The beginning I don’t remember, but the latter part of the dream this morning that I do remember: I was with a small group walking back to our hostel; the guy leading us was G-, he worked at this hostel I stayed at in Porto, so I guess we were in that city. He took us on a detour under this bridge whose arches looked like the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, except it’s smaller, and there’s a pedestrian way on the lower level. I guess G- was thinking we could take that pedestrian way back, but the middle part of the bridge was already flooded, water from the river had shored, or has been shoring up halfway through the bridge. G- took a picture and went back. I wanted to take a picture, too, of the arches of the bridge from the lower-level view with the water slowly flooding in. But then this young woman (who reminds me of this girl I met in Lisbon) came forward. I’m not sure what she did exactly, maybe blocked my view, or nudged me as she walked passed, but I couldn’t take the picture and had to wait. When she walked back out and I had time to take the picture, the view was no longer there. We were suddenly inside some house, there was a wall in front of me, I sensed there’s a private room behind the wall, considered going in to find a window and finally take the picture, but decided not to intrude. I let it go and went back out. . .
On the way out of the house, I walked through a short corridor, there was some clutter on the floor, but the place wasn’t super messy. I think it was a man’s house, with all the wood paneling, little piece of paper, maybe receipts and coins on the floor. And I think there were also teddy bears on shelves? After the corridor I reached I guess the kitchen, where the small group the dream started with was sitting around, snacking on something I think. I sat down with them. To my left I find a bag inside which I see a loaf of sliced cinnamon bread. It looked very good, appetizing. I offer a slice to a woman in our group, she reminds me of someone I met in Porto.
dream chronicles 