Downstairs (a #dream)

My great aunt and I visited the place where I grew up. In the year 2060. We were welcomed by a lady with a white bop haircut. In her room she held two cuckatoos and a bunch of parakeets. All in two different cages. 

After excanging pleasantries she asked us to wait to tell our story until the chairman of the Timetravelers Welcoming Committee had arrived and quickly asked us what happened to the love of her life, Ezra Berzadi. The moment my great aunt and I wanted to answer that we couldn't answer that question, I suddenly fount myself at a party in a large, squated house.

Someone excitingly told everyone to rush upstairs 'because it's about to happen!' but my daughters and I just smiled and decided we simply wanted to stick together in the large room downstairs.

Dancing (a #dream)

My girfriend at the time and I visited a public outdoor swimming pool. I had forgotten to bring a towel but luckily she had brought two: a white one and a light green one. By the side of the pool (a large, square hole in the ground with no tiles that was drained every couple of hours and refilled) I saw a former colleague (Marco) sitting in a deck chair. On the other side of the table he was sitting next to was a different colleague from the same show we did, some 28 years ago: Roos. Now they had noticed eachother they started happily chatting, leaving me to wander around the terrain while a gentle cover of Eve of Destruction, sung by a woman, was playing over the speakers. 

On a small podium a small band, including a violinist, was setting up and I helped to make sure some of the equipment wouldn't slip into the water by sticking knives in the ground to prevent a small mic stand from tipping over. There was a string of bulb lights hanging over the podium, adding to the nice atmosphere of some 100 people sitting on the floor but also dancing. 

The Exit (a #dream)

We had just moved to a small town in Sweden and I was fourteen again. My older sister (Charlene? Charlotte?) and I didn't feel welcome among the local population at first but that changed after a few parties that mainly she attended. 

I remember the laughter coming out of her room when she had a couple of her new friends over for a sleepover and suddenly found myself a few years older, trying to find my way in a house that seemed to be constructed of only stairs. Some lead to only more stairs, some just hovered above the ground while others ended up against the side of a different set of stairs and others simply disappeared. 

Occassionally I would encounter a couple of boys, teenagers, sitting on the stairs, pointing at me and laughing: "He really can't find the exit, can he?"