Tag: 90s

Twenty Years Later I’m still Heartbroken About That Doll

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that it’s raining and I’m looking transfixed at a toy store window. On display there is a secondhand Skipper doll, just like the one I had as a child. I walk inside and ask how much she is, the owner says 45 bucks. I buy her. The owner leads me to a basement where he’s keeping a dozens vintage porcelain dolls. I think I recognize some of them, as if they were mine in a past life. I tell the owner about how my father maliciously decapitated my old Skipper (this happened IRL). Moved, he takes a tiny paintbrush to add some details to the new one, make her extra special for me.

(photo by Annalisa Bianca Fornasier on flickr)

Then I dream that my siblings and I are children again and we are moving to a new house. We decide who gets which room, we sell all our plants. We dismantle the old kitchen. Deep down I’m sad to leave the old house and I know I will miss the local stray cats. I’m relieved when I wake up and realize I’m not moving after all.

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Unsettling Grandmother

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I’m with my cousin in the building’s parking lot, we are about to go inside the basement door when a black cat approaches us, he looks very chill and not afraid at all. My cousin asks if it’s my cat, I say it’s not, because my cat’s eyes are green and this one’s are yellow.

We go inside and the building has now turned into a tall maze with different stores and events on every floor. This is a recurring dream of mine, and I tell my cousin I can never find my way out when the it changes like this.

There is a giant pharmacy on the first floor, then a stock exchange. My dad makes his way through the various businessmen, he looks like Ricky Moranis did in the 90s. He stars yelling,

I want money! I want money! I WANT MONEY!

and he’s so convincing that one of the businessmen cedes him the right to some old songs. We go through them to figure out how much they’re worth. They come mostly from pulpy old movies, but there’s also a Christmas album from the cast of the cartoon “Sing”.

They are filming a Spiderman VS Thor movie in my neighborhood, but it’s very low budget. I’m watching Spiderman jump on top of my gate, and I can clearly see he used a trampoline badly hidden under a blanket.

I follow the actors as they run down the streets I’m so familiar with. We arrive at my late Grandma G.’s house: she and my dad are sunbathing in the yard. My brother approaches her and asks,

What is your true form?

She open her eyes and I shiver because I’m sure she’s about to unleash some ancient, unspeakable Eldritch horror on us. But my brother dips his hands in water and gently tickles and massages her bare feet. My grandma laughs and refuses to answer. Instead she tells us to keep our soulmates close.

My brother says he met his soulmate in a videogame. Grandma says out loud the name of mine, but I can’t remember it anymore.

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A detail

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

This is all I remember from tonight. I find an old VHS tape, something out of my childhood. I turn the tape in my hands, examining it: the label says “Disney’s Fire Truck”. I know I taped over it though, if I still had a player I would find Robocop and Home Alone 2. I reflect with nostalgia about a simpler time when I could just tape every movie I wanted directly from my TV.

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Blood, Fire and Disappointment

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

Note: the man I’m gonna write about today is a rather famous person who I admire very much. I’d hate for him to accidentally find this dream where some terrible stuff happens to his actual family, I was even tempted to not record it at all. In the end I decided to leave his name out, just in case.

I’m watching a live stream. In it a man is driving a car and at the same time recording a vlog with his wife and children. A terrible accident happens, an explosion. We see the younger child, no more than a toddler, buried by rock and debris, his face burnt and bloody. The older brother is also badly burned. The father looks into the phone camera he’s recording with, his face covered in soot and deadly scared, and tells the audience he’s gonna run for help.

The day goes by slowly, I keep thinking about the accident, wondering what happened, checking Twitter for updates. Finally the man tweets something. A Christian prayer, and then a picture of his younger son with a heartbreaking epitaph. I’m not surprised, the child was badly hurt. But where is the brother?

The live stream starts again, we are showed the other child. His black t-shirt and jeans are burned, it’s night and he’s walking alone into a drive-in restaurant. Inside, standing under neon lights on the shiny floor tiles, there’s no other than Emperor Palpatine. He tries to turn the child to the dark side, but gets stabbed in return: the boy killed him!

People on the Internet rejoice at seeing the boy alive and well, but I’m growing suspicious. The car accident, the fight with Palpatine, it all looked kind of… staged, produced even. Was it all a lie? An excuse for this boy get away with murder? Did the father even got as far as sacrificing his own younger child to get the older one to succeed? I feel shaken.

Another quick dream, because I slept in this Sunday morning.

I notice at the supermarket colorful cardboard boxes on a shelf. I look closer and see pictured on the boxes a set of vintage 90s mugs, just like the ones I used to have breakfast in as a kid! I buy three, one with Chip ‘n Dale, one with Mickey and Donald, and one with Tony the Tiger.

I run home all excited, I want to show them to my sister. She’s sitting on the toilet but doesn’t seem to mind. We open a box and we are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of artificial chocolate, it’s really bad. There are no functional mugs inside, just three plastic replicas with Styrofoam cereal in it. They are cute and colorful, but quite useless.

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