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Yesterday's dreams included using abandoned tunnels running beneath a lake as a hiding place to sleep in during the day. There's one place that leads to a glass dome where you can look up and see the lake above you.

Today's: I'm trying to prevent some disaster, and I'm running out of time. At the moment I'm standing on a rooftop, watching several people in a field far below us. Along with me there's two people, a woman who I think of as my partner - she's on the other side of the roof at the moment, busy with her own efforts - and then this man. He has the power to make anything he says come true, but for his own safety and everyone else's, I made him forget about this power. This is an emergency. I force him to remember, and then I have him use that power to say that there's an earthquake. We all hold onto the roof and watch a crack open up in the field where those people are. The ground's still shaking, the people are scattering, but I don't think this will be enough. We should just bury this place beneath the sea, that ought to do it.

The place is covered in white mist now, blocking out everything below the roof we're standing on, and it's quiet, no more sounds of people below us. I'm walking back toward my partner on the other side of the roof, and I believe submerging this place and all the people in it has managed to avert the disaster. But then this dark spire rises up out of the fog directly in front of me, and keeps rising up into the sky.

It's this huge, gothic tower, a single immense spire composed of smaller ones, spire upon spire upon spire, all jagged edges. I think of a cathedral, but there's no religious imagery, just a sense of awe and horror; I think of a clock tower, but there's no face. It keeps rising higher and higher, I can no longer see the top of it. Flooding this place was a wasted effort.

And as I hang onto the edge of the roof and watch the spire rise, I hear an old man's voice in my head. "Here to keep your ledge, little boy, who once rared-"

Date unsure, before or around 2002.



One of the longest and most detailed dreams I have ever had.

My name is Marion and I am antarcticologist. It's night-time and with my friends François and Elodie* aboard our ship, I am en route to the South Pole. We "park" near the ice cap, and François and I take to measure the thickness of the ice cap while Elodie, hands in her pockets, is observing us from far away. The ice cap is 3 metres (10 ft) thick. We then decide to go back to the closest harbour: Cape Town in South Africa (we can already see the lights from Antarctica). Once in Cape Town, we must navigate between the wharves to find a place to park our ship.
When it is done, I stroll a little in the docks. There are stacks of wooden boxes everywhere, on which you can climb like on a mountain. While I am having my little walk, I see a young man** hiding in one of the empty boxes, the side of which is missing. People are looking for him, calling him a thief. He hasn't seen me and, feeling some sort of sympathy towards him, I do not denounce him.
Later, my dog and my cat*** go to the hotel to prepare the rooms we had booked. (yes, they can talk). When my friends and I join them, the hotel manager gives us a tour of the hotel. It is built on the side of a valley, near what looks like a big lake, and it also is a camp park. But there is not pitch whose number is under 26, because all these pitches were flooded when a dam broke, and the valley has been flooded since then: there was no lake before. There is also a football field (soccer, for you Americans), which is half flooded too (it is not plane). We are told that 10 years ago, a child tragically drowned there.
Back inside the hotel. While walking in the corridor, I see a door which is ajar. Inside, the thief is negotiating with a babushka for an expensive object. When the deal is done, I see the old lady putting her money in her shoes' heels. It is a very well known technique among thieves (although I have no idea of how I know that). The thief sees me and kind of wink at me, and I wonder if he may have seen me the first time.
Then I go back to the football pitch and I have a flash-back of the little boy's death. There was a match between two children's teams on the pitch, although half of it was under water. In the "deep end", there was up to one metre of water (3ft). After the match, one of the boys, the goal, went looking for the ball, under water**** He knew the ball was on the other side of the fence, so he bent under water, slipped his hand between the (how do you call that ???) lozenges of the fence to pull the ball towards him, and his glove got stuck in the fence, and he drowned. When people realized he was missing, it was too late.
Back to present time. I am leaning on the concrete rail with Olivier Atton*****, thinking about this drama. Oliver is positive, it is a murder disguised in accident. How could the football be behind the fence? It was too high for the ball to get there.
Another flashback of my own childhood : I was on a train stopped in the middle of a flooded nowhere. There was water up until the wheels. It was raining. The train was empty, except for me.

*who do not really exist. Exceptionally in this dream, original characters have names.
**looking like Sidney Bristow's fair haired friend in Alias.
***original characters again. I don't have a dog, and none of my cats can speak anyway
**** Yes, I know. But in that world, footballs don't float. (I should have seen it as a dream sign, just like the talking dog and cat, or seeing Cape Town's lights from Antarctica, but I didn't even know about LD at the time)
***** the French name of Captain Tsubasa, a manga football player.