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?'