March 2012

I was walking in the streets of Porto having some sort of conversation with chef Gordon Ramsay. He was wearing his white chef shirt and all his gestures and vocal intonations were exactly like on TV. I don't know what we were talking about, maybe about the city and its food.
...

At some point he saw a woman, a portuguese woman, and immediately turned his attitude into that of  an alpha male, surrounding her and engaging in lewd conversation. So she rapidly started feeling harassed and used her cell phone to call the police, which arrived almost instantly. At this point there were already a few curious people watching the scene, and Ramsay started insulting the woman.
As Gordon was being arrested I asked him repeatedly: "What the fuck?! What are you doing? What the fuck are you thinking?".
Then I moved on visiting the streets and I ended up in a building which interior was very familiar to me from previous dreams, although in the actual dream I recalled it as I would have done with any other memory.
The entrance hall was occupied by a big wooden stair, like a squared spiral upwards, and the wood had a very shiny and fake red tone produced by the use of enormous quantities of lacquer. It also had excessive cheap ornamentation giving it the aspect of a chinese store.
I reached the top by climbing just two stories. There I found a few restaurant tables with white towels which looked equally cheap. In one of those tables a group of old ladies (maybe 3) had had their meals long ago and were chatting and sewing some clothing by hand. They looked at me as if I was someone very familiar and, although I recognized them, I wasn't completely at ease with them.
...

I descended the stairs and left.
 ... .  .   .

I woke up and remembered I had seen that building before in other dreams, but it was a lot taller and I used to wake up by falling down the stairs.
I laughed with the idea of going trough the streets talking to Gordon Ramsay and using his language to protest against him.