Posts Tagged ‘France’

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dream (f/ Thore Schölermann & Brazil)

August 25, 2009

This is sort of becoming a dream blog!  This last week I have had so many vivid dreams, I feel almost privileged.  I have been all around Europe (France, Russia, Spain, Italy) and now I have visited a country I was praising only last week – Brazil!  These dream holidays are a lot cheaper than the real thing too 😉 It’s been a while since anyone plotted to kidnap or kill me (a usual fixture of my dreams), and in this one I have another hot boyfriend.

I was in a tropical forest atmosphere.  Me and my parents were on holiday in Brazil (I presume it was Brazil) and I was walking through the forest by myself.  There was beautiful scenery and a warm breeze was caressing my skin.  I found my boyfriend Thore Schölermann (HOT German soap actor from Verbotene Liebe, he plays Christian *sigh*… if I ever had a bf as hot in real life as I do in my dreams, I will be very lucky!) and we walked through the forest talking and being intimate occasionally kissing etc.  We sat on a grassy slope and ended up talking and lying together for ‘hours’.

Here are some pictures of what he looks like:

Then I went back to this hut which was a restaurant, and my parents were sat there with some random teenagers, and we were all preparing to have dinner.  I remember there being a little bit of an atmosphere between me and my parents, and I sat at the table and there was this small black bowl with a spoon.  Inside the bowl, there were slices of miniature kiwi with this white scoop of ice cream, but I don’t think it was ice cream.  I began to eat it, when my mother told me that I was eating it wrong – instead of eating with the bowl on the table, you had to put your knees up on the sofa and scrunch up, rest the bowl on your knees (apparently the bowl was “specially designed” for this) and eat it there.  I don’t know why, but this was the last straw for me and I slammed the bowl down on the table and stalked off.  I went back into the forest to try and find Thore, but I don’t think I did (it’s all a bit hazy now), and I realised I had left my phone on the dining table so I went back to the hut and walked around the outside watching my parents interacting with the teenagers.  My mum was complaining about how dramatic and sulky I was, and the teenagers were laughing.  I was upset at what my parents thought of me, but I knew I had to get my phone back, so I sucked it up, walked in the other end of the restaurant, circled the table and plucked the phone out from between the empty bowls.  My mother and the teenagers ignored me as if I weren’t there.

The next thing I remember was that we were at home, and me and my father were having another argument – I don’t even remember about what.  We ended up not speaking to one another and then I logged onto my laptop, and started reading his work emails.  We ended up communicating to each other via email, and we sorted it out.   I realised via his work emails that him and his colleagues would discuss their families, and although again I was described as “temperamental and moody”, I was also “the clever one”, so it wasn’t all bad.  I also found out that the reason why my dad sometimes got stressed was because he had to work until gone 8pm every night, except for on a Friday when he could finish at 6:45.  He had no chance of becoming a manager, whilst his colleagues didn’t have to work so many hours and a couple of them were being promoted.  I remember feeling bad for him as he must have been frustrated, so I resolved to try and be a little more patient before having arguments.  There was other stuff, but I don’t remember it (and I don’t think there was any more Thore 😦 ).


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another dream.

August 23, 2009

If you know me, you know that I quite often have very strange dreams.  This is the third vivid one I’ve had this week, after one where my French assistant from university, Anna Winterstein, had come to take me to France in her truck with her boyfriend, except we drove through Clifton to get to Moscow, and from Moscow we were going to drive to France in this truck.  Dreams ≠ logic.  And the worst part was that in the dream, Anna Winterstein was a murderer and a child molester, having slept with a 15yo girl in one of her classes (this is clearly taken from an article I’d been reading in the Metro during the day, where a female music teacher had been convicted of the exact same thing); I pleaded with my dad not to send me with her, but he wouldn’t listen!

Then, I had another dream also set in Moscow (added scenes set in St. Petersburg) where me and my father had to pick up all the rubbish off the streets.  I don’t know why I have been so fixated on Russia in my dreams lately, I’m not reading anything to do with Russia, and I haven’t really come into contact with anything Russian over the last few days.  But last night’s dream was not related to Russia, but instead had elements from Italy and Spain, combined with Bristol (of course).

I was at home with Dad and it transpired that I was supposed to be on holiday in Italy somewhere, but we’d come home for a couple of days in the middle of the holiday for a break from the holiday.  However, I was secretly going to sneak away back to Italy.  Me and my friend Tom Main (from school, I haven’t seen him for years) were on the patio outside, and we had to distract our next door neighbour Julie so that I could get inside and pack my suitcase and leave without her seeing.  We looked through the gap in the breeze block (which was in the pattern of a flower) and then we started singing Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” in eerie high squeaky voices.  Sure enough, Julie came out of the house next door and into the garden to investigate.  We crept back inside out house and I went to start packing my things.  Then Tom Main disappeared and my other friend from school Flick Waite (again, not seen or spoken to her in years!) appeared in the front driveway.  She asked me if I was ready to go, and I said I wouldn’t be a minute, just packing my suitcase.  My dad was sat in the lounge and I decided to tell him upfront that I was going, he said “fine, if that was what I wanted to do”.  I went upstairs to my room to pack my things, and I was folding up my blankets from the bed and packing my phone charger and some cds and things, and I remember thinking I had to hurry because otherwise Flick would go without me.  She called my phone after 15 minutes and asked where I was, I said that I would be down in a minute.  I shoved more things into a suitcase and then ran down the stairs and realised I had forgotten to pack any clothes, but then that all the clothes I needed would be back in the wardrobe in Italy.  I went outside to meet Flick, and we got in a taxi and disappeared.

The next thing I remember is being in a car with my dad and Nonna, driving to a Spanish airport (I think it was Spanish because the scenery reminded me of Spain).  We were in a race against time so that we didn’t miss our flight, and also because I had the vague idea another car was chasing us.  My dad was explaining the different routes we could take as he drove, and he said that it was good to go the way we were going because we could drive any direction we liked.  The motorway was gridlocked but then suddenly two parallel tunnels appeared, a round one and a square one.  My dad explained that we were lucky because we could go through either one of them.  We drove into the square tunnel, and it turned into a computer game where we had to navigate twists and chicanes and avoid crashing into the walls.  The tunnel underground was made of beige square paving slabs.  Occasionally, there would be a car (it was like a sporty sleek red stock racing car) moving slowly towards us, but we would drive around it and eventually we made it out of the tunnel and to the airport, which was on a boat (!) in a harbour.  We got out of the car, and ran onto the boat and looked around duty free (there was an M&S) while we waited for the plane.

Then I don’t know what happened to the airport but I was at my godmother Margaret’s house, and she was looking through old photos which were up on a big slide projector on the wall.  I don’t know why, but she started laughing and joking about something, and I thought it was at me.  She told me not to be so silly, but I was convinced that she thought I was stupid for some reason in the photo, so I started sulking and eventually I went home.  Mum and Dad were at home, and I sat at the table with Mum, where we had a brief conversation.  Mum asked me if I remembered the Christmas where we both went shopping and bought Mariah Carey perfume.  I said yes, but then I hid my wrist under the table because I was wearing a different perfume and I didn’t want her to know.  So I changed the subject and told them about Margaret making fun of me and how upset I was, because I felt that she wasn’t respecting me as an adult.  Dad was sat in his chair watching tv, and told me not to be so stupid, and that older relatives are allowed to tease you when they want.  Mum told me to ignore him and said she understood how I felt, and not to take it personally because there was nothing wrong with me and I did not overreact.  I walked up to Dad in his armchair and I realised that his arm and his foot were deformed, like a thalidomide baby.  He looked quite grumpy and tried to get me and mum to shut up so he could watch his programme on tv.  I woke up a couple of times, drifted off, reminisced about parts of the dream and tried to make sure i would remember it when I finally woke up properly.

If anyone can shed any light on what any of this dream might mean, go for it!  Because honestly, I have no idea 😉