27th of November 2012

Last night, I had a brief encounter with the man I have recently fallen out of love with.

We walked straight towards each other in a small alley in the old town, not far from where I live. He marched at a quick pace and, without stopping, went past me almost without a glance. By the nature of dreams, I knew it was him, even though his appearance had change drastically. Instead of his usual blonde, his hair was now quite short and of a natural red. Moreover, he was at least ten years younger than the “old” incarnation that I knew. The dream-emphasis with this was not on him appearing more youthful, but rather more adolescent. Matching with that, a complacent smile played around his lips.

The whole encounter and his disguise of change took me so much aback that I could not even succeed to some kind of greeting, let alone stop to talk. Like that, we just zipped past each other in a short moment which my dream played back in slow-motion.

31st of October 2012

I cry in my sleep. In the last couple of days, my waking life’s intense emotional distress and sadness apparently manifest themselves in tears I cry at night, in addition to the day-time ones. In the mornings, I can clearly see the traces of the many salty drops around my eyes and the remains of their streams down over my cheeks.

Otherwise, my dreams tend to be very confusing and mixed up of small parts, most of which are either too confumbled and unspectacular or too close to my emotional problems to want to share them here.

28th of October 2012

Last night, I had to infiltrate a mosque (for unknown reasons). To do so, I became a scholar of the Islam. In order to prove my loyalty to the Prophet and Allah, I soon had to produce a sweater ornate with Arabic writing, in to the pattern of which I also put some recursive Spiderman-design in green-red-black. Luckily for me, the young and self-assured Imam didn't recognise that.

After reading out my sweater and pointing to the language mistakes (I have not yet learned Arabic, in my waking life), he explained some simple dress codes to me: a golden head scarf on an older women or a middle-aged one would speak of her devotion to Allah. In an older women, possibly of her faithfulness to the deceased husband. Similarly, a pink burqa especially on older women would signal devotion to the Prophet and Allah, effectively marking her as a harmless part of the community. Soon after these teachings, the Hungarian connection of my subconscious finally broke through and we discovered cracks in the Mosque's high ceiling (the mosque itself being architecturally rather like a high, European church). Note that “the ceiling is cracking”, in Hungarian proverbial knowledge, marks a blatant liar’s doing.

Otherwise, I also travelled along an unknown coastline and there investigated a golf court, the coast itself, and a gold-gate-bridge like structure.

24th of October 2012

Last night, I dreamt the Earth as a creature - a giant mystical tree floating in orbit, connected via a, if you will, umbilical cord to its planetary self below. Despite its enormous size, Earth was also a nearly human-sized tree-being, which I talked to, standing on a patch of glowing light at the giant tree's lower end, floating in space. I asked it whether it would like me to cut its hair, to which Earth happily agreed, turned around and let me cut the hair and twigs on its head into shape.

To actually reach the floating Earth-self, I had had to climb up one and down a second half decrepit, enormous and slender Arabian fairy tale styled towers floating next to the giant Earth-tree; all while carrying my mother on my back.