Kit's dream that featured Peter Hammill speaking Swedish in a Scanian accent was weirder. I haven't dreamt about Peter Hammill for a long time. I hope I will soon. And I really hope that he's got his normal language and accent.
Though, at least my Frenchman was quite attractive. That's something, I guess.
OK. Once again the upcoming PT trip rears it's lovely head and this time things started out in the area I lived in between ages two and eleven. It was dark and Kit and I were waiting for the airport coach to arrive. I'm not sure what happened after we saw the bus arrive but then we were on this huge cruise ship, probably a lot like the one we'll be going on in March. Anyway, Beppo and Linnéa had joined us now, and why they were there I have no idea since this probably was a music cruise and we don't really listen to the same music.
I was off doing my own thing when I somehow ended up in this room that some people were staying in. It looked nothing like the real rooms on these ships, they had a really big living room - with a bath tub in one corner - and a really big bedroom next to it. The people staying there were some male musicians, their kids and these two girls who were their assistants (yes, they really were assistants and nothing else, though I have no idea why these guys needed them). One of the guys was supposedly French, though he had this really odd name that he actually had to write down for me to be able to learn it. One first name, two last names. He was living in India, though clearly not Indian, he had long, black hair in a pony tail, and it was quite curly. I'd say he was about 35-40 years old and judging by the teeth he was British (pardon my dental humour, but his teeth were not... bad, but certainly he didn't have that store-bought Hollywood smile), and he had a son who was about nine and had blond hair (and spoke British English). I remember that he was a widower (the man, not the boy), but I don't think he ever really told me, somehow I found out though. So me and French-British-Indian guy got on really well and then I left when it got really late.
Now, here some weird stuff comes in. Somehow, I know there was an earthquake. I think some of the interiors of the boat took some damage, but no one talked about it and everything else was fine. And I never made it back to our room because I met this man on the stairs going down who told me that Beppo had gotten really drunk and vomited on Kit's clothes and she was now washing them in the toilet. So I figured "fuck this" and headed back up to look for my Frenchman. And I found him sitting at a table not far from his room, playing poker. When I showed up he excused himself and we went to his rooms. The others were sleeping in the bed room and there were these windows between the two rooms that had blinds in them, blinds that were closed. And we sat there talking about his work, he was a session guitarist, when he said that he was playing Mejeriet with R.E.M soon. Mejeriet is, by the way, a venue in Lund that I've never been to and that is much too small for R.E.M, a band I don't really like. We agree that we should meet up at that gig and we keep talking. He tries to teach me how to pronounce his name - not that it was a great success - and then... well. There was some making out and removal of clothing. Aaaand then (here be one of the parts so weird that you're all going to think I'm deranged), for some reason, I was leaning over the bath tub and he was rinsing my hair, as if I'd had schampoo in it or something (which I hadn't). After this, I was in the bath tub and he was sitting next to it and we were kissing when I realised that the other people staying in that room
were watching us through the window. They were smiling. Not in a perverted way but more like "aww, our friend has finally found a girl". He got up to go in there and tell them to bugger off, or something, and I grabbed a towel and got out of the tub. My bra was on a table right next to the tub, except when I looked now there were ten bras, or something like that. I started looking for the one I felt sure I'd been wearing - because all of the other ones looked like other bras of mine. Thinking I must have remembered wrong I picked one up, and it was a 95 D (yup, European sizes, live with it) which is too big for me. Then I picked up another one which was "90A - for men" and I remember thinking "wtf???" in the dream before I put it back down and found the one I'd been wearing.
When I was dressed I felt a bit embarrassed and decided to head back to my room for some serious girl talk with Linnéa, who is really good at that stuff. But she's packing and says she has to go catch a train (apparently we're no longer on a ship, but at a hotel or something) to get home.* She says that she could ride with her parents in their car and leave thirty minutes later but that a car ride was probably the last thing her stomach flu needed. And then my mobile alarm clock went off and woke me up.
*As I typed this I had a recollection of a dream I must've had like six months ago where I was at this railway station that wasn't huge or anything, but had... Instead of tunnels running under the tracks that people could use to get to the platforms they had huge steel constructions with stairs and stuff to walk around. And it was dark out but this place was really well lit. I might have been chased by someone, because later in the same dream I remember being on a train, trying to run and hide from someone. Strange how thinking of some dreams brings back memories of other ones, isn't it?
So, that was my weird dream. The rinsing out my hair and bra for men was... well, weird. But I still maintain that Kit's dream that featured Peter Hammill speaking Swedish in a Scanian accent was weirder. I haven't dreamt about Peter Hammill for a long time. I hope I will soon. And I really hope that he's got his normal language and accent.
Though, at least my Frenchman was quite attractive. That's something, I guess.
Wednesday, 28 November 2007
The Dreams of November 27-28
I know for a fact that there were at least three dreams, but there's one I just can not remember at the moment, and the two I do remember are a bit blurry, but here goes:
In the first one I was in what could only be described as something that reminds me of a castle, but it was probably "our time", and not the Middle Ages or something. I think I may have been part of a royal family, but we were quite normal. I remember that it was really hot outside and that that the environment was very dry, definitely not Sweden. And for some reason an old class mate of mine was my brother and we were like... the king's children or something. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but somehow he... sort of fell down a well. Except it wasn't a well, it was more of a hatch in the ground and there was this enormous underground space there... and he was hanging from a rope or something. I have no idea why we didn't get him out, but we couldn't. And so we called in MacGyver. Yup. MacGyver. He did his thing and got my, sort of, brother out of the uhhh well-hatch-thingie.
Then I think there was perhaps some kind of segue (which would be the dream I can't remember) into the next one, because I remember me and my mum getting out of the car (her new car, again, I wonder why it keeps appearing in my dreams - I must really like that damn car) in Nässjö, where her parents live. And I'm not sure what happened next but I remember that we were playing a board game or something, and there was something about getting these little creatures around in a circle a number of times. Depending on which creature you had they had to make it around the board a different amount of times. Because they moved at different speeds, though you were still the person moving them around. I can't explain it but they both moved on their own and didn't. All of them were black and left little trails of black goo that vanished after a few seconds. They kind of reminded me of liquorice.
This is all I remember. For once, I really can not figure out what brought these dreams on. There's nothing in them I can relate to anything, really. Except going to my grandparents. Christmas is coming up so I'll be going there with my mum and my brother, but that's it. Anyone want to have a go at this one?
In the first one I was in what could only be described as something that reminds me of a castle, but it was probably "our time", and not the Middle Ages or something. I think I may have been part of a royal family, but we were quite normal. I remember that it was really hot outside and that that the environment was very dry, definitely not Sweden. And for some reason an old class mate of mine was my brother and we were like... the king's children or something. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but somehow he... sort of fell down a well. Except it wasn't a well, it was more of a hatch in the ground and there was this enormous underground space there... and he was hanging from a rope or something. I have no idea why we didn't get him out, but we couldn't. And so we called in MacGyver. Yup. MacGyver. He did his thing and got my, sort of, brother out of the uhhh well-hatch-thingie.
Then I think there was perhaps some kind of segue (which would be the dream I can't remember) into the next one, because I remember me and my mum getting out of the car (her new car, again, I wonder why it keeps appearing in my dreams - I must really like that damn car) in Nässjö, where her parents live. And I'm not sure what happened next but I remember that we were playing a board game or something, and there was something about getting these little creatures around in a circle a number of times. Depending on which creature you had they had to make it around the board a different amount of times. Because they moved at different speeds, though you were still the person moving them around. I can't explain it but they both moved on their own and didn't. All of them were black and left little trails of black goo that vanished after a few seconds. They kind of reminded me of liquorice.
This is all I remember. For once, I really can not figure out what brought these dreams on. There's nothing in them I can relate to anything, really. Except going to my grandparents. Christmas is coming up so I'll be going there with my mum and my brother, but that's it. Anyone want to have a go at this one?
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
The Dream of November 12-13
Well, boys and girls, it's Porcupine Tree tour season. You know what that means? Yup. Loads, and loads of odd, scary and totally weird Porcupine Tree gig-dreams for me. Bus drivers go on strike, blizzards ground all flights to the UK, RyanAir goes bankrupt and we're nuked, band members get sick and postpone all December UK gigs... I tell you, the upcoming trip is going to give me ulcers. Especially since there has been no word on the tickets yet. Fucking seetickets idiots. How hard is it to reply to an e-mail and give an update on the tickets? Do they not have opposable thumbs?
Aaaaanyway. So, I had this dream that was... Well, I have to clear some things up first. This gig was always in a small venue in what looked like this old barn-like place. But the mood kept changing for me. At first it was as if it was just a regular PT gig, and Kit and I were so excited, but there were technical problems. Then the mood shifted and suddenly this was a PT gig like... ten years ago and the band was unknown, getting screwed over by the venue and promoter, and Kit and I did not know each other (although we were the same ages we are now).
Before the gig started, there were hardly any people in the venue, and we talked to Steven for a while up front by the stage. And it was really cool because we weren't nervous in the slightest and just had a really nice conversation with him. We've talked to Steven and the rest of the band several times, and while it's a lot easier now we still do feel reeeaaally nervous, which is why I vividly remember how wonderful this conversation was.
After we'd talked the band played and there were problems or something and they had to take a break. Everyone got frustrated and we weren't sure what was going on. When they came back the mood had changed and it was ten years earlier, the band was different - even though they were still their present day selves and Gavin and Wes were there - and Kit was a total stranger to me. There was this crazy old woman behind me that I talked to, she had no clue who this band was, she just happened to live in the rural area that the gig took place in. It was up north, in a province called Dalarna (sometimes referred to as Dalecarlia in English) - that I've never been to - and in my dream all the people there were cracked. I was the only one who was there for the band, well, Kit probably was too, but at this point I didn't know her.
They took another break, during which more scary people talked to me, and then they came back on. After a few more songs, and a few more problems I suddenly saw SW with this advent calendar thing. And he opened the 24th "door" and read the name of what sounded like a snapsvisa, in quite impressive Swedish pronounciation. Apparently, the fact that this was written in the advent calendar meant that they had to play it. I do not know if they did, I suppose I would have remembered, and then they finished the gig and I got to talk a bit to SW. I said it was such a shame that they'd pulled out that snapsvisa for no good reason. He said that promoters in some countries did that a lot to them and that they had to put up with it. Apparently it was also quite common in Poland. I suggested that next time they should just tell the promoter to fuck off. At this point I think I suggested a couple of fitting phrases in Swedish that could be used for this purpose, and SW had no problem with them, he must've picked up on a lot of Swedish while working with Opeth and Paatos. Then he excused himself and said the band had to leave now, and just before he left I called out to him and told him that the only phrase I knew in Polish might help when Polish promoters tried the same thing. He asked what it was, I told him, and he asked me to repeat it. Clearly his Polish wasn't as good as his Swedish. So I did and he wondered what it meant. I told him that it means "you're a fucking dick". And, this actually IS the only phrase I know how to say in Polish (can't type it though, sorry).
Again, the mood shifted, and now Kit and I were leaving the messed up gig. The mood was so subdued that I think in this alternate-universe-mood the band had said they'd never play in Sweden again. Stupid Sweden.
Aaaaanyway. So, I had this dream that was... Well, I have to clear some things up first. This gig was always in a small venue in what looked like this old barn-like place. But the mood kept changing for me. At first it was as if it was just a regular PT gig, and Kit and I were so excited, but there were technical problems. Then the mood shifted and suddenly this was a PT gig like... ten years ago and the band was unknown, getting screwed over by the venue and promoter, and Kit and I did not know each other (although we were the same ages we are now).
Before the gig started, there were hardly any people in the venue, and we talked to Steven for a while up front by the stage. And it was really cool because we weren't nervous in the slightest and just had a really nice conversation with him. We've talked to Steven and the rest of the band several times, and while it's a lot easier now we still do feel reeeaaally nervous, which is why I vividly remember how wonderful this conversation was.
After we'd talked the band played and there were problems or something and they had to take a break. Everyone got frustrated and we weren't sure what was going on. When they came back the mood had changed and it was ten years earlier, the band was different - even though they were still their present day selves and Gavin and Wes were there - and Kit was a total stranger to me. There was this crazy old woman behind me that I talked to, she had no clue who this band was, she just happened to live in the rural area that the gig took place in. It was up north, in a province called Dalarna (sometimes referred to as Dalecarlia in English) - that I've never been to - and in my dream all the people there were cracked. I was the only one who was there for the band, well, Kit probably was too, but at this point I didn't know her.
They took another break, during which more scary people talked to me, and then they came back on. After a few more songs, and a few more problems I suddenly saw SW with this advent calendar thing. And he opened the 24th "door" and read the name of what sounded like a snapsvisa, in quite impressive Swedish pronounciation. Apparently, the fact that this was written in the advent calendar meant that they had to play it. I do not know if they did, I suppose I would have remembered, and then they finished the gig and I got to talk a bit to SW. I said it was such a shame that they'd pulled out that snapsvisa for no good reason. He said that promoters in some countries did that a lot to them and that they had to put up with it. Apparently it was also quite common in Poland. I suggested that next time they should just tell the promoter to fuck off. At this point I think I suggested a couple of fitting phrases in Swedish that could be used for this purpose, and SW had no problem with them, he must've picked up on a lot of Swedish while working with Opeth and Paatos. Then he excused himself and said the band had to leave now, and just before he left I called out to him and told him that the only phrase I knew in Polish might help when Polish promoters tried the same thing. He asked what it was, I told him, and he asked me to repeat it. Clearly his Polish wasn't as good as his Swedish. So I did and he wondered what it meant. I told him that it means "you're a fucking dick". And, this actually IS the only phrase I know how to say in Polish (can't type it though, sorry).
Again, the mood shifted, and now Kit and I were leaving the messed up gig. The mood was so subdued that I think in this alternate-universe-mood the band had said they'd never play in Sweden again. Stupid Sweden.
Monday, 12 November 2007
The Dream of November 8-9
OK, so it's been a few days since I had this dream and I've been at Kit's and seen Riverside & Anekdoten since, but I did try to "go through" this dream inside my head several times to keep the details as clear as possible.
I was in high school, and for some reason it was this really small, all-girl school. In Sweden we have regular schools run by the municipalities and an increasing number of schools that are run privately. They don't cost money (in most cases at least) and they're usually focused on specific types of subjects. My school was one of these, though why it was all-girls I have no idea. In fact, the thought of going to an all-girl school horrifies me beyond belief.
Anyways, we were on a school trip of some sort. I think we might have been putting together some kind of Lucia celebration, but it could've been anything, really. We were in something that looked a lot like a warehouse. I think there was a boy there that I noticed for some reason, there might have been a conversation or something with him, but this part has become too blurry for me to retell. However, I did see two men in their mid-thirties there and at the time I didn't think anything of them. Just two men, one of them was Asian and one was African.
Something happens, I don't know what, or how, but suddenly I find myself in a house. There's a view from my window and I am very unfamiliar with the surroundings, but I know that I've been kidnapped. For some reason they haven't taken my mobile so I dial 112 (the emergency number in Sweden) and it doesn't work properly. I have no idea what's going on at first, but then for some reason I find out that I'm in Sudan and I dial 00 46 112, hoping that the international access code of Sudan is 00 like in most other countries. Apparently it is, at least in my dreamworld. And when someone answers I tell them my name, personal ID number (everyone in Sweden has one) and that I've been kidnapped and I'm in Sudan, but that I was at school in Norrköping (a town I've never lived in) when it happened. The woman on the other line laughs at me. "This is the emergency number for Uppsala!" Then one of us hangs up.
A few days pass by, someone puts a plate of food under my door every now and then and when I wake up one morning I look out of the window and the view is different. I'm in Hong Kong. I call again, and tell them whatever information I might have left out last time and that I've been moved to Hong Kong - anything that might help them find me there. Nothing. No one believes me.
A few more days go by and I look out the window. I'm in the country-side, in what looks like Sweden. And I realise that the room has never changed, even though the view has. From what I understand, they've been drugging me and I've been hallucinating different environments - probably based on the ethnicities of the two men who kidnapped me. And, again, I call for help and I know that in the end they were caught. But I think I managed to escape on my own first (not sure though, I can't remember actually escaping from the house), because I remember seeing this... place somewhere that has been in my dreams before. It looks like a mixture of three different places I've been to in real life. There's a gravel road with houses on the left side of it, and a field on the right. It goes up a slope and turns a bit to the right, past another house, and I think it leads to the house I was held in. But that same place has appeared before in dreams of mine, I'm certain of it. And the weird part is, as I look up towards the end of that road I can hear myself breathe. Drawing fast and heavy breaths, and my heart is always beating very fast.
I think I may have run from something there before. I'm desperately trying to remember in what dream, or dreams, I've been to that place, but it's difficult. Somehow I'm certain that a detailed dream has taken place there, but I think it's been six months, at least, since I had it. Damn. Should've started this blog earlier. (:-P
I was in high school, and for some reason it was this really small, all-girl school. In Sweden we have regular schools run by the municipalities and an increasing number of schools that are run privately. They don't cost money (in most cases at least) and they're usually focused on specific types of subjects. My school was one of these, though why it was all-girls I have no idea. In fact, the thought of going to an all-girl school horrifies me beyond belief.
Anyways, we were on a school trip of some sort. I think we might have been putting together some kind of Lucia celebration, but it could've been anything, really. We were in something that looked a lot like a warehouse. I think there was a boy there that I noticed for some reason, there might have been a conversation or something with him, but this part has become too blurry for me to retell. However, I did see two men in their mid-thirties there and at the time I didn't think anything of them. Just two men, one of them was Asian and one was African.
Something happens, I don't know what, or how, but suddenly I find myself in a house. There's a view from my window and I am very unfamiliar with the surroundings, but I know that I've been kidnapped. For some reason they haven't taken my mobile so I dial 112 (the emergency number in Sweden) and it doesn't work properly. I have no idea what's going on at first, but then for some reason I find out that I'm in Sudan and I dial 00 46 112, hoping that the international access code of Sudan is 00 like in most other countries. Apparently it is, at least in my dreamworld. And when someone answers I tell them my name, personal ID number (everyone in Sweden has one) and that I've been kidnapped and I'm in Sudan, but that I was at school in Norrköping (a town I've never lived in) when it happened. The woman on the other line laughs at me. "This is the emergency number for Uppsala!" Then one of us hangs up.
A few days pass by, someone puts a plate of food under my door every now and then and when I wake up one morning I look out of the window and the view is different. I'm in Hong Kong. I call again, and tell them whatever information I might have left out last time and that I've been moved to Hong Kong - anything that might help them find me there. Nothing. No one believes me.
A few more days go by and I look out the window. I'm in the country-side, in what looks like Sweden. And I realise that the room has never changed, even though the view has. From what I understand, they've been drugging me and I've been hallucinating different environments - probably based on the ethnicities of the two men who kidnapped me. And, again, I call for help and I know that in the end they were caught. But I think I managed to escape on my own first (not sure though, I can't remember actually escaping from the house), because I remember seeing this... place somewhere that has been in my dreams before. It looks like a mixture of three different places I've been to in real life. There's a gravel road with houses on the left side of it, and a field on the right. It goes up a slope and turns a bit to the right, past another house, and I think it leads to the house I was held in. But that same place has appeared before in dreams of mine, I'm certain of it. And the weird part is, as I look up towards the end of that road I can hear myself breathe. Drawing fast and heavy breaths, and my heart is always beating very fast.
I think I may have run from something there before. I'm desperately trying to remember in what dream, or dreams, I've been to that place, but it's difficult. Somehow I'm certain that a detailed dream has taken place there, but I think it's been six months, at least, since I had it. Damn. Should've started this blog earlier. (:-P
Thursday, 1 November 2007
The Dream of October 31 - November 1
So, this dream began with me and Kit piloting a commercial airplane. Huge thing, much larger than the RyanAir ones I'm used to. And it was maroon, not sure that matters, but still. Apparently my art class was going somewhere, because both my professors and all the people in my class were on the plane. Why Kit was there, I have no idea. Nor why we were the ones flying the damn thing. The really odd thing (well, ONE of the really odd things) was that we were indoors when we were preparing for takeoff. Like in a long, huge corridor. And we were not on the ground floor of the building, but on the second floor, making this even weirder. The building had a roof that covered it all the way to the end of the landing strip where there was no wall or anything. It was as if someone had just torn off the wall and the building ended there. And still we were supposed to get the plane to take off at the exact end of the runway, otherwise the plane would fall down to the ground when we reached the end. If you know me and Kit at all you will probably have realised by now that that's exactly what happened. And my teachers, my class... They were all yelling att me, telling me I fucked up and that I'd ruined the school trip. The plane was still fine, the ten feet drop had done nothing to damage it, and we were on this road right by a huge lake. There was a bridge across it and I suggested we try to take off from the bridge instead. Again, people yelled at me. This time for my stupid ideas. So I said: "Well, let's just... drive out on the bridge and go to Visingsö!" Visingsö is an island in the middle of Lake Vättern, the second largest lake in Sweden. I grew up in Jönköping, at the southern tip of that lake and I can tell you that there is no bridge to that island. But still, we went on the bridge in our plane.
Now, we've arrived on the island and we're looking around. It would make sense that we'd be going to view art or architecture, but suddenly we were in this huge place that held a whole bunch of smaller buildings inside it. They were fairly large, but not large enough to fit what the doors to them actually claimed they contained. The sets of pretty much every American daytime soap there is + a few more that don't exist, that I just made up. So we start sprinting down the "street" to look at every little house and see which ones are there. After six or seven of them we reached a much smaller one that didn't have the name of a soap on it, but actually the name of an actor. I don't really know his name and I didn't in the dream either, I just knew who he was anyway. The guy who plays "Renegade". That weirdo... outlaw, or whatever he was, from the TV series with the same name. You know, that 80's one where everyone has weird hair. For some reason, I decide that it would be so much fun to kick down his door, and no doubt he would be impressed. Behind me someone, not Kit, is shouting that I shouldn't. But still I do, and the second the door has been kicked down I know it was a mistake and I run. Not far, just to the sofa that's just nearby. There's a table too, and on the other side is a chair with a woman sitting on it. Then there are shouts from the room of the actor and I hear running steps from somewhere else, and more shouting.
"What the hell?!" said the voice from the room.
"It's all right, it was just a mistake!" shouts one of the two men who are running towards the room.
"Who are those girls? Give me one good reason not to shoot them!" says the man who has emerged from the actor's dressing room - only it's not the dude from Renegade, it's someone I've never seen before.
However, the two men who came running are the dude from Renegade and his sidekick, you know, the native American guy with the even goofier hair. And now I realise it's not the actors, but the actual characters.
"That one...", says Renegade, indicating the woman in the chair, "is my wife."
"And the other one...", says the sidekick dude, "is my girlfriend."
Now, I know that what he said saved my life and I ought to be grateful, but still, all I can do is to, very loudly, blurt out: "EEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" at the thought of us being a couple.
And then I woke up.
Now, we've arrived on the island and we're looking around. It would make sense that we'd be going to view art or architecture, but suddenly we were in this huge place that held a whole bunch of smaller buildings inside it. They were fairly large, but not large enough to fit what the doors to them actually claimed they contained. The sets of pretty much every American daytime soap there is + a few more that don't exist, that I just made up. So we start sprinting down the "street" to look at every little house and see which ones are there. After six or seven of them we reached a much smaller one that didn't have the name of a soap on it, but actually the name of an actor. I don't really know his name and I didn't in the dream either, I just knew who he was anyway. The guy who plays "Renegade". That weirdo... outlaw, or whatever he was, from the TV series with the same name. You know, that 80's one where everyone has weird hair. For some reason, I decide that it would be so much fun to kick down his door, and no doubt he would be impressed. Behind me someone, not Kit, is shouting that I shouldn't. But still I do, and the second the door has been kicked down I know it was a mistake and I run. Not far, just to the sofa that's just nearby. There's a table too, and on the other side is a chair with a woman sitting on it. Then there are shouts from the room of the actor and I hear running steps from somewhere else, and more shouting.
"What the hell?!" said the voice from the room.
"It's all right, it was just a mistake!" shouts one of the two men who are running towards the room.
"Who are those girls? Give me one good reason not to shoot them!" says the man who has emerged from the actor's dressing room - only it's not the dude from Renegade, it's someone I've never seen before.
However, the two men who came running are the dude from Renegade and his sidekick, you know, the native American guy with the even goofier hair. And now I realise it's not the actors, but the actual characters.
"That one...", says Renegade, indicating the woman in the chair, "is my wife."
"And the other one...", says the sidekick dude, "is my girlfriend."
Now, I know that what he said saved my life and I ought to be grateful, but still, all I can do is to, very loudly, blurt out: "EEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" at the thought of us being a couple.
And then I woke up.
Saturday, 20 October 2007
The Dream of October 20th, approx. 3am - 4am CET
I just awoke from this dream about half an hour ago and I think I need to get it out of my system before I try to sleep again, because just now - as soon as I started to drift off - I wound up right back inside it, even before I was even fully asleep. And it's not a funny dream, well, perhaps parts of it might seem to someone who just reads it, but every moment of it was drenched in anxiety, fear and nausea. I'll make little comments about how things relate to reality as I go along, since it seems necessary this time.
It started off all right, I think I was having a dream inside my dream - or it was its own dream and I just was aware of the fact that it was not real as the second dream started. I dreamt that Rush were playing (as they will on October 27th) but that they played completely different songs from their real ones. I vividly remember that they were playing "What's the colour of love?" (a song performed by two Swedish women sometime in the late 80's, I think. It's also a song my choir sings occasionally and I went to a party with my choir last night) and they were really upset with me - or possibly the whole crowd - for not knowing and singing along to the songs (odd, since after singing this one with my choir, I know it a lot better than most Rush songs). I think they stormed off the stage and that most of my friends who were at the gig blamed me for it. Kit, Magnus, Cristoffer, Claes, Harald - and loads of others.
Then the second dream began, or I awoke from this one in my dream. And I was so frightened of this happening that I began to search frantically for Rush songs on my comp to learn them. But at the same time I had a lot of other things going on too - stories I was reading online, and videos I was watching. I think that one of the stories had some kind of sexual content. There was something weird about how I was feeling, and I remember that details of the dream were sort of swimming together and I know that Rush somehow got affected by this in my dream. I definitely didn't dream that I was having sex with them or imagining that I was in the dream, but I am very certain that there was something about that, even if it's something untangible (It's important to straighten out that there was something sexual about one of those stories since something later in the dream will be affected by it). I remember that one of the videos I had going on youtube was a man talking on a grassy hill with a tree that was overlooking the ocean and it was quite windy there.
At some point, the focus shifts from what is happening on the computer to what is happening in the room, and I somehow become aware that not everything is right. I'm living in a room that seems to be on a floor that's more of an attic of this old house, the walls are wooden and the ceiling is at an angle (I don't know how to describe this in English, really, except point out that the ceiling was higher in one end of the room and lower in another - not just flat and at the same distance from the floor in every part of the room). I'm not sure if I exit the room first or not, and I'm not sure if we say anything before this, but I start talking loudly to my mum who is in the room next to mine and at some point she says:
'I know it's really warm, but just try to sleep!'
and I, who had not even noticed anything odd in temperature, go to check my thermometer, which is attached to a toilet in my room. It might be in a small bathroom that's sort of part of the room, I don't remember exactly, but it's still a very odd place to keep a thermometer and I think I realise this in the dream too. It's at 36,7 degrees celsius, I think. That's body temperature - so yes, it's warm as hell. And only now do I notice. Now that I have other things start to become apparent, like that the humidity and heat of the room have started to make items softer, and almost melt.The desk and computer screen have the texture of a very thick kind of paper that's been soaked in water. Next, I look up and see that the lamp on my ceiling has this little net attached around it, and inside them are bugs. Big ones. They've got a dirty kind of yellowish bodies that are about the size and shapes of large cigars, and wings so they're flying around in there. It's not a big net as such, and there are quite a few bugs so it's cramped. I alert my mother about this, fear making my heart beat faster and increasing my dread, unease and nausea about the whole situation in the dream.
'Which bugs? The large yellow ones flying around the lamps?' she then yelled from inside her room.
'Yes!'
'Oh, they're harmless! I'm more concerned about the big black ones crawling around under my bed.'
My breathing is really fast now and I know that I'm almost in tears, I'm so afraid. And I get on my knees and look under the bed - but I can't for the life of me remember if I found any bugs under there. I probably did, because I remember what those black ones looked like. They were like crayfish, only not quite so large (though, close enough to make them absolutely horrifying). And I storm into my mother's room without knocking. I remember thinking that this was wrong but at the same time she didn't say anything about it. Though, I have the same kind of hazy recollection of her doing something that I didn't want to interrupt, or not want to see or... I have no idea what - nothing perverted or anything, just something private. Just that sense of having bothered someone.
'What the hell are we going to do?' I asked, in a pleading voice.
'It'll be all right,' she says, but I am convinced that it won't be.
When I exit the room someone comes out of the room opposite hers. There's this little area by the stairs with no decorations except an ugly old rug of some kind, and another lamp on the ceiling with a net and trapped yellow bugs in it. There are four or five doors up there and the person who comes out is my mother's tenant. I know this, and this is probably the only part that I can, now, think about and see the humour in without being reminded about the way I felt throughout the dream. The tenant is Dennis Rodman. Yup. And in the dream it's the most natural thing in the world to have the NBA hero renting a room in my mum's old house. He wonders what all the loud talking is all about and does not seem bothered by any of the things wrong with the house.
I go back to my room and now my brother has joined me and he's noticed that I have a lot of stuff going on with my comp.
'Whoa, you need to upgrade your [enter name of some weird software that makes everything run smoother and definitely does not exist]! There's a new version out, it's great!'
'Not now, I'll do it later!' I reply, in a forbidding voice since I am aware of the story (or whatever it was) of a sexual nature that I still have open in word, or firefox.
'But see here, look!' he says, and he's opened a picture of the tray icon of the new, updated version of the software, 'Look at this oven - it's so much better than the old oven!'
Yes, I know. Oven? But for some reason, this makes perfect sense. The tray icon picture is definitely the picture of an oven - even though it's not, I can even sort of describe it. It was black with some red bits in it, the bottom half of the icon is mostly red - and all that redness illustrates how good the software is, compared to my old "oven" which is black and green - and the green in the black is much more sparse than the red ones on his version. Yeah, OK, this was funny too - but remember that in this dream not only did this software make sense to me, but I was also in a excruciatingly hot and humid room with bugs the size of my hands in it, a toilet with a thermometer. All this in an old, wooden house that also had Dennis Rodman living in it. Yeah, OK, the whole scenario is hilarious - but I was so frightened, and felt so sick and afraid in the dream - I felt worse than I have in any dream for a long time.
While my brother was updating that software I walked over to the only window in the room and found that my view was that same grassy hill with a tree that I had seen in the video on Youtube, and I had not been aware of this before. Then I sat down on the floor and a kitten walks up to me, it's eight weeks old (approx.) and I know that I have stolen it from a girl who was my best friend when I was ten but who later moved and we lost contact, running into each other just once a few years ago. The kitten (which by the way is white and grey, definitely REAL and in reality belongs to my brother's girlfriend - though it's a bit older now) walks up to me like it wants to be stroked or cuddled, but at first I ignore it. But as it turns to walk away I realise that I want to cuddle it and reach out to grab it. As I do, it apparently decides that it doesn't want to be cuddled and tries to walk away from my hand, and I tighten my grip to seize it and lift it up. But, and this was SO horrible in the dream, my grip isn't on the body right behind the front legs, where I would normally hold a kitten that I want to lift. I squeeze tha back of its body instead and I squeezed too hard. I remember that I could feel the internal organs through it's skin and fur and bile rose in my throat. The kitten seemed unharmed though and I immediately put it in my lap to make sure it was all right. By now, my brother had also sat down on the floor right opposite me. The kitten leaves my lap to go to my brother instead. I remember telling him that I've borrowed the cat and will be watching it for a few days.
'Oh,' he says, and that's the last thing I remember before waking up.
And now I'm supposed to be getting up in an hour to take a shower, pack a few things, and catch a train to Gävle with my friend Beppo. I had trouble falling asleep in the first place and as I mentioned couldn't shake the dream environment as I was trying to fall back to sleep before. But I'll try again now, maybe I can get half an hour of shut-eye.
Anyways, here's hoping the next dream is more pleasant but equally weird.
I am SO not reading all this through to check for mistakes and typos, even when I do I've noticed I miss loads of them. Perhaps something about just having awoken and hurrying to type out one's dreams before they are forgotten makes those mistakes a bit more frequent than they normally are. (:-P
It started off all right, I think I was having a dream inside my dream - or it was its own dream and I just was aware of the fact that it was not real as the second dream started. I dreamt that Rush were playing (as they will on October 27th) but that they played completely different songs from their real ones. I vividly remember that they were playing "What's the colour of love?" (a song performed by two Swedish women sometime in the late 80's, I think. It's also a song my choir sings occasionally and I went to a party with my choir last night) and they were really upset with me - or possibly the whole crowd - for not knowing and singing along to the songs (odd, since after singing this one with my choir, I know it a lot better than most Rush songs). I think they stormed off the stage and that most of my friends who were at the gig blamed me for it. Kit, Magnus, Cristoffer, Claes, Harald - and loads of others.
Then the second dream began, or I awoke from this one in my dream. And I was so frightened of this happening that I began to search frantically for Rush songs on my comp to learn them. But at the same time I had a lot of other things going on too - stories I was reading online, and videos I was watching. I think that one of the stories had some kind of sexual content. There was something weird about how I was feeling, and I remember that details of the dream were sort of swimming together and I know that Rush somehow got affected by this in my dream. I definitely didn't dream that I was having sex with them or imagining that I was in the dream, but I am very certain that there was something about that, even if it's something untangible (It's important to straighten out that there was something sexual about one of those stories since something later in the dream will be affected by it). I remember that one of the videos I had going on youtube was a man talking on a grassy hill with a tree that was overlooking the ocean and it was quite windy there.
At some point, the focus shifts from what is happening on the computer to what is happening in the room, and I somehow become aware that not everything is right. I'm living in a room that seems to be on a floor that's more of an attic of this old house, the walls are wooden and the ceiling is at an angle (I don't know how to describe this in English, really, except point out that the ceiling was higher in one end of the room and lower in another - not just flat and at the same distance from the floor in every part of the room). I'm not sure if I exit the room first or not, and I'm not sure if we say anything before this, but I start talking loudly to my mum who is in the room next to mine and at some point she says:
'I know it's really warm, but just try to sleep!'
and I, who had not even noticed anything odd in temperature, go to check my thermometer, which is attached to a toilet in my room. It might be in a small bathroom that's sort of part of the room, I don't remember exactly, but it's still a very odd place to keep a thermometer and I think I realise this in the dream too. It's at 36,7 degrees celsius, I think. That's body temperature - so yes, it's warm as hell. And only now do I notice. Now that I have other things start to become apparent, like that the humidity and heat of the room have started to make items softer, and almost melt.The desk and computer screen have the texture of a very thick kind of paper that's been soaked in water. Next, I look up and see that the lamp on my ceiling has this little net attached around it, and inside them are bugs. Big ones. They've got a dirty kind of yellowish bodies that are about the size and shapes of large cigars, and wings so they're flying around in there. It's not a big net as such, and there are quite a few bugs so it's cramped. I alert my mother about this, fear making my heart beat faster and increasing my dread, unease and nausea about the whole situation in the dream.
'Which bugs? The large yellow ones flying around the lamps?' she then yelled from inside her room.
'Yes!'
'Oh, they're harmless! I'm more concerned about the big black ones crawling around under my bed.'
My breathing is really fast now and I know that I'm almost in tears, I'm so afraid. And I get on my knees and look under the bed - but I can't for the life of me remember if I found any bugs under there. I probably did, because I remember what those black ones looked like. They were like crayfish, only not quite so large (though, close enough to make them absolutely horrifying). And I storm into my mother's room without knocking. I remember thinking that this was wrong but at the same time she didn't say anything about it. Though, I have the same kind of hazy recollection of her doing something that I didn't want to interrupt, or not want to see or... I have no idea what - nothing perverted or anything, just something private. Just that sense of having bothered someone.
'What the hell are we going to do?' I asked, in a pleading voice.
'It'll be all right,' she says, but I am convinced that it won't be.
When I exit the room someone comes out of the room opposite hers. There's this little area by the stairs with no decorations except an ugly old rug of some kind, and another lamp on the ceiling with a net and trapped yellow bugs in it. There are four or five doors up there and the person who comes out is my mother's tenant. I know this, and this is probably the only part that I can, now, think about and see the humour in without being reminded about the way I felt throughout the dream. The tenant is Dennis Rodman. Yup. And in the dream it's the most natural thing in the world to have the NBA hero renting a room in my mum's old house. He wonders what all the loud talking is all about and does not seem bothered by any of the things wrong with the house.
I go back to my room and now my brother has joined me and he's noticed that I have a lot of stuff going on with my comp.
'Whoa, you need to upgrade your [enter name of some weird software that makes everything run smoother and definitely does not exist]! There's a new version out, it's great!'
'Not now, I'll do it later!' I reply, in a forbidding voice since I am aware of the story (or whatever it was) of a sexual nature that I still have open in word, or firefox.
'But see here, look!' he says, and he's opened a picture of the tray icon of the new, updated version of the software, 'Look at this oven - it's so much better than the old oven!'
Yes, I know. Oven? But for some reason, this makes perfect sense. The tray icon picture is definitely the picture of an oven - even though it's not, I can even sort of describe it. It was black with some red bits in it, the bottom half of the icon is mostly red - and all that redness illustrates how good the software is, compared to my old "oven" which is black and green - and the green in the black is much more sparse than the red ones on his version. Yeah, OK, this was funny too - but remember that in this dream not only did this software make sense to me, but I was also in a excruciatingly hot and humid room with bugs the size of my hands in it, a toilet with a thermometer. All this in an old, wooden house that also had Dennis Rodman living in it. Yeah, OK, the whole scenario is hilarious - but I was so frightened, and felt so sick and afraid in the dream - I felt worse than I have in any dream for a long time.
While my brother was updating that software I walked over to the only window in the room and found that my view was that same grassy hill with a tree that I had seen in the video on Youtube, and I had not been aware of this before. Then I sat down on the floor and a kitten walks up to me, it's eight weeks old (approx.) and I know that I have stolen it from a girl who was my best friend when I was ten but who later moved and we lost contact, running into each other just once a few years ago. The kitten (which by the way is white and grey, definitely REAL and in reality belongs to my brother's girlfriend - though it's a bit older now) walks up to me like it wants to be stroked or cuddled, but at first I ignore it. But as it turns to walk away I realise that I want to cuddle it and reach out to grab it. As I do, it apparently decides that it doesn't want to be cuddled and tries to walk away from my hand, and I tighten my grip to seize it and lift it up. But, and this was SO horrible in the dream, my grip isn't on the body right behind the front legs, where I would normally hold a kitten that I want to lift. I squeeze tha back of its body instead and I squeezed too hard. I remember that I could feel the internal organs through it's skin and fur and bile rose in my throat. The kitten seemed unharmed though and I immediately put it in my lap to make sure it was all right. By now, my brother had also sat down on the floor right opposite me. The kitten leaves my lap to go to my brother instead. I remember telling him that I've borrowed the cat and will be watching it for a few days.
'Oh,' he says, and that's the last thing I remember before waking up.
And now I'm supposed to be getting up in an hour to take a shower, pack a few things, and catch a train to Gävle with my friend Beppo. I had trouble falling asleep in the first place and as I mentioned couldn't shake the dream environment as I was trying to fall back to sleep before. But I'll try again now, maybe I can get half an hour of shut-eye.
Anyways, here's hoping the next dream is more pleasant but equally weird.
I am SO not reading all this through to check for mistakes and typos, even when I do I've noticed I miss loads of them. Perhaps something about just having awoken and hurrying to type out one's dreams before they are forgotten makes those mistakes a bit more frequent than they normally are. (:-P
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