I dream that I’m sitting on a bench next to a wealthy couple. The husband is telling me about the last thing he bought and how happy it is about it. I tell him that I saw a yellow and black butterfly, he’s fascinated by it and I know I’ve convinced him that money ain’t that important.
The wife is not gonna be that easy. I invite her to a castle where Reese from Malcom in the Middle is brewing a stinky potion. I know that’s just what her truculent personality needs.
I dream that my penpal C. is visiting, we go to the local supermarket together and I promise I’ll buy her and her sister twin chocolate eggs (she doesn’t have a sister IRL). I say we should go to Venice next, she’s a bit worried because the sky is dark and stormy. How far away is it anyway, she asks. I say don’t worry, I’ll rent a carriage. A man shows up with a two horse carriage and takes us to Venice in less than ten minutes. C. is fascinated and walks around aimlessly, she takes a purple lily from a stand, the florist looks at me pointedly and I take out my wallet. I don’t have any money in it, just paper scraps.
I dream that I’m selling my old camera on eBay. A girl from my school says she’ll take it and that sounds great, now I won’t even have the hassle to package and ship the camera. I talk to the girl, she’s a teen and seems a bit taken aback that I’m an adult. She asks my age, I say I’m 34. “You’re old!” she says, I’m a bit annoyed because I really don’t feel that old.
I clean and sanitize the camera and give it to the girl, she immediately leaves for a far away city. We’re texting that night when I suddenly realize we haven’t discussed payment yet. I write her that I’m gonna need 240 bucks for the camera, she immediately ghosts me.
I dream that I’m giving English lessons to a young Russian mobster. He arrives late, but he seems quite invested in my teachings. I start with the alphabet, then go into a short story about a summer camp murder. He wants to keep reading but Kira Nerys plants her hands on the table and says time is up.
Then I dream that my brother sends me a link to a Sims CAS mod that will apparently improve my experience drastically. The site is subscription based and I balk when I see it’s 11 pounds a month. How much is that in regular money?! I have no idea but I’m sure it’s too much. The mod looks so nice though… I cave in and I’m filling the subscription form when my alarm rings.
I dream that I’m at the park playing foosball with friends. Someone comes to tell me that my wallet was found, why did I leave my bag unattended on a bench? I look inside and I’m missing 110 bucks, I’m very upset and ask around for information, nobody has seen anything. The park owner, who looks like an actual mobster, is making fun of me.
Flash forward to the court case: I’m accusing park owner of theft and apparently I have very compelling evidence. My aunt M. is my lawyer, instead of a black court gown she’s wearing a sparkly white dress, she looks like Elsa. I’m really looking forward to hear this hard evidence, but I wake up.
I dream that I open a bookstore with two old schoolmates, M. and C. We only sell books about the Middle Ages so it’s not very successful. We’re going home one night when we see our rival bookstore has displayed animals (some sort of white monkeys) and toddlers in their storefront window. I don’t know if the toddlers are alive or just dolls, they move like real children but they look fake, they all have an identical bowl cut and their faces are covered in thin white fur. I pick one up and it’s drooling all over me, I clean its mouth.
We are now late, we rush to the train stop (it’s like a tram stop but for trains!) and barely miss our ride. We have no choice but to call a cab; a big, fancy orange car appears to pick us up, I cannot sit in the back with my friends because them are the rules, I have to climb into the trunk, it’s not pleasant. The cab driver is speaking in a foreign language on his phone, the only words I understand are “Angela Merkel”. The road to town is made of white marble and almost vertical, I’m terrified we won’t make it and when we reach the top I jump out the trunk. I tell my friends I’ll pay them back my fare tomorrow, they yell back it’s gonna be 15 bucks. As I run away I see them take one calculator each as they start checking if the cab fare is right. I marvel at how they can still do math after all these years.
I dream that I’m counting money and I’m so bad at it, all the numbers get confused, I end up having to ask my brother’s help.
Then I dream that my cousin calls me back to the store to help out. We’re no longer a phone store though, now we patch up clothes, and I help a young couple with their toddler’s yellow shirt. My cousin offers me to stay, but I’ll have to work for free. I say no, and I’m so proud of standing up for myself. The young couple say they have a job for me too:
You see, we like to go to the bar at night and read poetry with our friends, we drink beer…
They talk and talk and I have no idea what the job is. My cousin later explains they needed someone to collect their darts from the board when they play at the bar.
I dream that I stop at a stationary store. As I’m buying two pens (a fine liner and a brush pen) the owner tells me the store is going out of business. I crumple on the floor crying. This was the last stationary store in town, I sob, what am I gonna do now?! The pens cost five bucks, I’m so upset I demand to only pay three.
Instead of going home I end up at the mall to blow out some steam. I decide to take a bus to go back, I don’t have a ticket but I can always pretend I forgot it. It’s too late when I realize the bus is going the wrong way. How am I going home now? We arrive at a small rocky alley, the driver makes us all get out of the bus, we dismantle the roof and carry it to the other side. Above our heads there are tall, narrow houses made of white rock. From a balcony, my late great-aunt E. waves at me. She looks like she always did, with her white hair in a tight bun. She asks how my parents are.
I dream that I’m taking my telemarketing job to the next level and selling door-to-door. I arrive at the house of an old man called Peter Minniti, he is apparently a great politician of yonder. His house is a small villa outside Florence, it’s late evening and he’s a bit upset about the intrusion, but his wife makes me tea. I try to sell him a phone subscription, he agrees to come by the store and asks for my number. I can’t seem to be able to type it in his phone and it’s getting late, so late, I’m sweating with anxiety. I eventually write it down on a piece of paper and leave in a hurry.
It’s so dark outside, I don’t know my way. I send my car forward on its own, then realize I was supposed to sent it north, and north is the opposite way! What can I do? Start walking and hope for the best? The old politician and his wife appear on their window and tell me they saw pictures of my nephew on Instagram, I don’t know what to say to that. A funeral procession passes by.
I walk and walk and walk and know I will never reach home, and then I realize I can just wake up and be home in a second.
I dream that my father wants to sell our mountain house, I’m so devastated I want to sabotage the whole operation. Four potential buyers arrive, dad gives them a fresh watermelon from our garden. “It’s not the best, but it’s homegrown,” he says.
One of the buyer is a beautiful old lady with long white hair. She comes over to say hi, she apparently follows my Instagram. I wonder if I can make her pity me enough she’d let me come back from time to time. She says she understands why I’m sad, I say, “How can you?! I was born and raised here!”
At the end the four visitors decide to buy the house together. They pay 200 bucks each.
I dream that my mother and I are taking part in a horror tour. It’s night when our bus arrives at a haunted old mansion, we get inside along with all the other guests, cheering and laughing.
The mansion is haunted alright, but I soon figure out the ghosts and other scary presences (mostly dead girls, pale, bleeding) cannot be touched and can’t harm us in any way. I feel relieved, amused, even. There’s something else about the house though, something odd: it seems to be able to read our minds. I can think about anything I want, anything at all, and the house makes it happen.
I want to buy a souvenir. I see a dish set hanging from the wall, beautiful golden and white plates. As soon as I think it the set flies into my arms and the money leaves my bank account, just like magic. I ask for the check and it’s projected directly into my brain. I say out loud I’d rather have a paper copy and a young maid brings it to me. She says,
Thank you, these numbers will help me win the lottery, back in 2005.
I go back to the bus and realize my mother is nowhere to be found. As I’m starting to worry she finally runs out from the main door, looking frantic, screaming, her face contorted with fear. A waiter is following her, his white shirt covered in yellow puke. I have a moment of terrifying realization: this cannot be my mother. She would never act like this. This is a ghost trying to escape, and my real mother is still trapped inside.
Everybody begs me to stop, but I’m already running back. The doors close behind me, the tour bus leaves, and with a shiver I realize I’m the one being trapped here. Just like the house wanted.
I wake up and fall back to sleep. Now I’m at home, waiting for the police to arrive. A man with round glasses has showed me the future, I know I’m wanted, I know the police will seize all my favorite pens (I hide them, just in case), and I know that my mother will be arrested as well.
I see a police car and a van arriving and parking outside. As I open the door I tell my parents to stay calm: surely it’s all a mistake, if we explain ourselves we can avoid any trouble. I open the door and dozens upon dozens of officers pour in. Most of them go directly to my bedroom (my poor pens!) but their chief stays to interrogate me. She’s a blonde woman, tall, extremely beautiful but there’s something cold in her eyes, something not human. I realize in a moment she’s one of the ghosts from the hunted house, and she wants to steal my body and give it to one of her ghosts friends.
Years later I get out of prison. The beautiful blonde chief is waiting for me and we kiss passionately. Am I still me? Am I a ghost? I cannot tell. Flash forward a few more years, I’m on boat on a stormy ocean. The boat sinks and I wash ashore on a beautiful island. I lost my memory.
My alarm rings.
DECADE DREAM JOURNAL 