I’m sitting in front of a church with –. She’s wearing pajamas and these grey socks. They’re my socks, recognized. She says something. I massage her feet. I’m sure there was something else before this image, something about us walking around town maybe, before the church, but it’s all hazy now.
Then I’m in a room chasing a cat who’s also being chased by another guy. . . or this guy isn’t really chasing the cat; he’s just imitating or following the cat, trying to show off or show us he can maneuver just like the cat. The cat shoots into a ventilation opening under a locker. Then it’s atop the locker looking down at us. I hold the locker square up against the corners, and the cat jumps down, diving through between my arms, and flowing back into the vent square below. The guy now stands atop the locker. He’s a giant, wrestler sized guy. I move away from the locker and the guy does the same as the cat, diving down and then without a sound flowing back into the vent square below the locker.
There was something about a camera, I was looking for it, I think. Then I’m at some backyard patio. My younger brother was there. We’re gathering up toys. My youngest brother was there, too, and he’s still a toddler in the dream. We’re taking the toys, his toys I guess, somewhere else and our hands are full as there are a lot of toys. My youngest brother throws a tantrum because some of his toys are left behind. I asked my younger brother to take them. He’s upset because his hands are full already. But he puts down what he has and picks up a different set of toys. He walks off upset. My youngest brother throws another tantrum as he still has these other toys left behind. I gather them up with what I have already, some toy cars and dinosaurs.
Esther Perel was there. And there’s an asian guy and a kid. The kid reminds of the asian boy in Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark. There’s a red bin. It’s full of water bottles to be recycled, but it hides drugs. From the woman’s perspective, I see the man and his boy to be used, kidnapped, I guess, to smuggle the drugs somewhere. We drive in a small flat-bed truck with the red bin in the back. After some time, the bin falls out of the truck. We stop, but the bin is a little bit farther off behind us. I guess I’m ordering the guy to go pick up the bin. Then there’s another car driving past us and pulling over a little way in front of us. The kid runs to them. I think to myself, maybe we can make up the story that we’re a mixed family.
Looking at a map of Spain. . . Or no, I’m in an old church, like a small, medieval cathedral, exploring it. The view then changes to looking at a map of Spain. A co-worker appears, the map becomes digital, and he enlarges it, then rotates it up-side-down, then rotates it again, right side up. It’s like he’s working on some article on the Camino. I explain something about how the Camino article is about the past, or the future, but it should be about the present, about the “rumblings” on the camino, how in my day I found out about it being closed on Reddit pretty much right on the day it was closed because of the coronavirus.
Then I’m in the kitchen in our flat, cooking lasagna in the oven. I open the oven to check if it’s done. The neighbor’s cat slips in, jumping inside the oven. I try to let it out, but it seems to want to stick to the back, rub itself to the back of the oven. Isn’t it hot in the back there? I worry about the cat getting cooked with the lasagna. I fiddle with the dials of the oven, but I wasn’t sure or didn’t know (it was hazy) if I was turning down the heat or turning it up to force the cat out. I open the oven door and finally the cat jumps out.
There’s a book, I was looking at the first couple of pages of a high school yearbook, or maybe a bible. It was very flat, and there were a bunch of phrases written on it. The only phrase I remember is “God figured.” I thought, does that mean God prefigured? Or God signifies?
Then I’m along the cliffs of some beach. A colleague of mine from back in Mozambique was by my side. I think he was telling me something about these flat reefs that newly appeared just below the water. They’re like islands, or an expansion of the island we were already on. I leap towards the reefs. I land on my feet. Not sure if it was me or my colleague who mentioned how the flat reefs were like soft carpet. This colleague I no longer keep in touch with in the outside world, and on the reefs in the dream I wished I was alone.
Then I’m in some high school gym. We were doing sprints, it was me and three other guys. It was a race, sort of, and I wasn’t putting much effort into it. Finally, it’s over and the other guys win T-shirts. I see on the scoreboard the scores were 40 and 21 (the guy that got 21 started the race late, but still beat me). I didn’t see my score, but suspected it wasn’t even close to the winners’. The shirts they won were supposed to be special. Tonight, during some concert, they can wear it and it’ll glow in the dark. They can put a button or pin underneath and it’ll shine a beam of light out to the sky or to the concert stage. I was a little jealous, but also still didn’t care. I wanted a drink of water. Saw pitchers of water and glasses arranged on small tables, but then wanted or wished for orange juice.
Then I’m lying on a couch. It seems like late afternoon. This young woman comes in and lies next to me. She’s wearing shorts-over-alls, underneath which is a one-piece swimsuit. She’s using my right arm as a pillow and we’re spooning each other on the small couch. With my pillow arm around her neck I reach down and feel her breasts. She’s on a call, or talking to someone on the phone. I catch a glimpse of her face in profile through her dark hair as we lie side by side. I recognize her at first as — and then as –, maybe. I keep touching her, she seems to be ignoring me, or keeping her conversation going on the phone. I kiss the back of her neck right below her ear. With my free left hand I touch her hips, then lower. She raises herself up and on top of me. Our bodies align, her back to my front. I keep touching her below, easier now in this position, under her over-alls. She’s still speaking on the phone, it’s in a foreign language, but I understood somehow it’s her grandmother that had called her. I tried to pull my hand out from under her overalls, it gets tangled in the straps and clasps. I’m also worried someone might walk in on us. She turns to me and says, “You’ve got so much to learn from me.”
I’m in a house that reminds me of Metroville where I grew up, but it’s different, or everything is hazy, there are a lot of rooms, most of which are empty. My dad is there. And there’s a box of a dozen Krispy Kreame donuts, some chocolate covered, others chocolate sprinkled. I needed to get ready to go somewhere. I’m lying down half awake trying to remember the details of this dream, and then I’m in the back of a van, still lying down on the left-side/driver-side bench in the back of a van, covered in blankets. I see through the window across me there’s a queue of four people, my mom, my youngest brother, a tall guy in a chef’s white coat, his face covered in a surgical mask, his arm around –‘s shoulders. They all get in the back of the van one by one in that order. I notice — and my brother (?) were wearing blue-jean jackets. My mom asks, or tells me I’m late again. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, wondering if I should say hi to –.
Written on 13 April 2020, Monday: Had inklings of an early dream this morning, tried to commit them to memory before going back to sleep, but now all forgot.
Written on 14 April 2020, Tuesday: No dreams remembered.
Written on 15 April 2020, Wednesday: Would like to say there was an image of rowing boats, but even this is hazy, uncertain, pretty much dissipated.
Written on 16 April 2020, Thursday: No dreams remembered.
I’m in line to order food in some fast food restaurant or cafe. There’s one or two people in front or ahead of me to the counter. Then it’s hazy and there’s maybe more than 12 or 25 people in front of me. Yet there’s no attendant cashier to take orders. The queue elongates and snakes around the counter where I see there’s another restaurant employee setting something up, I guess. I ask this guy quite politely, explaining that perhaps because of exhaustion and hunger I didn’t notice all these people get in front of me, and that maybe I could order from him just a couple of things. I think he hesitated but then said yeah. I leave the queue and look back, thinking maybe the people would be upset, but they weren’t, didn’t even seem to be paying attention. . . I look at the menu on the wall, one item I think said “love jam”? I asked if it was pastry and he showed me it comes chocolate-covered or just sprinkled. I think I ordered a couple more things. When I got the order, a bag of food, he asked me where I’m from, saying I had a “funky accent.” I told him we all have accents, actually, and that without meaning any offense, an accent is “funky” only relative to the person asking. Now that I think of it, I’m surprised how formal and articulate I was in my response. I look in the bag and see a smaller bag full of calamari and fries, I guess. I squeeze lemon on it. For some reason, I pour out the calamari on a paper towel, I guess to drain out the lemon juice at the bottom. . .
In one of those tiny cars with my dad driving. He goes into parking garage and makes a quick left turn and descends to the lower levels of the garage, which wasn’t his intention, I didn’t think. Suddenly, I’m in another car and I radio my dad, or I call him on a cell-phone, give him instructions on how to get out of the garage.
Then I’m in a house visiting a young woman. I get the impression I’m there, calling on her. She has long, light-brown wavy hair, wearing pajama bottoms and a green sweater. I’ve never met her before. We’re talking about something I don’t remember what. Her dad is there and then she walks with me out of the house. She walks me to my home, I guess. We walk by a big building. The streets remind me of those in Heidelberg, but this big building is modern, bauhaus, tall with a large mural on the side. It’s a movie theatre. Day turns to night, and we sit on a bench and watch the mural. It’s actually an ad for that movie, Earthquake Bird. I think we were looking at the picture of the leading actor on the foreground, but what struck me, or us, was the black background and its glowing light. . . It wasn’t electric lights turned on; it was the paint in the mural that just glows, pulsates, as day turns to night. We gaze at the mural and admire its beauty. We talk about how I left her house, I guess how her dad kicked me out. I respond that everyone’s acting crazy with this coronavirus pandemic. My flatmate, for example, sings karaoke in his room nowadays, I tell her. But at least we can see each other. She’s sits in front of me between my legs, her back leaning on my chest. I caress her shoulders.
Seemed like I was in high school. I was in an empty classroom and I’m putting away my things into something like a laptop sleeve. I think I look away for a moment and then the sleeve I’m using as a bag is gone. I frantically look for it and go outside, giving up I guess because I’m late to go to another class. But outside of the classroom I see my stuff there in a sort of fruit-crate. I suspected someone had grabbed it in the room when I wasn’t looking, suspected this guy outside who seemed like a teacher, an older guy, but he was only asking me if the stuff on the ground in the fruit-crate looking all messy like it was just dropped on the floor, if it was all mine. I tried to put it all away, or just grabbed the book, which looked like Orientalism, or the cover of this book by Edward Said, a book that I actually do have on my bedside table in the outside world but am not currently reading. . . Then I find myself putting away a bunch of other stuff, garbage, really. The fruit crate has turned into large garbage bins and I’m collecting, I guess, recycling material. There were a couple of other people around, standing around, waiting on me. I think my mom was there waiting to pick me up from school and then deciding to help me so the clean up would be faster. Or I’m not sure if she was actually helping, but I think she was asking me what’s to be taken or left in the trash. I remember pulling out a bunch of half-full juice cartons. I was a little disgusted and not thrown them away long ago.
dream chronicles 