Kjarva's dream journal

quite a vivid dream last night but still no lucidity since my first timy period of it the other week.

I was in Dundee at the seagate, just outside the church there. I was carrying 2 tesco bags for some reason and seemed to have made camp in a black tent at the bottom of the church stairs by the bench. I turned my back to go put some rubbish in the bin and when I turned round again the tent was flattened and flapping in the wind, while I saw a junkie lifting my stuff and putting it in a really strong, clear plastic bag.

He hadn't seen me yet, so I walked up behind him as he was about to cross the road and jerked the bag out of his hands, telling him "I don't think so mate!" He made a run for it and suddenly we were in the Perth road. He made a run for the flats that were opposite the Londis. I could see him in the window of the flats upstairs and it was as if all of the flats were joined together into one big flat, as he continued up Perth road through the flats.

I clearly remember one of his junkie mates that was with him. He had long dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, looked to be in his late 40's or early 50's and had a scraggly beard to match his hair. He was wearing a green jacket, like the kind of army surplus thing that Ewan used to wear and blue Jeans.

This guy shouted out the window for me to fuck off and I screamed back that he was a homeless junkie fuck who deserved to go to prison. I gave up on the chase at this point and the scenery shifted again.

I don't clearly remember where I was but I do remember laying the clear plastic bag that I'd stolen back from the Junkie next to a battered looking coffee table. As I pulled my stuff out of the bag, I realised that there was other peoples stuff in the bag as well. Purses and wallets mostly. I remember agonising in my dream over what to do with them. Should I keep the money in them and call the owners, giving them their cards etc, sans cash? Should I take them down to the police station and hand them in? Or should I just keep the cash and bin the evidence of ever having them?

I don't know when I decided but I found myself on the phone, calling round the owners to tell them to come and pick up their belongings from my house. At this point as far as I am concerned I am in my old house at south george street but on waking, it looked nothing like it. I clearly remember one of the purse owners saying "hello" when she answered the phone to me but don't remember any of the subsequent conversation.

That's it, I must have woken up or ended my REM cycle, as I don't remember anything after that.