June 2012
I was at my grandmother's house. We had an ukrainian servant, he was an ilegal immigrant.
...
At some point there was a knock on the door. Me and my grandmother opened. There was a large man wearing a cream raincoat, he looked like Dolph Lundgren. He was a russian agent accompanied by two smaller guys wearing darker raincoats. He was looking for an escaped ukrainian man. I tried to avoid looking in the direction our servant was hiding so to disguise my nervousness. The main agent looked at me with a grim smile as I told him I wasn't aware of any escaped ukrainian man. Obviously he knew I was lying. He was also aware I didn't invite him to enter, so it was a tense situation.
At some point he passed some object to my hand. I didn't dare looking at it, I instinctively knew it was some dreadful object. He then left and I woke up with a feeling of terror.
... . . .
I felt relieved it was a dream.
It was funny that Dolph Lundgren was there.
segunda-feira, 25 de junho de 2012
terça-feira, 17 de abril de 2012
April 17, 2012
I was Ralph Fiennes and was helping Matt Damon pushing two huge car pieces up some hill by the sea. Me and Matt were the protagonists of The Bourne trilogy, although it felt real. Behind us were the Summer sun and the blue sea at Nazaré. It was an extremely hot day and we were both drenched in sweat. While we were climbing, we felt a presence behind us which we thought it would be a car to help us with our load; we looked back and saw only a bunch of male tourists in t-shirt and beach shorts staring at us with a dumb look on their faces.
At some point the hill became quite sloped and one of us was about to give up (I can't remember who), but the other one said it would be a complete waste to quit when we were so close to the top. And in fact we were just at the end. I stopped and looked ahead, resting; the road kept going in front of me, with well kept grass. I saw a tree on my left side and a yellow house on my right side, further ahead.
I started walking, my load wasn't important anymore. I remembered saying to I... that The Bourne trilogy was one of the best action movie series I knew, although I had not seen any of the movies entirely.
Suddenly it was night. The road was the same, but I was at the other side of Nazaré, now descending. The town was sleeping. All windows were dark, except for one in a building at my right. It was my father's bedroom. I tried to figure out why the room was lit; no one could be seen in the room. I looked to my left, to the other side of the street, at a construction site. It had a wooden cabinet between two parked cars, which served as toilet. It was an exquisite little toilet, red and blue, shaped like a tiny chalet. I approached and noticed someone was sitting there with the door opened. It was my father. He was drunk and trying to get rid of a couple of flies waving his hands randomly. I asked him about him being there when he had a perfectly good toilet inside. He told me, half sleeping, half repelling the flies, half taking a crap, that he enjoyed the fresh air. I argued no more.
... . . .
I woke up, thinking I should watch The Bourne trilogy.
I was Ralph Fiennes and was helping Matt Damon pushing two huge car pieces up some hill by the sea. Me and Matt were the protagonists of The Bourne trilogy, although it felt real. Behind us were the Summer sun and the blue sea at Nazaré. It was an extremely hot day and we were both drenched in sweat. While we were climbing, we felt a presence behind us which we thought it would be a car to help us with our load; we looked back and saw only a bunch of male tourists in t-shirt and beach shorts staring at us with a dumb look on their faces.
At some point the hill became quite sloped and one of us was about to give up (I can't remember who), but the other one said it would be a complete waste to quit when we were so close to the top. And in fact we were just at the end. I stopped and looked ahead, resting; the road kept going in front of me, with well kept grass. I saw a tree on my left side and a yellow house on my right side, further ahead.
I started walking, my load wasn't important anymore. I remembered saying to I... that The Bourne trilogy was one of the best action movie series I knew, although I had not seen any of the movies entirely.
Suddenly it was night. The road was the same, but I was at the other side of Nazaré, now descending. The town was sleeping. All windows were dark, except for one in a building at my right. It was my father's bedroom. I tried to figure out why the room was lit; no one could be seen in the room. I looked to my left, to the other side of the street, at a construction site. It had a wooden cabinet between two parked cars, which served as toilet. It was an exquisite little toilet, red and blue, shaped like a tiny chalet. I approached and noticed someone was sitting there with the door opened. It was my father. He was drunk and trying to get rid of a couple of flies waving his hands randomly. I asked him about him being there when he had a perfectly good toilet inside. He told me, half sleeping, half repelling the flies, half taking a crap, that he enjoyed the fresh air. I argued no more.
... . . .
I woke up, thinking I should watch The Bourne trilogy.
sexta-feira, 13 de abril de 2012
April 12, 2012
Me and I... were at some bar with stone walls and cozy ambience. We were having a casual conversation. At some point wanted to go elsewhere. "Where to?", I asked. She paused for a moment to think about it and then told me she wanted to go play pool. I was a bit surprised because it wasn't something I would expect her to want. At first I said "I don't know, I'm not a good player...", but then I reconsidered "What the hell, I can play as badly as any person who doesn't usually play".
...
Somehow we ended up at my parent's handicraft shop. I was taking care of the place while my parents were gone. It was a bit boring to be there when we both wanted to go elsewhere. I... was standing with her hands inside the pockets of her poppy red overcoat. It was about 17:30 so I decided to close. But then a couple of foreigners entered the shop. I tried to welcome them but they realized I was pretending and that I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. So I went into the basement while I... watched over the shop. I had to change trousers, and I also wanted the couple to leave. While I was undressing, I heard the steps of the couple going away, and then I started to rush, but I couldn't find my underwear no matter how hard I looked for it. I considered going without it but decided not to. I was getting more and more upset. I started yelling to myself.
... . . .
I woke up. This dream wasn't so bad even though I didn't feel happy in it.
Me and I... were at some bar with stone walls and cozy ambience. We were having a casual conversation. At some point wanted to go elsewhere. "Where to?", I asked. She paused for a moment to think about it and then told me she wanted to go play pool. I was a bit surprised because it wasn't something I would expect her to want. At first I said "I don't know, I'm not a good player...", but then I reconsidered "What the hell, I can play as badly as any person who doesn't usually play".
...
Somehow we ended up at my parent's handicraft shop. I was taking care of the place while my parents were gone. It was a bit boring to be there when we both wanted to go elsewhere. I... was standing with her hands inside the pockets of her poppy red overcoat. It was about 17:30 so I decided to close. But then a couple of foreigners entered the shop. I tried to welcome them but they realized I was pretending and that I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. So I went into the basement while I... watched over the shop. I had to change trousers, and I also wanted the couple to leave. While I was undressing, I heard the steps of the couple going away, and then I started to rush, but I couldn't find my underwear no matter how hard I looked for it. I considered going without it but decided not to. I was getting more and more upset. I started yelling to myself.
... . . .
I woke up. This dream wasn't so bad even though I didn't feel happy in it.
quarta-feira, 11 de abril de 2012
April 10, 2012
I was at home with I... . My brother was there too.
She was constantly criticizing my behavior, and she was also upset about something I had said. She was sitting on a brown cushioned armchair and I was sitting on one of its arms, although I felt as if I were sitting on her lap. Her hair was wet like if she had washed it just a moment ago. While caressing her hair, I kept trying to explain her the reasons why she shouldn't get upset about what I had said. She kept coldly staring at me, becoming more and more impatient about my explanation. I begun lacking words to reason with her.
...
Then we were walking on a big square at Nazaré. I wanted to show her the town. She was criticizing the way I dressed and walked. She told me I would never get a job acting like that. I felt really bad because I didn't know what was wrong with my appearance (she would never speak to me like this in reality). She told me I should use sports clothing and I replied I didn't want to because I had worn sports clothing for about 5 years during my teenage days; she was shocked to hear this and looked at me with disdain and disbelief. Then she suddenly decided to go elsewhere alone and I had no reaction. I stood there watching her go some other part of town.
It was getting dark and I couldn't find her. There was a lot of people in the streets, and all restaurants and bars had greenish yellow lights, and it was as if my eyes were blurry from steam. While I looked for her, wandering around the square, I frequently found friends and acquainted persons from a long time ago. They all mocked me for not being able to find her. They all jested about the fact the she didn't care the least bit about me.
It was night. One of them told me she was near the beach watching the fishmonger women playing a traditional Easter game consisting in trowing a tennis ball against a wooden box. I advanced in the direction they pointed and saw her from afar, gaily observing the women having fun. Or maybe I just imagined her.
... . . .
I woke up, sweating, anxious. I grow weary of these dreams...
I was at home with I... . My brother was there too.
She was constantly criticizing my behavior, and she was also upset about something I had said. She was sitting on a brown cushioned armchair and I was sitting on one of its arms, although I felt as if I were sitting on her lap. Her hair was wet like if she had washed it just a moment ago. While caressing her hair, I kept trying to explain her the reasons why she shouldn't get upset about what I had said. She kept coldly staring at me, becoming more and more impatient about my explanation. I begun lacking words to reason with her.
...
Then we were walking on a big square at Nazaré. I wanted to show her the town. She was criticizing the way I dressed and walked. She told me I would never get a job acting like that. I felt really bad because I didn't know what was wrong with my appearance (she would never speak to me like this in reality). She told me I should use sports clothing and I replied I didn't want to because I had worn sports clothing for about 5 years during my teenage days; she was shocked to hear this and looked at me with disdain and disbelief. Then she suddenly decided to go elsewhere alone and I had no reaction. I stood there watching her go some other part of town.
It was getting dark and I couldn't find her. There was a lot of people in the streets, and all restaurants and bars had greenish yellow lights, and it was as if my eyes were blurry from steam. While I looked for her, wandering around the square, I frequently found friends and acquainted persons from a long time ago. They all mocked me for not being able to find her. They all jested about the fact the she didn't care the least bit about me.
It was night. One of them told me she was near the beach watching the fishmonger women playing a traditional Easter game consisting in trowing a tennis ball against a wooden box. I advanced in the direction they pointed and saw her from afar, gaily observing the women having fun. Or maybe I just imagined her.
... . . .
I woke up, sweating, anxious. I grow weary of these dreams...
terça-feira, 10 de abril de 2012
April 10, 2012
I was with my mother inside our Nissan Micra from 1993. We were going home. While going up a hill I some why decided to let the steering wheel go. I think I was testing the steering. My mother warned me about the cliff just outside the road, but I was overconfident and was too late taking control over the car.
The fall was like something out of the old Looney Tunes: the car was frozen in the air for maybe a second, the wheels and lower chassis fell, then the rest of the car fell. I was able to jump out but my mother took the weight of the upper chassis on her back.
She was lying on the floor, her back was facing up and I could tell she was seriously injured on her face and chest, even though I couldn't turn her over. She couldn't talk but was breathing. For some reason I decided to call my grandmother and ask her to call the police, instead of calling them myself. My grandmother began asking questions, and she was slow and couldn't understand everything I said. I was getting really annoyed with her, but she kept making me questions in a calm tone.
... . . .
I woke up, relieved. I remembered how my grandmother has recently recommenced over explaining simple things.
I was with my mother inside our Nissan Micra from 1993. We were going home. While going up a hill I some why decided to let the steering wheel go. I think I was testing the steering. My mother warned me about the cliff just outside the road, but I was overconfident and was too late taking control over the car.
The fall was like something out of the old Looney Tunes: the car was frozen in the air for maybe a second, the wheels and lower chassis fell, then the rest of the car fell. I was able to jump out but my mother took the weight of the upper chassis on her back.
She was lying on the floor, her back was facing up and I could tell she was seriously injured on her face and chest, even though I couldn't turn her over. She couldn't talk but was breathing. For some reason I decided to call my grandmother and ask her to call the police, instead of calling them myself. My grandmother began asking questions, and she was slow and couldn't understand everything I said. I was getting really annoyed with her, but she kept making me questions in a calm tone.
... . . .
I woke up, relieved. I remembered how my grandmother has recently recommenced over explaining simple things.
segunda-feira, 9 de abril de 2012
April 7, 2012
I was at Porto, at a party someone was giving in a small apartment. I was in the kitchen, talking to several persons I have never seen. There was a short haired caucasian guy speaking to me about an hallucinogenic drug. He told me the drug had the power to turn everything better. I told him that no drug could turn sex even better. Then a girl there looked at me asserting on what he was saying. He placed the drug in my hand, wrapped in a transparent plastic lid. I touched the opened surface of the drug with my fingertip and became immediately dizzy. I put the drug away and went in the living room. It looked cozy, with several cushioned red armchairs and a brick fireplace the same color. My brother was there, and some other persons. All of them reading or at least looking at books. It looked like the room for the shy people invited to the party. I sat on one of the armchairs beside the one my brother was sitting. I told him something with no importance just to talk. Then I saw this brazilian girl with a black t-shirt right in front of me. She pressed her chest against my face and talked to my ear: "Do you want a quicky?". It didn't take me long to react: I thought about I... and maybe about my brother for a second and said "yes". Still in intimacy, we decided we were going to my home. We were leaving...
... . . .
I woke up. It was a nice dream.
I was at Porto, at a party someone was giving in a small apartment. I was in the kitchen, talking to several persons I have never seen. There was a short haired caucasian guy speaking to me about an hallucinogenic drug. He told me the drug had the power to turn everything better. I told him that no drug could turn sex even better. Then a girl there looked at me asserting on what he was saying. He placed the drug in my hand, wrapped in a transparent plastic lid. I touched the opened surface of the drug with my fingertip and became immediately dizzy. I put the drug away and went in the living room. It looked cozy, with several cushioned red armchairs and a brick fireplace the same color. My brother was there, and some other persons. All of them reading or at least looking at books. It looked like the room for the shy people invited to the party. I sat on one of the armchairs beside the one my brother was sitting. I told him something with no importance just to talk. Then I saw this brazilian girl with a black t-shirt right in front of me. She pressed her chest against my face and talked to my ear: "Do you want a quicky?". It didn't take me long to react: I thought about I... and maybe about my brother for a second and said "yes". Still in intimacy, we decided we were going to my home. We were leaving...
... . . .
I woke up. It was a nice dream.
April 6, 2012
I was at the village house in which I lived until I reached 24. S... and her boyfriend were there. My brother too. It was night and the house was badly lit.
...
I had finished using the toilet and I was using a piece of toilet paper to clean my penis, as I heard S... coming in my direction. I tried to rush it so she wouldn't see me like that. She saw me and started laughing about my figure and commented on how small my organ was. She laughed like a dumb college girl. Her boyfriend came along wandering what was happening so she told him. He told her not to be so childish and he actually defended me, still maintaining distance from the awkward situation, as if all he wanted was to get S... away from there. My brother wasn't getting the conversation.
... . . .
I woke up and was reminded of I... . It took me some effort to remember I had a dream which gladly wasn't about I... . It also took me a while to recollect the dream from my memory.
I was at the village house in which I lived until I reached 24. S... and her boyfriend were there. My brother too. It was night and the house was badly lit.
...
I had finished using the toilet and I was using a piece of toilet paper to clean my penis, as I heard S... coming in my direction. I tried to rush it so she wouldn't see me like that. She saw me and started laughing about my figure and commented on how small my organ was. She laughed like a dumb college girl. Her boyfriend came along wandering what was happening so she told him. He told her not to be so childish and he actually defended me, still maintaining distance from the awkward situation, as if all he wanted was to get S... away from there. My brother wasn't getting the conversation.
... . . .
I woke up and was reminded of I... . It took me some effort to remember I had a dream which gladly wasn't about I... . It also took me a while to recollect the dream from my memory.
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