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Morning of December 23, after focusing on the theme of death and rebirth.
I work for a bookseller called Pseudo. We are arranging a fair/puppet show that will take place in a parking lot in town. There is a caravan all decked out to look like the House of Horrors and most of the other employees, all girls, are in there. I realize I have to ride along with our boss/captain, a chubby blonde man who makes me uncomfortable, in his white convertible. I huddle against the car door as he drives. It is summer, very warm and lush. We ride along until the road stops and then all get out. There are very tall grasses in a field, and I want to take photos of the other girls sihouetted against the decorative grasses and orange sunset. I think of lining them up with steel marching drums along the horizon. Then we scramble over rocks , very smooth rocks and it is sunny again. We arrive at a small, clean beach. There is a very beautiful, mahogany building undulating along the beach. It is designed to resemble the waves and the rocks. The boss says “those Americans - they take better care to preserve their stuff than we do”. I am alarmed. When did we cross a border ? Preserve what ? their environment ? their monuments ? He starts to climb some balconies nearby and I follow. Then I see him lifting a decorative grate that is near the water and he climbs down into a brightly lit room. Suddenly he is greeted by two sailors, who proceed to fight with him. Now I am scared and run along the opposite side of the building. Here it is dirty, not well maintained. Very soon I find myself in the parking lot, our destination. Employees from a competiting bookstore are there, waiting with folded arms. Oh, here’s someone from Pseudo finally, they say. Their store is called Paradigm. As I head towards them I am slowly waking up.
Notes
I don’t recognize anything in this dream, none of the people or the landscape. Pseudo and Paradigm seem to have some meaning in relation to the incubated theme of Death and Rebirth, as does the House of Horrors perhaps. Towards the end it started to feel like a computer game. The steel drums were in my dream of yesterday, when I was also in a car and we passed a group of percussionists playing the same drums, who didn’t make any sound despite their ferocious banging.
Jeannette Lambert
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