What can I say? Some dreams just call out to be shared. I've always found it interesting to read about other people's dream lives, and now I'm giving them the same chance.
The dream seemed to begin like some sort of flight simulator game, but—after a series of events I can no longer remember—I realize I’m dreaming. I’m in an unfamiliar city. It’s a place with a charming atmosphere—lots of greenery and a small harbor that almost divides it in two, with the main part of the city built on a hill with a steep incline. I fly—without my customary wings, since I was already flying to begin with—enjoying my surroundings. Every corner I turn results in a new, interesting view as I circle around, gradually moving up the hill. At one point, I notice a series of staircases to my right leading directly to the hilltop. It reminds me a little of the Bergpark—and that gives me an idea. I could find the Herkules statue and have a conversation with him. That would be an interesting thing to do in a dream. I fly up the staircases and find myself in a small park where a number of people are walking around. There is no Herkules Statue, but I do see a statue slightly off to the left—although monument might be the better word since it’s basically just a bronze head on a pedestal, a man wearing what looks like a conquistador helmet. I walk over to it, look at the head and ask: “So, is there anything you want to say to me?” The head comes to life. It says: “What the f*** are you doing here?” in what is quite possibly a Cockney accent. I’m a bit taken aback but still proceed to have a conversation with him—as best I can. I’m finding the accent difficult, and the background noise from the other people here isn’t helping. After a bit, three young women come up and join in the conversation. I recognize them the way one normally recognizes people in non-lucid dreams, although none of them seem to be people familiar to me in waking life. The only one whose appearance I can remember was a middle-eastern looking woman with thick, dark hair going down a little past her shoulders. Unfortunately, pretty much everything we said there faded from memory by the time I woke up. As the conversation ends, the bronze head offers to kiss a coin for each of us—this seems to be a good luck ritual of the sort that often develops around statues. The others produce coins, and I figure I’ll go along with it, too. Without looking, I stick my hand into a pocket which I expect I have—even though I don’t ordinarily wear clothing with pockets where this would be possible, it’s a pretty reliable method of materializing objects that might conceivably be in one. I feel around the various objects there for a coin. As I do, I recall the Soviet Kopeck that mysteriously turned up in my last batch of laundry—my aunt had been washing some really old stuff, I guess—and, unsurprisingly, that’s what the coin I eventually find turns out to be. Once that’s over, I’m once again faced with the decision of what to do. As I fly back down the hillside, it occurs to me that this might be a good opportunity to find some people I'd like to speak to. I fly all the way down to the harbor and, since the ground is flat here, I land and walk. I call out their names and try to find them among the crowd, or among the people on the boats. But I don’t see them there, and before long, I wake up. (3.7.18)
Updated 08-05-2018 at 02:46 AM by 75857