Entry 22

11 Sep 2019, Wed:

I was at some bar, think. Felt like it was in Heidelberg. But this beginning part was fuzzy. I think there were a couple of Swiss girls there, then I was walking throught the narrow streets looking for something, but not knowing what yet, maybe trusting I’d know what it is once I found it. . .

Then I was in this sort of lounge bar, or like an apothecary / bar. The two Swiss women were there, sitting behind their respective desks, wearing white lab coats. They were busy assisting people/individuals, sitting in front of their desks, and I end up being called to sit in front of this one guy’s desk. . . He was another apothecary, too, I guess. . . He asked me something, or I think he did, because he looked at me and opened his mouth and said something, but it was all wordless. I think he asked what I needed or how he could help, and I think I responded to him accordingly, but what came out of me was wordless, too. . .

Even in the dream it was hard to understand what the guy, who felt like some wonky gury, said. It wa also hard to see him because there was a bunch of stuff stacked up on his desk, even little stackable shelves. . . I asked him if i could remove one oand he said yeah, yeah, almost dismissively, without words but with a gesture of his hand, as if he was too busy writing what I guessed was his diagnosis of, or maybe his prescription for me. . .

The gury guy then disappeared and then I see the two Swiss women getting ready to leave, hanging up their coats, talking in what I thought was German. I asked them, said to them, Excuse me, twice! They were busy talking to each other and it was hard to get their attention. . . When they looked at me I said to them i could hear some German words, but what language is that you’re speaking? Their response to me was also a bit wordless, but I kind of understood it to be a mix of codes, and that they were using one specific to their profession. . . Although one word did stick out that one woman said, “legalese”? But were they lawyers?

To my left the desks that used to be for the Swiss women were re-arranged to a sort of living room, couch-sitting area and I see a group of women had come in, maybe four, or at least three, as two of them I recognized as my co-workers. The one farthest from me was M– and she seems to be leading the group or the discussion. The one closest to my left was L–, she was quiet. . . I didn’t tak to M– but it felt like she saw ir recognized me. L–, even though she was closest, didn’t really see me. I did see that L’s nose was dripping clear fluid, she had a runny nose but she maybe didn’t notice it herself. I wasn’t disgusted, but I also felt like I should just ignore her and not let her know. . .

I then saw G–, another co-worker, looking at us on the other side of the room, standing behind some kitchen counter. . . He was munching on something and drinking, it seemed like he was enjoying himself. I sense that he also had just finished a session with the guru, and when I look back to the couch the guru was there, and I thought I would go and pay my dues. Somehow I knew it was “donativo,” like it wasn’t a formal therapy session, but maybe an informed one, but I was still to donate or contribute something. when I came over the guru said something and gave me a piece of paper, I think I glanced at it, but was too busy trying to respond to the guru, to tell him thanks, and also to ask him how much I should pay. . . He might’ve gotten peeved by this questioning, but he opened/showed me his donation basked, a sort of cylindrical wicker basket, and I saw a few bills in there. I do remember the guru say something like “just change”? Or maybe “exchange”? I pull out a small book, not a pocket-book, but a literal book, like my little journal, and when I opened it saw a couple of bills folded in the pages. One was a five-dollar bill, the other a ten. I gave him a ten, but then I wondered if I would come back, if I can afford to be back? Or am I too cheap to be back? Now I also wonder if the guru would even still receive me again? I hope so. And maybe next time I’m there I’d remember to be generous. . .

I then go back to G– who was still at the kitchen counter. He encourages me to also just eat and drink, telling me we’ve finished our work or our sessions for the day. I ask him what this red drink is in this small glass bottle, a sort of stout, open-mouthed bottle. He said it’s vodka, but it’s deep red like port wine. I put only a little in my glass, and then sip also just a little. The flavor was, well, clear and strong. Not heavy syrupy like port, nor toxic intense like vodka. We then look at the group of women with the guru. M– started to sing with her beautiful voice.

I look behind me to the kitchen and then, I guess, I woke up. Except I guess I didn’t really know I was awake, or I wasn’t fully awake yet that I’m not sure if I dreamt or imagined I was still in that lounge, now in Algarve, with M– singing and G– playing the guitar by her side.