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    The Trumpet Bong

    by , 08-15-2013 at 09:47 PM (488 Views)
    1: A small fragment at my friends house. 2: A dream about getting drunk at a party in a big house. 3: A dream about weed, a trumpet bong and a homeless dealer. 4: A dream about me working in a mobile library.

    • I am with two good old teenage friends of mine. The dream is not about back then, when we were younger, but we are as we are today. The front door of my friends house reminds me of an apartment that we had lived in earlier in my childhood. It is very neat and clean inside. We have a big hangover and we talk about the previous night, where we drank a lot of alcohol. One of my friends talks about how much money he spend that night.

      The house was purely dream fiction, but it had some interesting familiar features. We often used to hang out together on hangover days back in my teenage days.

    • I drive a big black car. It feels new and comfortable, some good old friends are with me and some other friends follow us in the little blue car of my grandmother. We drive down a small curvy road through a forest.

      There is a parking area down in the valley and I decide to stop, because we are looking for a nice place to rest and to do our barbecue and camping, we have everything we need in the trunks of the cars.

      My friends from my grandmothers car seem upset, they say this is not a nice place to stay, they want to go further. But one of them had spotted a big party as we were driving on the hill, so we decide to leave the cars for now and take a look. So we walk upwards again on the small curvy road through the forest, where we came from. The walk is about 1 km and we take our time, we are not in a hurry at all, it feels like we all have summer holidays and this is our big vacation together or something like that.

      We finally get there and there is indeed a big house with music and a lot of people. Somehow they are of course strangers, but it feels like we are all friends and we are definitely welcome at the party. We start drinking a lot of alcohol, the party is held throughout the whole house including the second floor and the garden, there are people everywhere.

      At a later point we are all drunk and I gather my friends to tell them that I need to go down to the cars to get something. None of them wants to join me, they laugh and are clearly drunk and so am I. I think 'f*** it, I'll just go by myself'.

      I try to figure out where we came from, so I walk around the house. I almost choose a wrong path, which leads to some fields with high grass. Suddenly I remember it, and I turn around and walk across the street and towards the small curvy road through the forest that leads to the cars in the valley. As I'm walking, I think that time moves so fast when I am that drunk, while it is slowed down, when using weed.

      The big black car was cool. The dream had a nice summer holiday feeling with the good company of friends instead of the everyday worries. It is astonishing how well dreams can simulate the state of being drunk or being high. Also, I find it interesting how socially active I am in my dreams, like I was some years ago. Nowadays I choose to be socially more isolated, not that I don't like people, I still love them, but I am just rather by myself at my current stage. My dreams do certainly not reflect that.

    • I am with a group of 10 people around my age. They are a mixture of friends and acquaintances. It is early in the evening and we walk and relax together. We gather on a playground and just hang out and talk.

      I have a black friend and we go and sit on a bench at a bus stop. He pulls out his bong, which I know he had for a long time and that he uses it quite regularly. I listen to the familiar sound, as he uses it and at that moment I think to myself, 'funny that I don't smoke anymore, it's been a long time already'.

      As I watch him with his bong, it occurs to me that it looks like an old trumpet. He must have somehow build a bong from a trumpet and some dark glass. It looks nice and stable, though. I ask if he cleans it every now and then, because I imagine it must be very hard to clean that thing, it is so unique. I get no response, he just smiles. I find it is a delightful sight and sound to just watch him handling it. And yet I find that I have no urge to start smoking again whatsoever. I am allowed to inspect the trumpet-glass-bong closer. I suck on it (without weed, just for the feel and sound) and I immediately get some water in my mouth, I spit it out and give him back his trumpet bong.

      There is a man coming to the playground, he looks old and homeless. The group of friends and acquaintances gather around him and he pulls out a big zip lock bag filled with marijuana. He starts selling nice, green and round buds to everyone. I think, 'wow, what an intelligent disguise for a dealer. A homeless looking old man with a bag of weed, which I estimate to be worth some thousand euros. He is not old and poor, he is smart!'.

      I know that I have money in my purse, so I take it out and look at two 5-euro notes. Another close friend of mine takes out 10 euro as well and we decide to buy something, just because it has been so long time since and because we can. We go after the old dealing guy, who is about to leave the playground.

      This is MJ calling for me once again. I had many dreams about cannabis when I stopped using it completely more than a month ago, this dream is like the final residue of that. I never had a close black friend, but in my dreams I often do.

    • I am on my walk home. It is daytime in a residential area, but it is totally quiet. Then there is this big bus stopping at every corner and honking and calling for the people living there, but no one ever responds. It is the bookmobile trying to get peoples attention.

      I think to myself that I can maybe get a ride home or I could even ask for a job. So I speak to the driver, and surely, I may join. So I walk around in the back of the bus, which is filled with books and neat little reading corners, the mobile library has two floors.

      We drive around in the neighborhood and the driver calls the people by their family names, apparently he knows them all. No one ever gets on the bus, which I think is sad, because people don't realize what a great thing they are missing out on. I decide that I will just make the best of my situation and find some interesting books to read, while I'm 'working' here. I am excited, because there is so much variety to choose from.

      The bus drives into a grocery store and parks between the shelves filled with canned food. It starts to fold out and to transform into a temporary stationary library section of the grocery store. The shelves start moving as well to make space for the transforming bus. The process does not seem random at all, but very well planned and well-orchestrated.

      The driver takes out 10 waffle irons and tells me that I have to make waffles for everyone who visits our mobile library, there should be people coming soon. I am overwhelmed with the whole situation and I find it weird. But on the other hand it is a creative idea, I think. So I begin thinking about how to manage that task. Shouldn't be that hard, I think, there should be cooking books among the books and there should be all the groceries I need somewhere in the store.

      A nice, creative surprise by my subconscious.

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