Tag: Germany

H***arts Reference

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I start with some recurring stuff, my sister coming home and high school finals. After that, I dream that that I go to a party in a large restaurant, full of elegant people sitting at tables with white tablecloths. I’m a young girl, I’m sitting with three other kids, one of them is a boy with curly hair.

The people at the table next to us are having an unpleasant, quite racist conversation. The curly-haired boy steals a pen drive from one of them, a wealthy-looking man. He quickly unlocks the pen drive with the right password: the man is his father, the boy explain, and now we’ll have to run away from him.

We hide in the garage belonging to one of the adults. My face has turned orange, because our pursues have cast a spell on me. The boy rummages around and finds a box full of colorful wands. “Aren’t they German?” one of the other kids asks. No, the boy says, Germans all go to that fancy European magic school. Everyone gets a wand and we cast a spell to fly away, I remember the green fields running below us just before waking up.

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The Rain In My Dreams Is Wishful Thinking

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that it’s my brother’s birthday and I bought him hand cream and mints. My sister hasn’t bought him anything so I win.

We decide to go downtown to look for a present, we walk out the gate and realize we forgot our masks. My sister runs back in and fetches two yellow fabric ones. It’s raining and as we walk through the park we notice that the people sitting at the picnic tables don’t have umbrellas and are getting soaked. I explain to my sister that those are German tourists, they don’t bother with umbrellas because where they come from it rains all the time anyways, it’s a bit like Londoners.

(Photo by Lauren Fleischmann on Unsplash)

We arrive at a clothes stores, my sister shows me how to hang our bags from special magnets sticking from the cash register. It’s such an insider trick, I think, you can really tell she worked in a store before. My old Nokia is in my bag, one of the salesboys is looking at it with interest. It’s still a really good phone, he says. He starts chatting and telling us the story of his life, it’s very boring and we have to remind him to go help the long line of customers that has formed. One of the customers is a woman called Napoleon. She’s missing an eye.

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Trip to IKEA!

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that my Gran lives in a pretty little town. I go visit her. There is an IKEA nearby and a bus that can take us directly there so we plan our trip, but as we go I realize I forgot my purse and face mask, I have to run back to the house.

I collect my things and go back again. The town is beautiful, there are churches and a big white monument, I wish I could take pictures but the phone in my pocket is my old 2000s Nokia. I find Gran sitting at the bus stop chatting with some ladies. They send me to a nearby pizza takeout to buy our bus tickets, the owners speak German for some reason (maybe I am in Germany??) but they understand my English. They want to be paid in Marks, I’m confused because I only have Euros with me.

(I should add that while all this happened I was somewhat aware I was dreaming, I kept waking up and stubbornly going back to sleep because I really wanted to go to IKEA. I couldn’t tell you if it was a dream in a dream situation or I was legit waking up for a second or two.)

We finally reach IKEA and it’s nothing like the real thing, more like a bazar. There’s only one type of item I’m looking forward to: stationary! I spend ten minutes agonizing over washi tapes, much to the other costumers’ annoyance. I finally select one with fish illustrations. I’m moving on to stickers, when a woman stops me and ask for help picking a fountain pen. I’m wearing a red polo shirt and she must have mistaken me for an employee, she’s so disappointed when I tell her I’m not she violently wakes me up.

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