Tag: rivers

Walk and Show and a lil Panic

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

There is a toddler −maybe my little sister?− that keeps jumping in my arms from great heights, first from a tree, then from the stairs of a big marble statue. It’s so dangerous and I’m afraid I’m not gonna catch her next time.

My cousin and I are going to see a StarKid show in town, and it’s already my second time because I love it so much, even though I feel incredibly guilty about the crowd gathering in the theater. Not many people are paying attention though, I’m literally the only one cheering and clapping at the stage. A girl is listening to music too loudly and I can’t remember how to say to lower the volume in Japanese; eventually my cousin drags her away and I go sit in the first row. At the end of the show Lauren Lopez comes down the stage and kisses me on the cheek, “Thank you, Lauren” I say, breathless.

I tell my cousin I don’t need a ride home and I’ll just walk, but of course I get lost. I meet an old schoolmate, S., and ask her the way. She points to a tiny alley going down two rows of old stone houses, and I immediately know there are gonna be dogs behind the gates: since I’m terrified of dogs barking at me up close, I go looking for another way. I end up looking at a river banks, the stone buildings and the people playing on the sand are bathed in afternoon sunlight. Again, I feel bad about the crowd, but it’s all so beautiful I decide to take a picture and brag about it on social media.

I look in my pocket and I find a slim white watch. It’s not mine. In the other pocket there is a phone, old and broken and again, not mine. I run back hoping I just forgot my actual phone at the theater, but I’m panicking so badly that I wake up.

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An Unlucky Trip

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

There’s a young woman walking on a frozen river. She is holding a wrapped box, inside there is a chocolate heart. A group of guys have ruined the heart, walked over it and left a big footprint. Now they’re sitting in their car, which is also on the frozen river, and mocking her.

The woman smiles at them, open the box and eats a piece of the chocolate heart with the footprint on it. She offers them a bite too, and there’s an evil glint in her eyes. They look scared now.

A customer at the store has refused to pay me 15 bucks. I go to her house, sit in her living room, drink a tea with her and explain that she’s stealing those money from my paycheck. She’s very sorry about it, she doesn’t have any money but offers me a tube of toothpaste and a big honey jar instead. Later that night, my boss sees the honey on her desk and is very impressed: it’s apparently super expensive.

I’m at home but it’s not my IRL home, the tiles in the bathroom are dark and the toilet is bright yellow, with a big splash of water coming from the side and landing gracefully inside the hole.

I leave for work, drive for a bit but then remember I don’t have a license and switch to a bicycle. Once arrived, my cousin invites me to come along for a trip with her friends. I accept, but not very enthusiastically.

We visit a city in Tuscany where it’s pouring rain, I have a big umbrella with me but it’s broken. We go to the train station in the evening, but we’ve already ran out of money and all the trains have been cancelled. We have to wait for someone to collect us, and eventually end up in front of a police captain: she’s sitting behind her desk sipping a glass of red wine, has Jessica Fletcher hair and a really rude attitude.

(Photo by Ugo ° on Unsplash)

One of the girls in the group asks me if I slept at all, because we (platonically) shared a bed and she says I elbowed her all night. I say I definitely slept, and to prove it I tell her what I dreamed about:

Rebel Wilson gave me some toothpaste and a jar of honey.

I decide to go back home, because I don’t want to miss any more work. And just like that I’m sitting on my parents’ living room floor; they haven’t noticed me yet.

My uncle D. rings the doorbell, I open the door and see him in the hallway, standing next to a short man with glasses. He’s our trip organizer, I’m furious with him because we finished all the money on our first day! He promises his math was sound, takes out a beautiful artbook and start scribbling numbers on the illustrated pages with two brush pens, one black and one white, but he’s pressing too hard and ruining the nips. I get even angrier because he’s spending money on expensive stationary without even knowing how to use it.

My alarm rings as I’m still yelling at him.

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