More dreams
This was one of those thousand-mile dreams that takes me to places I have dreamt of before...
...we were going to stay with athenegenia in Durham, only for some reason BJ ended up staying at my aunt's house, which in this dream was on a tiny island in the northernmost part of Scotland. (Sometimes my dreams have a hugely distorted sense of space, with journeys taking ten times longer or shorter than they should, and different countries being like two exhibits yards apart in the same museum. I am quite certain that the two houses would have been within sight of each other, had they not been separated by a tall and implausibly thin brown brick wall.)
At this point BJ ceased to be BJ and athenegenia ceased to be herself, and instead became two strangers whose existence I was only vaguely aware of.
Not-athenegenia's place was a dark, one-storey semi-detached house with a swimming pool in the front room. The outside was quaint and pretty, all redbrick and white-painted latticework; the inside was like the inside of a caravan. It backed out onto a huge garden that I knew I had visited before in my dreams. I settled into the back room to make a bed of square cushions, but gradually became aware that there was a beast inside the house with me.
We gathered outside for an exorcism. Through the glass I saw beings with small, glowing eyes and funnel-like mouths with lightbulbs inside, and I knew that they were not so frightening as the beast.
I noticed then that we were in a forest with a sand floor, and I left the house to find somewhere to build a fire. There, in a golden field under a calm grey sky, I met an old friend I have not seen for many years, and I realised the letter I held in my hands was from her.
She was far happier than she had been in the old days, and I was happy for her. She spoke to me about our life at school, and all the things I had never known about her but always suspected as the cause of her unhappiness. And as she talked I felt the loss of my own teenage years, a constant and inexplicable pain to me even now, disappear as if the blank spots in my life were being slowly erased by the brightening sky.
Then I woke up, with bits missing again.
I have cut an awful lot of detail out of this dream, including mundane bits about buses and wicker chairs and rooms with the sea in them and a gigantic house I keep coming back to in my sleep. Maybe I will include them some other time.
...we were going to stay with athenegenia in Durham, only for some reason BJ ended up staying at my aunt's house, which in this dream was on a tiny island in the northernmost part of Scotland. (Sometimes my dreams have a hugely distorted sense of space, with journeys taking ten times longer or shorter than they should, and different countries being like two exhibits yards apart in the same museum. I am quite certain that the two houses would have been within sight of each other, had they not been separated by a tall and implausibly thin brown brick wall.)
At this point BJ ceased to be BJ and athenegenia ceased to be herself, and instead became two strangers whose existence I was only vaguely aware of.
Not-athenegenia's place was a dark, one-storey semi-detached house with a swimming pool in the front room. The outside was quaint and pretty, all redbrick and white-painted latticework; the inside was like the inside of a caravan. It backed out onto a huge garden that I knew I had visited before in my dreams. I settled into the back room to make a bed of square cushions, but gradually became aware that there was a beast inside the house with me.
We gathered outside for an exorcism. Through the glass I saw beings with small, glowing eyes and funnel-like mouths with lightbulbs inside, and I knew that they were not so frightening as the beast.
I noticed then that we were in a forest with a sand floor, and I left the house to find somewhere to build a fire. There, in a golden field under a calm grey sky, I met an old friend I have not seen for many years, and I realised the letter I held in my hands was from her.
She was far happier than she had been in the old days, and I was happy for her. She spoke to me about our life at school, and all the things I had never known about her but always suspected as the cause of her unhappiness. And as she talked I felt the loss of my own teenage years, a constant and inexplicable pain to me even now, disappear as if the blank spots in my life were being slowly erased by the brightening sky.
Then I woke up, with bits missing again.
I have cut an awful lot of detail out of this dream, including mundane bits about buses and wicker chairs and rooms with the sea in them and a gigantic house I keep coming back to in my sleep. Maybe I will include them some other time.