Tag: nostalgia

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.

0

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.

0

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.

0