Have you ever thought about how weird our dreams are altogether? They are like stories without beginning or end. Dreams I remember make me think: what was that? Once when I was a kid I found a book in my grandmother’s basement. Over first hundred pages was missing, and the last (how many?) too. It was a war story. It’s hero was in trouble, completely surrounded by enemies, with no food and very scarce ammunition… he was hiding in the basement. I will never know how did he get into the trouble and if he managed to get out there: it went for few hundreds pages about him being stuck. A real suspense. Everything what held this story together in my eyes was his will to live and hope.
I also had such a feeling sometimes… like, once I saw a movie by Jean Luc Godard, from the middle until I had to go. I still wonder what did happen to the main character? So in our dreams we are such a character ourselves, often stuck in somebody’s else story.
Today in my dream I found myself in an airport lounge. A strange man, looking like one of those detectives from odd black and white movies, his image complete with raincoat, hat and dark glasses came to me and said: you can leave all of this behind.
The deal was: he will give me a new name and passport and I can go with it through the customs, and fly somewhere (where? I do not know), but I can not return to this place again. I accepted it, because I was curious, what kind of passport he will give me, and where I could possibly go? But the man didn’t give it to me. He went through the customs with me instead. When we came to the officers, he took out my new passport and gave it to them, they checked it, looked at my face and inside it (at my photo there apparently), returned the passport to that stranger and let us in. We stood at the long escalator, going up, and up, and up. Me and that spy looking guy. I couldn’t even figure out his face. The escalator was endless, and completely empty. We didn’t say a word to each other, just stood on it.
And that was it. I do not know there did I arrive in the end or my new name, and if I arrived at all. Continue reading ‘Fucking weird strange dreams’
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