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A strange dream

So: I was in a restaurant. And I was looking for a table. And the restaurant was a cellar made of lots of caves. Lots of stairs, up and down, too. So many small rooms with just one desk in them. I was impressed. It was a formidable labyrinth. And everything was very old.

And somehow I knew the waiter, who was the owner of all these caves. He was a person of authority – which was odd for a waiter. It was an intimidating authority. I felt uncomfortable with it. It was like the authority of a priest, based on absurd assumptions you were not free to question. If you questioned them – you went straight to hell.

And then we were in a huge hall with a circle of tables with white tablecloth. Like for a wedding. I was there with just one more person. I can’t see who it was. Way down the table there was an old school buddy of mine, who later became a policeman.

Then I spilled a huge glass of water over the tablecloth and the floor, which was very embarrassing for the person who was with me. I said: “It’s water and this is a restaurant – so what?”

My school buddy the policeman came over to discuss the situation. It felt like a crime scene, wrong, totally out of proportion for me – but not for the people around me.

Categories: Writing
  1. May 14, 2011 at 2:58 pm

    These are the kinds of dreams that I am very happy to wake up and find they are dreams even though the emotions are still roller-coasting through my blood stream.

    • May 15, 2011 at 1:15 pm

      It was not even that bad, Terrill. It was me thinking: “Either you are all crazy or I am.” It’s not nice, a bit of aggression mixed into it, a “being out of tune with the external world”.

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