You might say I save the good ones for the rainy days, but last night I dreamed I had a job interview with Mel Gibson (as seen in Braveheart but with more casual clothing) as my boss.
It was about a teaching job - which would be great - in a little school in the woods. The woods? Am I Little Red Riding Hood?
I do understand the job thing. But...MEL GIBSON?
What the hell is this guy doing in my dreams?The thought of him doesn't touch me remotely. I haven't seen movies with him, talked about him nor read about him in ages.
The best part, though, is that I got the job: Mel was testing my competitiveness by letting me pick fruits from a tree (I really hope there was no biblical symbolism here) and, since I was climbing the tree instead of picking the lower fruits, he decided I was perfect for the assignment.
In the little school. In the woods. Mmmhhh....
Maybe it's a lucky dream. And if I manage to find the job I like I'll probably owe it to Mel Gibson.
When I dream there is always a glimpse of me that stays awake.
When I have nightmares, my mind finds strategies to reject the things I don't quite like.
If I get hurt, I get miraculously healed; If I lose a child somewhere, I find her years later on a street; If someone wants to kill me, I have another life at my hand...
This time it's about words.
In real life I don't have them. So they come to me when I sleep.
Someone wrote a letter to me with words I had wanted to hear: apologies, nice words, words of support, positive words, not necessarily happy words.
In my mind I had wanted to keep them as long as possible: I wanted to get up and write them down immediately, so that they are not LOST, so that those warm and good feelings could stay there forever, instead of vanishing so quick.
I was willing to stand up but I fell asleep again, into another dream and yet...the next dream was about having no paper.
My mind gave me in my dream the first thing she could find to write down those words and - of course - I wrote them down.
They were written twice, so how could they be forgotten?
Indeed, I have already forgotten and when I try to remember a single one of them, all I can think about is that they felt as mysterious as one of those old parchments found in a sunken ship, with secrets to uncover, maps that lead to places you're not sure still exist... if ever.
Everything has drowned: words, memories, certainties.
What do you want to be sure of?What do you need to know?
"You can always sit here" said a crystalline voice.
At this point I was so tired I decided to sit, before knowing where "there" was and who was talking to me. There was fog in my eyes. "Just sit down and I will tell you a story". A rebellious sigh rose from my chest: was I there to hear some story?! It was then, after I had swiped the fog from my eyes, that a sinister landscape came to sight, I was standing on the edge of a path overlooking a gorge. I sat down. Next to me, suddenly I could see this sweet looking, smiling creature who reminded so much me of Morpheus but had a more relaxed way. No hurries and no arguments.
Well, it must be a good sign, I thought. He said Thanatos was his name. Shivers went down my spine but I told myself: relax, nothing can happen.
He said "Relax, nothing can happen". "Look, from here you can see that gorge. If you observe very carefully, at a certain point, you might see your enemy's corpse floating in the river".
Now I was freaking out. "I said you might. Might is all you need to see". Shaking my head I made a sign that I didn't understand what he was exactly talking about. Instead of explaining me the reason of his words, he took a little book out of his pocket and started reading to me. In my head I was checking a list of things I had eaten before getting involved in this conversation, of the drugs I had not taken and of the news that might have left some indelible footprints in my memory. Nothing could be held responsible for that, so I told myself "be patient and hear what this weirdo has to tell you!". "Once upon a time" he started. I stood up and fixed his now silly face and his silly face was telling me I was still on the edge of that path and I would have fallen hadn't I been careful. Thanatos, you don't want me to fall?
I sat down again. "Listen, I don't need to go on with this farce, I just wanted to warn you that you might see your own body down there".
He told me about battles and defeats, he told me that there was no way I could win a lost battle. And he added: you know it by yourself, why did you need to come so far if you were aware of the risks? This time the answer was easy: "I came here because I was tired of running around, because Morpheus wouldn't let me rest on his pillows". "Just because he told you they were not for you?You know he is never going to tell you that!Will you be fine with the Jester waking you up?"
Again I stared at him, searching for a little sign of a better answer to all my questions. He knew. So he stared back at me. "You want me to tell you whether she ever woke up or not. Just close your eyes and let that get unreal again, then you'll know".
I had a bad night, the words of Thanatos were now the only reality I could bring home. The Jester...the Jester...that word is still buzzing in my ears.
Knock knock...Morpheus, will you open the doors of your reign to me again?
I need another favor for I can't sleep. This means no dreams.
Last time we met we had an argument and you left something I am not sure really belongs to me.
Please, open the door!Give me another dream!
Why did you take them away?
Do you think I don't deserve them anymore?Is it because I punched you on the face?
Morpheus was staring all proud and self-confident; I tried to ignore his defiant smile, clearly meaning “girl, I am not your pharmacy” or I would have started another argument, for I saw the poppy flowers decorating his bed!!
Still, it was me the one in need and I did an effort to look very sorry for his lips.
“There you go” he said and when I woke up this morning my sister had sent me a message.
It said:
“I am afraid of no ghost”. What did she mean?I am afraid of no ghost either, although....I can think of ghosts I'd rather keep closed air tight in a jar.
Then my husband asked me “Whom are you going to call?”.
I thought they were plotting against me. What did they know that I didn't know?
Whom was I going to call? I had no clue!
Waking up I only have one on my mind: breakfast.
As a matter of fact, it turned out I had forgotten two faces belonging to the last dream.
Silke's face was one of those. She was my mid-wife so: W-H-A-T was she doing in my dream?
I wasn't delivering but she was trying to give me some pain reliever.
A strong pain in the neck was all it was about and I wasn't sure why she was injecting something in my legs. Was it just a phantom pain?
The other face is a friend's face I don't quite recall. It is a little blurred in my memory.
But it was some beautifully sad face.
Voila, Morpheus had it right again, I didn't deserve any new dream, because my dreams are totally twisted and they don't mean anything. They are the dreams of Phantasos, not his!
I am told those dreams convey wrong messages, they are not reliable.
Hence I was the one to get a phone call on that very day.
Hadn't I picked up the receiver I wouldn't be a believer, Morpheus would suggest.
He would also suggest I stay away from ghosts. They are not real but they kind of hurt.
The other entity I should be aware of are angels. They wake me up with the excuse of doing something good to me and then they tempt me until I am too weak.
Let's have a coffee, Morpheus, let's sit together and talk business. Is there a chance I can have a nice, colorful, pretty, relaxing dream about which I have nothing to complain?
Or are you so mad at me that from now on I am left alone with these strange people?
Remember? Some months ago I told you what I wanted!
I worked hard on that, I was crystal clear about my ambitions and it seemed to me you got it right.
But now you give to me the exact opposite; all the efforts were in vain.
It's not enough you made me argue with a friend, you keep repeating the same mistake over and over. You give me words, you give me feelings and then you turn your back laughing and teasing me; last time, did I hear you right, you said to me:
"Be realistic, you can only be a dream".
Me?Of all the people?
So it happens that I still wander in your reign, this time in other regions, windy and dry and wonder what will be of that dream.
Here I dwell, with no chance to get out. I search for a paved road, for a marked path, but there is none; I call you but you do not hear me or pretend not to.
There are ghosts hanging on the trees, you shape them?Well, I shake them.
Slowly the strength is vanishing; I see you throwing pillows in front of your ivory door but they are not meant for me, so where am I supposed to rest?
"All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts"
As You Like It
The Curse Last night Morpheus took me by the hand and whispered something in my ear; but before I knew what he meant I was already in his reign.
Not long ago there was a witch, an old witch who wanted to sell me something. I had hoped it was apples what she had in her basket, but those were too tiny and shiny to be apples. She had beads; black pearls and aquamarines. "Which will you buy?" she asked. "You've been here before and I know your answer". No I wasn't and I didn't know any answer!She was trying to cheat on me, I thought. "I can leave the basket, so you can make up your mind. But remember: you can't take anything out, as long as you haven't decide. Anyway I know your answer". Then she disappeared and left me wondering. I wondered and I wander in that place, looking for the witch. "What would you suggest is my color?" I wanted to ask. Not finding my way out, I started looking for Morpheus and yelled at him "Take me back, that's not the place I wanted to be; that's not the place you promised me, you son of a witch!!!" Nightmares (Phobetor's Version)
I saw Morpheus running toward me through the woods, his lips were bleeding and he had honeysuckle garlands on his head and forearms, I threw an angry and almost sad look at him.
“Would you take me back, please?”.
He nodded. Still, he asked whether I didn’t want to wander to the borders of his reign.
“Maybe another time, now it’s late, I really need to go and you need to take care of your lips”, I added as if it mattered, at that point.
“What should I do with the beads, though?”.
Giving me half a look, which meant “If you don’t do it, I’ll do it!”, he grabbed the basket and threw it into the grass...and as I was about to look back, sorry for the lost beauty, he shouted: “Never look back. You'll have a seven years curse!”
“What?”
“The witch didn’t leave the basket to give you more time...it is a curse”.
“But WHY?”. My eyes were open and stunned like a crack in the sky and my jaw too had dropped open in disbelief.
“Did it ever occur to you that anything happening here is pure nonsense?”.
Paradoxically this was the only thing that made sense.
Laying the honeysuckle garlands on my head he suggested “This is the only thing you need”.
Was that nonsense as well?
“Do not, under any circumstances, look back”.
I was about to faint, breathing in the smell of honeysuckle, but he pulled my arm so hard and we started running again.
I got bruises on my knees but I was glad I was leaving. No more silly decisions. No silly witch around.
Waking up this morning I noticed blood on my knuckles and a little chain of black pearls, too. And the words of Morpheus still ringing in my ears: “I know your answer”.
Psst Morpheus smart-pants, don't tell anybody you know better than the witch!!!
Il est des parfums frais comme des chairs d'enfants, Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies, — Et d'autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants, Ayant l'expansion des choses infinies, Comme l'ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l'encens, Qui chantent les transports de l'esprit et des sens.
There are perfumes that are fresh like children's flesh, sweet like oboes, green like meadows — And others, corrupt, rich, and triumphant, having the expansiveness of infinite things, like amber, musc, benzoin, and incense, which sing of the raptures of the soul and senses
Baudelaire - Correspondences
The posts that will follow are a collection of short stories I started writing in June. They tell about my dreams and how I totally get lost in them.
One of the reasons I put them down is that I hadn't been dreaming in a long time, or maybe I just started forgetting about my dreams.
When I was younger I had pretty amazing stories with which I could entertain my friends on an almost hour long bus ride and I think I kind of wish I could have that back.
The other reason is that I have been observing people around, friends. too..and lately they all have been talking about dreams, without ever mentioning what their dreams are about. Unfair.
Dreams are full of weird stuff we don't understand. Sometimes we only pretend we don't.
My dreams are full of symbols. What about your dreams?
