Partyshop (a dream)

I was in a field hocky stadium. The game hadn't started yet. Somebody made a remark involving Johan Cruijff and I replied: 'That's a clever remark!'. 

The stadium was practically empty but in parts of the stadium groups of people were dressed in opague plastic costumes depicting Star Wars droids while other groups were dressed as characters from the Star Wars 'Dark Side'. 

One of the stands was empty, with the exeption of one man - curly brown hair, a golden earring in his left ear, unshaven, singing his club song lustily while he pulled down his jeans, revealing simple white underwear with a strange bump in it on the front. 

Upon pulling down his underwear, it revealed a pair of plastic buttocks from the partyshop. 

Her eyes (a dream)

After the apocalypse, I was part of a group of survivors. We were each allowed to take a single item from several piles of assorted stuff, like clothes, bags, stationary, household items and so on. I decided I wanted a diary. One with a lock or a string to be able to close it tight because I knew that way (because oxygen or water couldn't come in between the pages) it would be somewhat protected against fire and water and future people could read what I wrote. To find such a diary I had to wait until everyone was gone and the stuff was put away behind garded fences and further sorted.

At first we lived scattered throughout a partially burned down forest and I remember carrying around a rather large ladies handbag filled with now useless Euro and Dollar coins and some (less useless) cigarettes. 

After months of hard work (a few seconds in the dream), we managed to build ourselves a square shaped village, build from wood, straw, clay and manure. High above the ground and furthermore protected from animals and whatever was lurking in the woods by guard towers with fire pits. Apparently very hot fire because the flames were blue so I guess we used some kind of highly combustible fuel to keep them lit. There were some two dozen huts on poles and they were connected by slightly swaying walk ways, like planks on ropes.

The time had come for each cabin to be appointed to a couple: one male, one female. Because we knew we needed to procreate in order to survive. But there were slightly more men in the group (of 44 people?) then women and so a priest was - rather reluctantly - designated to share a hut with a very ill man who needed someone to look after him. In a large hut on the ground in the center of the compound, we stood in a circle, waiting for things to come, as decided by the three or four group leaders. 

I got coupled to a young (early thirties?) woman with long, curly blonde hair that was longer on the left side of her face than on her right. We (the men on the inside of the circle, the women on the outside, their backs turned towards the walls, the ill man on a stretcher in a corner) were standing only a hand width apart as part of the improvised ritual to make us mates for life. She wore a blue dress with thin shoulder straps and a beautiful big smile as she looked down on me, seeing I was grinning and looking straight ahead with my 1.40m and not up into her eyes.

Into the darkness (a dream)

With a friend or colleague I was at some company. Helping them to prank a colleague. We decided to hire a clown that had to look a bit like Ronald McDonald. Not too much because of possible copyright infringement. I talked to several people present in the large white room, scattered with desks and the occasional potted plants. The walls were white as well. No lights, no posters. We talked to learn more about the person who was going to be pranked and satisfied, one of them walked with us to the exit.

We were left in a room that seemed octogonal. In every wall there were one or two doors. White, with opague, small windows at face height and metal bars. Those allowed people to open them but the doors would close shut once you're through so you had to pick carefully.

There was also a hallway that would lead us back to where we came from.

To accomodate us, the lady who showed us out, opened one of the doors a bit, to show us that was not the exit but would lead us back into the building and into a maze we would probably get lost in. We chose the door right from the door she showed us, hoping that one would lead us outside. The bar was hard to push down but we pushed on anyway and stepped over the threshold into the darkness.

Singing (a dream)

Jumping on a train roof of a dark red train I knew I had to get back at him. He was the man who murdered me and I was a female teenager, approximately 15 years of age. Against the rushing wind I kept on crawling until I reached the coach he was in. 

On the side of the carriage was a leather strap on either side I could hook my hands in to not fall off. Spreading my legs as far apart as I could, I tried to keep my balance but was occassionally swept to my right, barely hanging on to one leather strap, making my way back up on top. 

Giggling at the thought of the man in the train thinking he was going crazy as I sang a song he knew me to sing when I was still alive, thinking he couldn't get me out of my head. But I wasn't dead. Or was I?

Unsure if I was dead or alive, I started singing anyway.

I love him (a dream)

My son's mother was talking to herself. Literally as two versions of her talked to eachother, sitting in chairs opposite of one another. On the left was the confused and scared psychiatric patient: pale face, wispy hair, crouched with her feet on the chair, dressed in a hospital gown, white with blue dots. Her few years younger or older version - blue t-shirt, combed hair and aubergine coloured trousers - but without severe psychosis.

The latter asking her scared self to finally 'get it out'. Moved to tears she told of a daughter ('Last I know she was in her last year of High School'. Ed. Specifically '5 VWO' in Dutch) before she turned to me, present in a corner of the room: 'I forgive myself. Will you tell our son I love him?'

The dream (a dream)

My friend got killed in a conflict, possibly a war. I felt his body getting cold in my arms in the trenches. He wore a white t-shirt, now bloody. We were in civilian clothing. He wore jeans, me some ensemble that appeared to be a dress suit. As if I was to go out on either a date or some fancy party before things went down. 

With my now dead buddy's card I bought a pack of cigarettes. With the intention to smoke them at his funeral. But people mistook me for him and I didn't have the nerve to tell them he was dead. 

So in the late evening, I took his body to his home and bedroom, dragging him like he was really, really drunk and even his mother fell for it. She welcomed me into their home and made me homemade fries with some vegetables. I helped cut the potatoes, convincing her her son was sleeping it off. Had dinner with them before so it was all perfectly normal. I also found it normal they had a pet tiger on the premises. 

So I came up with the idea of dragging my dead friend's body outside, next day in the early morning before anyone would be awake and blame the tiger for his death. Started dragging the body out of his room ('Nice detail by the filmmaker!' I thought, seeing dozens of flies hovering over the body, of which the eyes were sown shut), unto the patio which was directly outside the bedroom. Heard a noise and got scared so left the body where it was, covered with a brown woolen blanket with three single and small stripes: red, white and black. Tried to hide behind the shed, cowering but was detected by Mrs...? (Forgot her name), my friend's mom. 

She invited me out to the garden to meet a young lady who I immediately 'clicked' with and who I swapped underwear with for unknown reasons. Most likely just for laughs. I walked her up to a nearby (about two miles in a North Eastern direction) outdoor shopping centre. Where she met up with a (female) friend to go somewhere where she would one day take me too. A powerplant? A military complex? Where her father worked? 'You're smiling because you know what I'm wearing, right?', she said cheekily before we parted. 

I met up with a friend and together we walked back 'home'. From a short distance I pointed him the huge homemade winding stairs (that obviously needed some serious maintenance) going around an enormous and obviously old tree. 'Let's get up there one day, yeah?' 'Yeah!' Back on the terrain there was a dark coloured car on the grass. In the back seat my friend's dad, panicking. In the driver's seat (on the right side of the (English?) car his wife, bend over the steering wheel and in obvious pain, bleeding from a head wound. Next to her an unknown brown haired young woman. Babysitter? Dog walker for the tiger? Household help? Friend of the family? A friend of her son's? 

'We don't have insurance! Could you have caused the accident please?' They obviously knew that as a foreigner I was insured and my insurance would cover the costs. I didn't have a car myself so decided was the story would be that I had borrowed a friend's car and - because of my clumsy dealing with the for me unknown controls had accidentally hit their car, just as they excited the driveway and I was making a turn to drive up. All we needed to find was the other car. 

When I spotted a (white) car on their grounds (possibly from the young passenger or from the interesting young woman I had walked to the shopping centre) with the passenger door (right side) already open, I knew that was the car I would make a dent and a few scratches in by bumping it into the car of my dead friend's mother. When I hastily walked towards the car to set the insurance scam in motion, some idiot outside my (real life) home honked his or her car horn (for no other reason than to let someone know the lift had arrived. And to be a selfish a-hole who's too lazy to get out and ring the doorbell or simply call or send a text), woke me up (6.30 in the morning, for f*ck's sake!) and ended the dream.

Subjects (a dream)

She had spilled something and he cleaned it with a cloth. Now dripping with cow blood. With it he walked past a security guard who was seated behind a low desk, checking partygoers for the right bracelet before entering the other hal.

On smelling the cow blood the alien security guard lost it and his fangs emerged 'cause on his dead planet the spilling of blood meant commencing the battle.

His proposed victim decided to run to return later with a rifle designed for the purpose. Capsules with white powder that, once fired, hit the target as flat round metal disks. It was mounted on an orange iron exoskeleton. With practicing one disk stayed stuck high on a wall.

The dancehal could hold at least a thousand people and the organisation was happy thirty people were there!

He stepped backward, into his temporary armor and did what he had to do. Afterwards he sat on his knees next to the throne from where the king sat waving at his subjects.