There was a street performer who played a blind character in mime, singing a song with the word 'see' in it. And it was hilarious. In another act he would drink white cava whine. He had black, curly hair and was a Belgian student who also played the trombone in a well known orchestra, as an investigative reporter found out by looking at images at a viewing screen in a studio. The performer told me he had some wine left in this old delivery truck he had painted himself with colourful graffiti. Later he would ask me to film him while he was smoking a cigarette in the back yard of his old university. Which suddenly was my own back yard and on the camera I saw images of my son as a child.
There was a party we attended. With a lot of young people. My girlfriend in the dream had given me a (black) car she had poorly parked in the garage underneath the venue. On our way to the party (a national celebration, it seemed) we met a couple of which the woman was wearing almost the same outfit as my girlfriend. Including the same keffiyeh. And they both had grey eyes with light grey eye white. Which looked rather unsettling.
The party was no fun as a lot of people were under the influence of different substances. So we decided to leave. When we entered the garage we just saw my car leaving in the distance. It went straight and left and disappeared into the daylight.
We had no choice than to go by bike. My partner had a pillow and a small child on the back of her bike. I asked her for her old slide phone to call my now ex-girfriend. 'No, you can't have more than 1000 sheets of printing paper!', she yelled. I told her that was not what I was calling for. I found out she was driving my car and asked her why. At least she could have called and tell me. No reply.
Later we (my girlfriend? My son? My new friend the performer?) sat in the back of the car of an unknown but in the dream familiar man. He directed our attention to an old and expensive housing project that was never finished and left for Mother Nature to slowly demolish. 'What if we had no jobs, no hobbies, no family. In which would lie life's adventures?', he asked. And I replied: 'In visiting the nearby (I forgot or may have never known the exact name) 'Old white house of Mr. Grey'. At least we could have a pee there.' The driver smiled, put his hands more firmly on the steering wheel and his foot deeper on the gas: 'Yes, we could.'
