Tribe members (a #dream)

Father said I was too young to have my own hammer and chisel. So I ran away and took the cart. It was made up of old car parts welded together and painted bright red. It had no roof and over the head support I had placed a handwoven piece of cloth, creating a makeshift sail to make the cart go even faster. 

The wheels were from a large lawnmower and it went very fast down from the hill where we lived. Racing down, I noticed the small hole in the sandy ground in which Father had buried my future (unfinished) hammer and chisel. 

I almost lost control when I pulled the ropes controlling the front wheels when I wanted to turn left at the bottom of the hill and for a moment only the right wheels touched the ground. Still panting I stood still and noticed a man had saved me from a yet unknown danger. He introduced himself as 'Palmer' and wore a grey warriors outfit. Including a helmet with leather flaps over the ears. 

I was confused because Father had told me only tribe members helped each other. Was this 'Palmer' a member of our tribe? Come to think of it, next to Father I had never seen other tribe members. 

Her face (a #Dream)

A giant creature was gliding through space. On its back a complete ecosystem with grass, trees and a stream. A man (farmer?) was walking towards the head when he noticed a big hole. He fell in and noticed the entrance to a cave, apparently leading into a barely lit tunnel. He climbed a bit up and entered.

Next I was sitting in a cafeteria and was joined by an older colleague from 35 years ago. I noticed he was wearing a shirt with the same repeating pattern I had on a similar shirt. Soon we were joined by a younger colleague, also wearing the same pattern on his shirt, which was more worn and of a different fabric. The repeating pattern was printed on a black background and of a woman from the roaring twenties with a red headdress and a very pale face. She was smoking and the smoke was circling around her face.

Return home (a #dream)

A friend invited me to a party after she was told she could bring someone. Upon arrival the hostess gave me a warm welcome but seemed a bit surprised I hadn't come with a friend she expected instead of the one she brought me. 

Dozens of people where gathered in this small mansion-like house with no other houses for as far as the eye could see. There seemed to be a party going on in every single room and in every room I entered, people were very hospitable towards me and my friend. We partied, laughed, drank and danced until someone told us to join a group going outside.

The next scene was at a fair and most of us were dressed up by now, wearing all kinds of - mostly silly - costumes. Someone had borrowed me theirs. It was fluffy, yellow and had a hole in one of the pockets where I had kept some of my belonings while my regular clothes were still at the house.

It was all fun and games until I realised I had misplaced my house keys. My dream-me was convinced I hadn't lost them along the way but left them in the house and I started to turn and walk back until someone stopped me: "Don't you see the sun is setting and you'll be too late? The house is already on it's way back to one of the Dutch islands: Terschelling and won't be back for a while."

Shrugging I resigned myself to my fate, not knowing if I'd ever be able to return home.

The Snow (a #dream)

There was a rather old book about a journey and a search for a woman in that book. Or maybe the book was hers. Isis? The story was accompanied by music that touched me in a way that music had never touched me before. The book was also a CD or DVD but also a blank postcard. Without text but with a simple watercolor in faded colors on the front.

The thick book falls apart quite easily.

"Don't read!", warns the man. Who reads from it until his breath catches.

Thanks to the search for the woman in or of the book, disappearances are solved by a female detective. The rather large lady stands at the spot where the dead body of Isis (?) lies. Wrapped in plastic Albert Heijn shopping bags.

Whoever murdered her placed her on top of a freshly dug grave at a small, modern cemetery. Now she can be buried. By a select group. Including a young teenage lady who pays her respects by performing a self-invented ritual.

I leave. With a woman. A man on a moped wearing a simple white helmet leaves the old wooden barn where the story was told.

Meanwhile, it is early morning and it has started to snow.

I leave.

In my socks through the snow.

Something else (a #dream)

 On vacation, somewhere in Asia, me and and a travelcompanion just missed our (tour?)bus. While my companion (a friend? My mother? Just another traveler?) ran away on white flip flops through the narrow streets and I followed in pursuit, our tour guide came running after us. Just as she was about to catch up, I got stopped by an entertainment colleague, calling herself by her stage name Cherry Bosom. Before she turned away and ran, she handed me a pack of toothpicks. They were a novelty, as you didn't have to break the individual picks in three parts for the different kinds of toothpicking dentists recommended you to do.  The brand name was 'Levis' added by something that sounded like 'classic' but was absolutely something else.