February 9, 2008
Queen's birthday
Surely it was not only an honor but a pleasant surprise as well. Who could have ever imagined that I'd be invited to the Queen's birthday?
One can therefore imagine how nervous I felt when the palace door opened and she appeared no more than ten feet away. The one and only Queen Beatrix! She nodded to the crowd and then proceeded up the aisle towards me, shaking each and every hand along the way.
All of sudden she was standing right in front of me. Her famous smile turned into a frown. Her gaze was hard and true. She spoke out angrily so that everyone could hear, "Next time you will have to brush your teeth better, they are awfully brown. Please do something about it."
I had let down the queen.
Posted at 9:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
October 27, 2007
Time to get up
In my dream I rolled over in bed and glanced at the digital alarm clock, seeing that it was ten fifteen and time to get up - don't want to waste a good Saturday by slumbering the time away.
That's when I woke up, rolled over in bed and saw the digital alarm clock snapping from ten fifteen to ten sixteen, deja vu style.
Posted at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
February 16, 2007
Baby in a box
I come home after a long day of work, feeling tired. My wife has a surprise for me. Alright, what kind of surprise could it be? There on the table is a cardboard box and I have to open it, at least that is what my wife wants me to do, all smiling and giggling about things. So when I open it I discover that there is a baby girl inside (oh dear), very cute and adorable, I had always wanted a fifth child but really, this is something I hadn't really expected. But still, life goes on, try to adapt. My wife has to apologize to me, almost in tears, her pregnancy kept hidden because she was so afraid I would get mad at her. Why would I get mad? I would have never minded if I had known about it in advance. How is this possible? I feel angry, frustrated, like nobody understands how I feel or react to the situation, but at the same time I am happy. When I pick up the beautiful child she feels soft, smells clean, and fits into the world as I have envisioned that it should be. A wonder, something that has come to be, and then life goes on as usual. What next?
Posted at 9:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
January 29, 2007
Trip around the world
As things turned out it was to be a trip around the world and when I left I had loads of luggage about ten big heavy bags at least.
After each stop I lost one item of luggage but had to hastily catch the next flight, boat, train or whatever.
In the haste I inevitably lost yet another piece of luggage, but the continuation of the trip took priority meaning that I had to continue with one less item or else.
By the end of this frustrating journey I had but two pieces of luggage left over from the original pile of important items, and even then during the last leg of the journey yet another vital piece was misplaced and or lost.
When I finally arrived back home, I felt relieved not only to be back home in familiar territory but also to be released from all that extra baggage that had been weighting me down.
Finally back home and time to start all over again.
Posted at 7:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
December 8, 2006
Dutch history
Why on earth I was made to attend the Stanford summer school and take a course on Dutch history given in Dutch was beyond me. I felt happy to be back in familiar territory but was not very keen on struggling through difficult material in Dutch of all languages.
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October 9, 2006
Standing there
I walked up the stairs and saw him standing there.
"Hey Lennart, what are you doing here? I thought you were living in LA."
"Yeah, well I just figured I'd drop by and check out the new room you had setup for me when I get back. Just curious is all."
When I turned around again he had disappeared and I felt bad that I hadn't talked with him a little longer.
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August 5, 2006
Hero or not
As it turns out, he wasn't that big bad war hero at all who we had always taken for granted and was based on all those stories which were never told because they were just too painful to discuss. Even if as kids we kept begging him please please tell us more about what had happened, the time you landed on the beach and all those dead and blown-up bodies lying all over the place, what was it like? As far as we were concerned it never happened in the first place, but being part of the family wanting to believe that that was the way it had happened no matter what. Or were we the ones making things up, filling in the gaps and making things up in order to make sense of the way the soldier was or ended up being? In the end it turned out to be a sad case that lead us on, but led us on nonetheless. So it must have meant something in the end, we following as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.
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December 10, 2005
There was this
There was this yelling and cussing and everyone seemed to be hollering at each other without regarding the true condition of the situation in which this sea of voices had unknowingly found itself.
There was this subtle unawareness smothered underneath frustrations and fear and a sharpened readiness to jump at anyone who dared.
There was this inner animalistic attitude that though providing an endless source of energy required for such bizarre and unrestrained motions of flailing arms and legs held each individual firmly in place preventing unnecessary bodily harm.
There was this erratic mindfulness that somehow kept everything in check as if even the slightest imbalance would cause the whole scene to dissolve into nothingness.
There was this.
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September 11, 2005
End of all suffering
There's nothing more exciting in the world than discovering the solution to all human suffering. Not only that but also the fact that because of this historic discovery you will be the richest person on the planet for the rest of your life.
Too bad that when you wake up you forget the solution almost immediately. What a terrible loss to humanity, that's for sure.
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July 24, 2005
When things creak and break
The house in which you are staying is crooked and ready to fall apart with the slightest touch. The wooden floor is tilted and the stairway creaks when you walk upstairs. Each storey higher is tilted even more, and when you walk over to the edge to look out the window, the house sways slightly with each and every step you take. You can feel the unnerving vibrations beneath your feet. Better stay in the center of the room just in case. There's no way you would dare ascend the attic. The bed that you have to sleep in is also slanted to one side and when you lie down it creaks and breaks off. Often objects break off when you touch them or just look at them or just glance in the general direction is all that is needed. These are the drawers which collapse to the floor, here is the door knob that breaks off, over there the bookshelf that tips over, and in the bathroom the sink that cracks open and the shower curtains which rip and tear. You trip over the mess on the floor and the landlord gets all mad and raving at you because you have broken yet another one of his prized possessions. Shame on you! So why does he leave it on the floor or on the stairs in the first place then? This is not important! Even if you are very careful, you inevitably break something else, and the house wavers even more, those terrible vibrations getting more and more powerful...
Posted at 7:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
July 18, 2005
Frozen asleep
I've heard that it does happen to some people once in awhile, but I never expected this terrifying experience to happen to me. Though I can ever so slightly remember similar numbness when I was around ten years old, but nothing as intense as this fleeting episode in the wavering darkness.
You are lying asleep on your back when you awake slightly. You are completely aware of the surroundings and can see the light from the lamp outside reflected across the window as well as the tips of your toes pointing upwards from underneath the sheets. Like a living cadaver but it is not your own body.
Although you are now wide awake you cannot move a single muscle. It is almost as if the brain is disjointed from the physical body. You can feel that there is a body down there but for the life of you, you cannot move it even a single fraction of a millimeter.
There is no movement of the skeletal muscles, nothing, not even a wink of your eye, a shivering sensation along the cortical area, lost and random electricity but that's it.
That's what is so terrifying about it. Until I fell asleep again and then awoke for a second time, this time with all my usual bodily functions having returned to normal. What an odd cycle of awareness that can be returning to life all over again.
At least now I can say that it has also happened to me. I hope it is the last time, but I am a little afraid that the chances of recurrences have increased drastically because of the first time. As if my body is slowly getting used to it and might crave it during the next bout with the borderline rapid eye movements phase. A little bit like a drug addiction punishing me for the past, this or a previous life it does not matter.
Hopefully the next time I should be less terrified, less and less until it seems normal.
Posted at 9:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
June 4, 2005
Long live the queen
While we were getting our house rebuilt, the queen had invited the whole family to stay over at her palace for a couple weeks.
Before I had met her I had despised her as a stuck up pompous person, but during our stay she turned out to be a very cordial and personable hostess.
I also discovered that she was a very intelligent and wise person who through long discussion in front of the royal fireplace made me feel much better about myself and life in general.
When the house was completed and we returned to live in our humble abode, I became a fanatic fan of the royal family, hung up posters and flags all over the place, and taped every single television and radio program on which the queen appeared.
Posted at 10:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
January 27, 2005
Hidden secrets
Whatever it was, the thoughts and emotions had been building up inside of me for years. Hidden experiences and awful secrets that I had not dared to reveal. Not until now for some reason.
It just all came out with crying and angry words of despair.
What these thoughts were exactly at the time is not clear to me. However, the emotions of tragedy were very believable. Even in the waking state they bite strongly within me. But are they real, were they real?
I believe that this has something to do with the recent sixty year commemeration of the liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp. Something on the television, some collective remorse.
Some unconscious element of humanity which is seeded deeply in each and every soul whether we want to admit it or not.
Posted at 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
November 13, 2004
Parasitic movements
This is the dream I had.
While shaving in front of the mirror, I noticed a slight blemish on my left cheekbone just below the eye. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it was a pimple ready to be popped.
I squeezed the pimple as hard as I could between my thumb and
forefinger. Slowly but surely, this tubular thing rose out due to the
pressure. It fell in my palm, and there was this deep hole left in my
face.
This thing made me feel nauseous, and when it started to move I felt
sick. From with the translucent tube there emerged some insect parasite with long feelers and veined wings.
The insect or whatever it was emerged as if from a cocoon, wiggled and flapped its wings around for a bit. When all the gestation tissue and mucous evaporated, it just flew away. Just like that.
I could not believe it that something had been living in my face for so long without me having noticed it earlier.
How long had it been there? What would have happened had I not forced
it out? How did it get there and what was it doing?
Posted at 8:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
October 10, 2004
All over for sure
We were all quite surprised when she started acting that way, as if she had been awakened with new magical powers, to do whatever she wanted as if that was all it were about.
I immediately sensed that there was something wrong, but stared in eager anticipation with the rest of the family who were visiting her on her seventy-ninth birthday. Naïve, prepared and unknowing at the very same time.
So this is what she did.
She swung her coffee cup around and around, making high-angled circles in the air, and then she held it upside down, motionless as if to prove an important point. Not a single drop of the brownish liquid fell from the inverted opening, and failed to stain the carpet waiting for it to happen. The surface of the coffee remained suspended inside of the cup, with little ripples forming as the hand holdng it trembled ever so slightly, those subtle tremors of old age.
Then she picked up the plate with the slice of cake, tossed it onto the air so that it did a double flip, and nonchalantly caught it upright in midair, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. The whole loop-to-loop movement was slowed in time, as if the attenuated gravitational forces of the moon had just then taken over.
When she started to slow down, to stare longingly into the distance, and the tricks became less and less, that is when I knew it. The bleeding in her head had caught up and tightened its grip on a vital convoluted section of the brain matter.
Her face became pale, like a thin layer of ash, and then she closed her eyes. Her skin became yellow and swollen, and she stopped breathing.
At that exact moment, the cup of coffee spilled to the ground, and the slice of cake slid off the edge of the table and landed upside-down on my right shoe.
That is when we knew for sure that it was all over.
Posted at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
June 16, 2004
Old lady with a fishbowl
So I am really sorry that I kicked you so hard in the knee. But please allow me to explain. There was this little old lady sitting right next to you. She had an over-sized fish bowl balanced ever so precariously on her delicate lap. There were even these exotic multi-colored fish swimming around in circles, all excited and nervous. As the train negotiated the curves, the water sloshed back and forth. When we hit the first slight bump and then the second which was a little bit harder, the bowl tipped over towards my side. The fish bowl and all began to tumble to the floor. That's when I jerked awake so I could catch it just in time. My reflexes caused my leg to fling itself upwards and kick you. Sorry about that, I hope you understand.
Posted at 8:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
March 17, 2004
Just past the knee
When he went over to the counter to pick up his assignment, he was a little surprised when told that he was expected to take that plump duck over to the restaurant on the third floor of the fancy hotel. About halfway there, he felt the softness and warmness and had second thoughts. He became quite attached to this little creature and felt no need to bring it any further to its near future execution for the big fat bellies of all those chinamen. Detour to the left and the great escape that would take him away into the eons of time. Through this desert and arid countryside, past a longish mountain range, along the coast and then to a cove of water which bent inwards just past the knee. When the tide came in, the water level rose quickly and he discovered that he and his duck friend were trapped on an island in the middle of the sea, no hope in sight. The duck was getting thinner and thinner and would soon die. Luckily the water receded just enough to provide a shallow entry to these caves. Had to feed the duck just had too. Finally, grass and twigs and a bunch of dried leaves, and that duck just wolfed it all down gulping and gagging and nearly choking to death. How ironic that would be when and if the little skinny shrinking duck would just suffocate under its own greed or get such an extended belly that it would explode. Better keep on moving before it is too late, the guy was thinking.
Posted at 9:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
February 23, 2004
Unawares it happened
When I woke early that morning and abruptly sat up straight in bed, I noticed right away what had happened during my sleep. It was all over the place. On the walls and ceiling, puddles of it on the floor, and splatter marks on the windows. How could something like that have ever happened without me waking up? I should have noticed but I didn't. Instead I was sleeping away in a land of nothingness without a single worry in the world. I could barely step across the room to the door without slipping and sliding across that redness, causing streaks and sliding noises. It smelled acrid, rotten and like a distant rose, all at the same time and after one another. Next time I would pay more attention (I hoped) and be sure that even while I slept I would remain alert at the slightest hint of something happening. Didn't want to waste my life away in a land of slumbering nothingness, now did I?
Posted at 9:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
January 20, 2004
New C.G. Jung page
The C.G. Jung page has been redesigned and it looks really impressive. Just the right balance of colors and graphics that would make even Mr. Jung himself feel very pleased.
Not only is there a good slew of articles and papers, but the discussion forum is also an interesting place to visit.
Among others, you have the following forums from which to choose:
An interesting essay you might like to read is called On Life After Death by C.G. Jung.
Highly recommended, so please visit.
Posted at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
December 21, 2003
Perfect gift idea
So good old Christmas is approaching ever so quickly, and I do not know for the life of me what I may wish for when it comes to telling others what gifts they may give me.
To be honest: I am just not in the holiday mood yet is all. Also, I feel like I do not deserve anything, because I have been a bad person (boy).
All of a sudden out of the blue it hits me. I know "exactly" the perfect most fantastic gift idea imaginable. At the same time, I realize that I am sleeping. This is a real shame, because I also realize in this dream that when I wake up I will completely forget what this great gift idea was.
That is how dreams work alot of the time: you wake up and you forget.
In this dream, I take hold of myself. I grab that imaginary dreaming self that only exists in the subconscious state. I take hold of him by his collar, and I hold him ever so tightly. And then I tell him to concentrate and remember, because it is very important that when I wake up I can tell the others what to buy me.
Just remember, remember, you better remember, alright?
When I wake up (you guessed it) I just forgot, plainly and simply forgot. The funny thing is that I can remember every single detail of that dream, even the feeling of having discovered the most perfect gift idea.
Except the most important aspect of all, what that gift actually is, I have completely forgotten. Right at the tip of my tingling fingers of the mind whatever that could be.
Posted at 8:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
December 3, 2003
Life begging
"Hey I had a weird dream about you last night," Marlies told me this morning when I came down to make my usual coffee and toast.
"Tell me about it," I mumbled while my mind slowly started to wake up.
"I dreamt that you were a beggar," she continued. "You spent whole days in front of the grocery store begging for money."
I grabbed a plate from the cupboard and found the butter.
"Oh, that sounds like an interesting dream." (I wonder what it means.)
So I reached over and grabbed a couple slices of bread, and there was a slight pause as I thought about what Marlies had just told me.
I cleared my throat and asked quite seriously, "Are you sure that was a dream?"
Posted at 11:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
November 29, 2003
Don't forget
There was this guy again and he was saying that you know what there are a number of things that you should not forget. Whatever you do and whatever happens never ever forget these things that I am about to tell you. Listen carefully, very very carefully and do not speak back while I am explaining it. Be silent and absorb the sounds. When he spoke out loud and listed these number of things verbally in a monotone heavy voice and with a stoic expression and hands turning and arms flailing like subtle and undulating waves atop the ocean of awareness, it made perfect sense. Strange that it could but it did. Although it was not in any language with which any of us were familiar, the movements in time were just right to convey the real meaning to all of us standing there in the circle. Actually the number of things were not multiple nor were they disconnected: they were one and the very same thing. The feeling was that yes we would heed to this wise advise, spread out from this inner circle, return to where we had been, and then continue as if nothing had ever really happened. Off we went knowing in sadness and in happiness that we would never see the man nor any of the others again for as long as we lived.
Posted at 11:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
November 13, 2003
Dropping into nowhere
For some very strange reason they were all wearing high-heels which was the last thing I could see as they went down. Zoom in close and then focus sharply on that black tip pointing upward. I could see this very clearly as each and every one of the women dropped over the edge of the high building on which I was standing. Standing and waiting and wondering at the same time. And then I was thinking, "You see this is a dream I am dreaming." What made the whole scene even more bizarre was the fact that they were all dressed up in a backless black satin dress. Like they were leaving some big gala event out the back door and then like a line of lemmings ever so nonchalantly dropping over the edge. They just dropped head first over the edge as if it were the most normal thing in the world. As I knew already that we were situated at least fifty-five stories high, I figured for sure that there was not a chance in the world that even one of these gorgeous female beings would survive. Not a one. What a waste so many young and beautiful women at the prime of their lives just falling out of existence one after the other. Was I the cause of it? The last I saw of each satin dress flapping in the wind was that tip of the high-heel pointing straight up. Like here I am going down and just to be defiant the pointed tip will direct my gazing eye to where they were REALLY headed. Alright for now, see you all later. "Nothing I can do about it." At least that is how I thought at the time, but I could have been wrong.
Posted at 7:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
October 15, 2003
Kidnapped again
"That is when he realized that his friend Bas had been kidnapped. Poor Maarten started to get worried, very worried indeed. When he turned around to look for Bas, that is when the dark mysterious man grabbed him too, pulling him forcefully in the car. The door slammed shut and the tires squealed. There they both were, Bas and himself sitting on the back seat of the old and rusted car. The kidnapper laughing a terrible laugh, speeding away with them both locked inside..."
I could not remember when the last time was that little Maarten had slept in the bed between Thea and me, but it had certainly been at least a couple of years ago. At least that had been the last time he had awakened from a nightmare so startling that he was too scared to remain in his own bed.
In case you don't know, it is always much safer (and more comfortable) sleeping under the warm soft covers in bed between your loving parents.
I kind of liked it too.
Posted at 9:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
June 1, 2003
Climbing to the top
When the young man invited me up to his room, I never expected that it would be so difficult to reach. From one floor to the next it was a labyrinth of hallways, small doors, and holes in the wall that I had to squeeze through, often while crawling on my belly. Each story was reached via a new and challenging way, namely wooden planks on the side upon which to pull myself up, an old rope hanging from the ceiling, and piles of bricks which had been broken out of the walls in order to be able barely to squeeze through to the adjacent chamber. Finally upon almost reaching the very top, I realized I had forgotten some important item required for the meeting and had to make it back all the way down to the bottom floor. Upon which the whole process of struggling, squeezing my body through impossible holes, and maneuvering the bizarre stairwells climbing along the walls started all over again. I must have had to climb up and down about ten times, and the dream probably lasted a good portion of the night, or so it seemed.
Posted at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
May 31, 2003
Purest of rage
Although the door was barely ajar, I was having a heck of a time holding it back. My wife was pounding and pushing with an amazing force, heaving with an animal grunt. Finally I had to give away, she was too strong for me. In the purest of rage that I have ever seen in her bloodshot eyes, she pushed me back with Herculean force and came at me with amazing speed and agility. I had an instant of time to notice her hand raised above my hand, but then in the very same instant it was all over with. With one swoop downward she had thrust the glinting knife deep into my heart.
It's not everyday that you get murdered by your wife.
Posted at 10:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)
May 19, 2003
Climb that tree
So why that beautiful woman lying naked in bed under those silk sheets over there wants to seduce me in the first place is beyond all my possible reasoning. It does not make sense. Just thinking about it makes me nervous, and I certainly do not wish to be unfaithful to my wife. In fact, I kind of feel embarrassed about the whole situation. Am I crazy? Why did I ever come here in the first place anyway?
Now without warning, she throws off the covers and exposes everything for what it is worth. She has beautiful, round breasts, a flat abdomen which tapers away nicely to her bared hips, and she looks very enticing. I am not sure what it is that she expects from me, what I am supposed to do.
Then I discover what it is all about.
Rising high right out from that ever so secret spot between her thighs is a very tall and thick oak tree. This oak tree goes up high into the sky as far as my eyes can see. Even though this is taking place in some bedroom in the middle of nowhere, there is no ceiling, only a blue sky with a few clouds floating around, birds fluttering by.
She is motioning me to come closer, and she explains what it is exactly that I am expected to do. As I approach her, I can now see clearly that the trunk of this massive tree is solidly implanted inside of her womb. The sturdy slab of wood rises from right out of her vagina and curves upward at a sharp angle! What I have to do is simple, though nothing less than precarious.
You see, she expects me to climb that tree for some unknown reason. She motions with her wide-spread hands, her empty palms facing upward, pleading for me to make the journey. Now or never. Fortunately, the branches are pretty evenly spaced apart. They come out at the sides of the trunk at just the right spots so that it is fairly easy for me to reach each rung of this natural wooden ladder with branches and leaves. I grip the lowest branches and raise myself up, higher and higher. The rough bark scrapes my belly and bits and pieces fall off into my hair.
Although this all seems pretty precarious to me, her seductive smile and erotic voice is too much for me to resist. I hope my wife does not mind that I am doing this, but there is no choice right now except to do it. Like it was always meant to be. What would my wife think when I told her that I had climbed this tree? Not your everyday average tree, but one growing out of the vagina of a most enticing seductress naked below me. As I climb higher and higher, I can feel my weight and movements trembling the branches and the leaves ever so slightly. But it will all hold. It will certainly hold pretty well, I am sure. I am rooted to the earth through this woman's womb and it is safe.
How high can I climb? Will this amazingly beautiful woman be able to hold me up and support my weight as I climb higher and higher? The massive piece of wood wavers, but I continue.
I am already nearing the top, and all in just a matter of a few seconds. Time is not important. The essence is time, time which remains motionless. Below me, I can see the whole world continuing as if nothing has changed. No one notices me, though when one thinks about it logically, I should be sticking out and be spotted by the droves of passersby. Hey, look up there! What's that guy doing in that tree? I realize that I am not wearing any clothes, but I am too high up now for any one to notice that I am naked. As naked as I was the day that I was born. Yes, my birth has something to do with all of this, that is clear to me.
Now that I have reached the top, I realize that there is no turning back. I am stuck here forever and will never be able to leave, to climb back down. Why had I let myself be seduced by this mysterious woman? Reaching the top was effortless, though the decision to start climbing was at first a difficult one. Not so much based on reason as some inner emotional calling.
Might as well get used to it now that I am here. I am now enjoying the view and trying to accept all of this for what it is. For what it was always meant to be.
[ » Discuss this dream at the Jung Page Forum ]
Posted at 8:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
April 6, 2003
Like flotsam
I must have been taking my shower for ten minutes when I suddenly realized that the whole bathroom was slowly filling up with water. As a result I was wading around up to my knees which was a strange and unfamiliar feeling. For some reason, the drain had plugged up and the water level had risen to about two feet. The whole surface of water was cluttered with various loose items like flotsam of personal belongings left over after an ocean liner had recently sunk. I dove under the water to see if I could discover what had caused the shower to get all plugged up. Much to my shock and dismay, I discovered a body of a plump and seemingly healthy-looking baby floating face-down near the bottom. Drowned and not breathing and hanging there just above the drain.
Posted at 11:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
March 7, 2003
Hiding the inevitable
So there's this awful looking growth getting bigger and bigger on the inside of my palm just below where the thumb meets the hand, right there at the base. Slowly but surely it has been getting bigger and bigger, swelling like a balloon of mush. In fact, it has gotten so bad the last couple of days that this slit has burst open underneath where the bulge hangs over and keeps oozing out puss. It is so unbelievably itchy that I cannot bear it just wanting to scratch at it scratch it. But I know that I must resist as this will only make it ten times worse, accelerating the process (which is inevitable). I should have never waited this long pretending that it wasn't there. Now it is too late. I will have to tell my wife and kids, but I would rather conceal it because they will only get all worried and upset. Pretty stupid of me. It looks so awful in fact that to be honest it surprises me that they have not noticed it already. How come? I have done an amazingly good job at hiding this monstrosity and pretending that it is not there, quite an accomplishment when you think about it.
Posted at 5:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
January 30, 2003
Oversized shoebox
Of course, you would never expect such a morbid discovery when you are making the bed of your youngest daughter early that morning. Being in a mad rush to get everything done before it is too late does not make matters any better. It was raining pretty hard outside and the wind was blowing if that matters. So what happened exactly? Well, I was straightening out the green covers nice and taut, and I had to slide the bed out from the wall in order to tuck in the covers on that side. As I moved the bed out a ways, this strangely oversized shoebox which had been wedged in there fell hard to the ground making a dismal and muffled thump. The lid popped off and some of the contents spilled out. There was this dangling arm with streaks of blood on it and a smashed-in head of a half-decomposed body, all this greenish mold and oozing substance which had solidified over time. Not the usual adult body that one might expect in these kind of dreamworlds, but rather the thinnish body of a small child, say around five years of age. I recognized immediately who it was, and I did not have to think about what had happened. I woke up with a start. I am still recovering from that episode, that's for sure.
Posted at 5:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
January 26, 2003
Another time and place
The expression she made was not quite out of the ordinary nor was it what one could call exceptional. Glancing ever so slightly to the side it became apparent that there was a deeper meaning behind each and every one of her actions. These actions were normal but in slow motion at the same time. Mysterious and uncertain, reaching out for the unknown and at the same instant a subtle movement of body and skin worth noting. Maybe it would be more convenient to think up something else? That is when I decided that perhaps it would be better during my waking moments to react from within my mind by forming thoughts in order to prevent these dreams from coming back again and again. At least one may influence the subconsciousness easily enough, but can it be done the other way around? The days will be different as they are created from the pseudo-worldly dreams of another time and place.
Posted at 8:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
January 4, 2003
Deja vu but better
Last night I had the most amazing dream you could ever imagine. In this dream I had somehow attained complete and total enlightenment, and I was filled with this perfect happiness. I felt spiritually content in an ultimate way and knew that I had finally found the answer to everything. Every single thing. It was this kind of weird and vague feeling deep down inside of me like I was drowning in an immense ocean of warmth, but it was so convincing and real that I almost felt like never waking up again. As if that were possible. One could say that it was similar to that of an insight of a deja vu but vastly more powerful and engulfing. When I try to reflect back upon the actual contents of this dream, the details escape me completely. To be honest I have absolutely no recollection of the dream except that it happened and that that is how I felt. Too bad these things can only happen in the real world and not in the artificial one in which we all live, if you know what I mean.
Posted at 12:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
December 21, 2002
Strings and threads
Strings, threads, ropes, ribbons, wires, strands and even more. They were all coming out of my body and I was completely entwined in the grand mess of it all. To wake up one morning and discover this again was certainly a lousy way to start yet another day. Disturbing to see all these long and elongated sinews of the mind, which started from inside of my body somewhere and radiated outwards going right through my skin like nothing was going to stop them. This had happened before, and I knew it had to be rectified somehow. During earlier visits to the doctor, I had been warned repeatedly that something had to be done soon or it would be too late. I was so very afraid of surgery, because I was convinced that the chances of something going wrong were high. Or so it was that the aging doctor conveyed to me with his unconcerned and stoic face. Then it would go away for a long time, if I just ignored it, so I felt relieved. This morning as I lay in bed all entwined and worrying not accidentally to tug at the strands and inadvertently pulling off a section of my skin with it, I decided that by not moving at all for let's say three hours or so, it would all just go away. Hopefully, as I lay there waiting, no one would enter the bedroom and discover me in this awkward predicament. I would sure hate it if my children saw me like this. The best thing would be to do nothing and let the passing time take care of things.
Posted at 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
December 9, 2002
You're fired
[Please note that this was a dream and therefore NEVER really happened]
The boss asked me to come into his office again, for the third time that week. I was a little bit nervous, but knew why he wanted to talk to me. I sat down, and when he looked at me with a long a cold stare, I couldn't help but hanging my head low and looking at some slight smudge on the carpet next to his desk. Looked like an old piece of bubble gum that had gotten stuck there somehow, imprints of the carpet and the soul of a show. "So you are at it again are you? You know that..." I could only nod my head up and down like a shy little boy who had been caught again by his menacing elementary school teacher. At the same time I did not care one iota about trying to defend myself, no need to go into details. Call it passivity or whatever you want because I do not care. They always win anyway, they are always right and that is how I felt in my dream. Strange how even in the dreamworld you cannot break out of it, the extensions of the realworld which is supposed to be better. "I thought I had told you quite clearly to stop doing it..." A common problem at work nowadays (in the dreamworld as well as in the realworld) is that employees are becoming less and less productive. Needing escape from the doldrums of company life, these poor souls turn to surfing on the Internet, chatting, emailing and having cyber sex all over the place. But not me, I was different or so I thought. "I am very disappointed in you, there was so much you could have accomplished and you blew it..." I figured in that dreamworld of mine that I would be creative and inspired and therefore productive. Also escaping the so-called doldrums but in a different and better manner, perhaps acceptable in an unacceptable world. Too bad my boss could not distinguish between the noble efforts of my creative work of writing in my blog and the mundane and useless chatting of my fellow colleagues. "I am very sorry to tell you this," the boss told me without really even trying to look sorry. But I knew what he was going to say, so before he finished his sentence I stood up, turned around, and left. Went downstairs and out on the street. Crossed the street and looked back at the big bad successful company I was leaving. Maybe ten stories high or it could have been a hundred, tall windows from the bottom to the top reflecting light. And to think that it was all for some lousy blog of mine. Noble efforts did you say? But it was an addiction of mine, and no one understood, there was no respect for this unknown disease of the mind. Oh well, I was fired, and so what?
Posted at 8:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
November 27, 2002
Grinding teeth at night
One can easily imagine how disheartening it is to wake up in the early morning only to discover that there is blood inside of your mouth. That is exactly what happened to me this morning. I felt some slimy substance sliding around between the inside of my left cheek and my gums, and when I put the tip of my tongue in there, it was clearly the familiar taste of acrid and stale blood. When I spit out this substance, it was reddish in color and looked like pseudo-death. That is a shocking experience to say the least. When you get to be my age, you are constantly on the guard for anomalies, eg. bumps, itchy spots, cramps, headaches, minor heart fibrillations and other potential symptoms and warning signs of some terrible disease which could mean a premature death. How utterly unfair that would be when I still have so much to do in life! Don't want that to happen now, do we? Actually, this bloody episode of the mouth turns out not to be that bad at all, as it is a natural consequence of my night time chewing motions. For a couple of years now I have been grinding my teeth together and thereby chewing the inside of my left cheek, some dreams or whatever causing me to do this. The worse part is that once you start and a slight bump appears, the chances of chewing get even more. As if subconsciously by feeling this growing obstruction you are triggered by nature to bite at it even more. During the day I press my tongue against the long gash inside my mouth which never seems to heal. When I pry open my mouth and peer into the darkened depths to the left, I can see the whitish streak of what appears to be some kind of scar tissue building up. These are the results of grinding teeth at night who have their own lives to live, and there is no stopping them. Unless of course I think up something to stop all of this craziness. What could that be? Swabs of cotton in the side of my mouth, a metal plate affixed to my lower jaw, electrical shocks connected to the chewing motions to wake me up when it happens, shock treatment in general to my frontal lobes, adapting my diet and taking more vitamins, improving my mental frame of mind, adapting the direction I lie down in bed and its orientation to the earth's magnetic fields, removing and/or replacing something under my bed, what else? Actually it does not matter that much, and I do not know why I have spent so much energy detailing this trivial infraction to my nightly slumber which takes me away from all of this.
Posted at 9:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
November 10, 2002
Endless corridors
Walking along the endless hospital corridors, there was no end in sight. Where is it now? Where are we going? What will we see when we get there? As far as the eyes could see, the left and right sides kept converging along with the floor which just recently having been mopped and waxed shone like an elongated dagger at our feet, going off into infinity. This place was huge, like an enclosed city or something underground and very deep. An underground labyrinth. Half way to the center of this planet we call Earth, within the deep-set womb of our only mother, where silence was everything. Lots of doors on the right and just as many (if not exactly the same amount) on the left. A thin line of lights along the exact midpoint of the ceiling sliding past and behind our heads. Perpendicular to the point where the top of my head would have struck the surface had an earthquake caused it to drop down on me. The pointed end of these lights way off in the distance was blurred, but we knew it was out there somewhere. Somewhere and sometime. The further we walked the less familiar it all seemed, although because of the perfect symmetry of the situation nothing really changed visibly. Despite walking for who knows how long, the walls and the floor and the whole imaginary scene had not changed. Had not changed one tiny bit. We were frozen in time and though in constant motion also frozen at the spot where we had begun, or it seemed. We were in a hurry because it was nearly too late. The time was running out. Someone was dying and they had called us up early in the morning to come quickly. Come quickly, please hurry. There was barely enough time left to get out of bed, put on your clothes and dash to the place. How we had found it was not clear, but the energy pulled us to where we had to be. So we let this energy pull us down the endless corridors. They had told us that it would be all over in ten minutes, but certainly we had already been walking (been pulled) down that endless corridor for longer than that? Would we be too late or just in time? There was no definite answer to this except that we had to keep on going since we had gone too far now to turn back. No chance giving up now. Though the urge was certainly there, and this urge to quit was very powerful indeed, it would be senseless if we heeded to it. We would regret it for the rest of our lives, too painful a burden to carry. Imagine that we had taken the wrong turn and we would never arrive in time? We could run, but that would be inappropriate in such a surreal and peaceful surroundings. Too obvious, though no one was around. Not a soul in sight, only elongated and obtuse angles pulling at us, to where we should have been much earlier. Finally to the right, around the corner, leading to the next endless corridor, over there, the same picture, pulling at us to continue. Alright, we are almost there, almost.
Posted at 12:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
November 9, 2002
Cold sweat
No less than three times I woke up with an intense cold sweat in the middle of the night. Not your usual cold sweat, but I was "completely" drenched from head to toe, including my clothes and the sheets. Made my skin all clammy. Very strange experience and one which confuses you the moment you wake up (again) trying to figure things out. My pajama shirt felt like a cold dry rag, and not only did I have to put on a clean dry one, but I also had to walk around the house to try to shake off whatever demons had been haunting me in my sleep. Not true that night sweats only occur to aging women going through menopause, unless I am reliving a previous life as a female in some distant time and place. That could very well be. It is sometimes said that these intense sweating episodes could be related to the neurotransmitter called serotonin, either the release of too much, the inefficient re-uptake mechanisms or a combination of the two. Could even be triggered by an emotional imbalance rising in the depths of the dream world where things are often more real and less repressed than in the real world. Doesn't serotonin also have something to do with depression? That might be. I have not experienced this nocturnal sweating stuff for quite some time now. The last time I think was when I first met Thea and started living in Holland. Not the easiest of times. Back then weeks on end drenching my sleeping attire, the bed and my mind. Night after night. I wonder what causes it. When I wake up, I cannot for the life of me remember what I was dreaming. Something frightening? No I think not. Just an overly frustrating dream with some aggravating twist which I cannot control and have to learn to accept as if that were ever possible.
Posted at 7:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)
November 4, 2002
Important presentation
This morning I was supposed to give an important presentation. However, when I woke up, I realized that for some reason I had completely forgotten about it. Being totally unprepared, it was still necessary for me to accommodate the roomful of spectators I had invited, many of whom had traveled from afar in order to attend my important (perhaps even historical) speech. I was led down the hall by someone who was carrying the agenda rolled up in his fist, until I stood in front of the door with beads of sweat on my forehand. From behind the door, I could hear the buzz of heated conversations echoing inside. All of these educated philosopher-poets who were expectantly awaiting my many words of wisdom and various challenging insights into how it really was or was meant to be. For the life of me, I could not remember what the title of my presentation was nor what it was supposed to be about. No need to worry? I could admit that I had forgotten and was therefore ill-prepared, making a big joke about it before continuing on. Or I could also randomly select some so-called interesting topic as if it somehow was related to the original of which I was unaware. What would be the chances that the two were even remotely related? Or I could just admit the truth seriously, shake my shoulders and run away. Or just faint and hope it all went away. There was no way that I would let them down, my dedicated companions and followers. They were counting on me. I was pretty darn nervous but knew that the show would begin shortly. It would have to be an ad hoc presentation, but I felt confident that I could manage. At least I could always (hopefully) make myself wake up if anything went wrong.
Posted at 11:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
July 18, 2002
Yellow teeth
This is another dream I had. My teeth had become so yellow as overly yellow as could be and they looked terrible. Almost like they were ready to rot away and fall out at any moment. I was extremely conscious about this, as yellow teeth are definitely a serious handicap when it comes to remaining professional and representative in your role in life. Who could take someone with such awful looking yellow teeth really seriously? Still the job had to be done and the deadlines achieved. Follow the leader (the one over there with yellow teeth). I knew that everyone could see it, but there was no use trying to ignore it and hide these yellow fangs by keeping my mouth closed, lips sealed shut. I had to speak, meaning opening my mouth, saying things and even God forbid laughing out loud when required to keep up the team spirit. Laughing out loud with extreme yellowness shining outwards into everyone else's faces. The day's activities must go on, even if it meant forsaking one's teeth and not having enough time left over to brush them three times a day. To think of it, when "was" the last time I had brushed them properly according to the rules? Alright, first the bust schedule for the rest of the day, and then when I got home I would try to reserve some time just before I went to bed to brush my teeth. If I started this evening, brushing and scraping and polishing, then hopefully after a week or so my teeth would start looking more respectable.
Posted at 9:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)
July 14, 2002
Recurring dream
There is this recurring dream I have on occasion where I am sent back to Stanford to complete some unfinished work that I was back then unable to do for one reason or other. There have been periods of my life when this dream comes back regularly, sometimes every single night for a week, and sometimes there are periods of moths or years inbetween in which this theme remains dormant inside of me. In this dream, there is alot of searching for something not quite clearly defined, and the impending deadline to get done whatever it is I have to attain plays an important role. Often I am lost in unfamiliar surroundings and wander from one building to the other. Although in reality I graduated way back in 1979 and officially received a diploma, in the dream there is something which still had to be completed. The weight hangs above my head and is ready to drop. Last night I had this dream again, for the third night in a row. When I wake up I am completly rattled, confused, and it takes me around ten minutes to figure out what is real and what is not real, why I had this dream again and what it means. In this sequel of the dream, I have to arrange for some official papers which have to be picked up at one office on campus and brought to another office to be signed by some counselor who resides in another office on the other side of the campus. Half of my dream is spent finding the first office and I have picked up the papers, but there is little time left. The campus looks similar to when I was a student, but so much has changed just enought that I am lost at each corner of the search. Disorientation and haste are two common themes which define the progress of this dream. Few people can help me as they are also all hurrying down the hill trying to get some similar chore done in time. They whiz by on bikes, run past me and bump into me, zip across my path on skateboards. For all I know there could be some impending nuclear blast and everyone is looking for shelter. The fact that I always wake up before my goal is accomplished is probably one of the main reasons for this dream to come back. Unfinished business, time to get it done or else, come back dream please. So that I have yet another chance to achieve my goal. The only problem though is that the following dream does not continue where the previous dream left off, but because of a slightly different situation I am forced to start anew. Back to the drawing board you might say. Dreams are very interesting in this way, but I would feel relieved if I could break out of this Sisyphean cycle. Just for once get it all done and over with.
Posted at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
April 2, 2002
Strings everywhere
Well, I knew it was about to happen any day now, so in a way I was fully prepared for it and not the least surprised. Everywhere I looked, all I could see were strings. There were strings floating in front of my eyes, there were strings hanging from the sky, and there were strings growing at my feet. A thick carpet would form right before my eyes, getting thicker and thicker. However, no matter how many strings there were, no matter how long I waited, my view was never precluded completely. While my vision lessened, it never reached that limit of being completely filled. Strings, strings and more strings. As I think back upon that moment, I cannot for the life of me recall what color they were, the thickness or their exact composition. They were simply strings. My whole existence, my every turn, my breathing in and out, even the sounds which I could not hear, they were part of the strings, the strings which kept on growing. All the strings growing downwards from the sky especially enraptured me. My own hair became strings, my eyes and ears, the tips of my fingers, stretched out tightly from underneath my fingernails. There were strings coming out of ears, my nostrils, my navel, my penis, my rectum. Every imaginable orifice of my body, including the hair follicles and sweat glands and other cellular fissures defining physical as well as spiritual interfaces. Fortunately, it did not take me very long to get used to this bizarre situation, and before I could realize it I was at perfect peace within this realm of strings. Strings, strings and more strings. This was so much so that as I look back I now miss it very dearly. All those strings were everywhere. The universe is made up of strings, and no matter how small or how large you scale your awareness, down to the size of atoms and quarks or up to the size of whole galaxies, the strings will be found. Just like it is now. Even when you do not choose to look closely at all. I am proud to be a part of the strings everywhere.
Posted at 7:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
March 16, 2002
Crashing into people
I was backing out of the parking spot when someone drove into the side of my car. So I pulled back into the spot and someone else slammed into the other side of my car, this time denting the front bumper. So I then pulled out for the second time and this other person sped in from the left and side-swiped me. The passenger door was bent inwards, and shards of glass flew all over the place. I was relieved that Maarten had decided not to accompany me to do the shopping that afternoon. Now I had no less than three cars wedged in various orientations around me. So I looked to the right, and the only part of the car still exposed received a pounding blow from some massive truck, the driver wearing a tight T-shirt with a cigarette dangling from his lips unshaven, the impact nudging me sideways. I could see those flags which all truck drivers have hanging in their cockpits swaying back and forth because of the impact. This is too much to believe, it cannot be true. I got out of the car. I was a little bit upset, more confused about the whole situation you might say, and I was a little surprised myself that I was not completely angry and infuriated and cussing. Everyone had driven away, I assumed, because there were no more cars around. In fact, the whole parking lot was empty, completely deserted, and it was starting to get dark. I took a quick tour around the car. Strange, it looked just fine now, and there was not a single dent or scratch to be found. In fact, it looked brand-new as if I had just driven it out of the sales lot. The metallic coating shone and looked sharp, the lights from the streets lights reflected almost like the side of my car was moist from the early evening dew. That is when I woke up.
Posted at 5:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
February 18, 2002
Slumbering curlicues
Lately I have been having a slew of frustrating and comical dreams for some reason. Here is a summary of some of these slumbering curlicues:
- I am stuck somewhere faraway in an exotic country, in or near China. The only flight back home takes off once a week. I first have to take the train to get to the airport which is around a thousand miles away. But I do not know where the train station is. Of course, no one can speak a word of English and it is impossible for me to figure out any of their Chinese mutterings and pointing gestures. In the end, I miss the flight back and have to wait yet another week in that country of unfamiliar surroundings.
- I am in a hurry to get to work because I didn't hear the alarm and woke up way too late. Digging through my drawers for a pair of underwear, all I can find are Thea's underwear. One after the other. For each pair of her underwear I throw aside, more appear to collect in a pile in the drawer. Finally in desperation, I figure what the heck and try them on for size. A little tight but they will do for today.
- I have to take an exam tomorrow, but I have not even opened up a single study book. On the one hand, I should cram all night and hope that I can pass the test with some luck. Instead, I choose not to do a single thing! Who cares anyway? I am too old afterall, and I do not feel like letting the world of academia rule my life. A stage in life I have passed long ago, no need to have to relive it again and again. However, even if on the outside I have presented a convincing front of indifference, I am still nervous about it. What will everyone think if I fail this so-called important exam?
Posted at 9:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
February 11, 2002
Chewing meta-candy
I was sitting down on a park bench enjoying the scenery. It was a sunny and crisp late afternoon in early spring. In my lap I had a medium-sized plastic bag of the most exquisite soft pieces of roundish candy that you could have ever imagined. Delicious. What was unbelievably luscious, melting almost instantly under my tongue, after only a couple of simple chewing motions of the jawbone? An unusual taste produced totally and completely seductive, ecstatic electrical activity of the mind.
When I woke up, I could feel the soft object in my mouth stuck on my left side between upper and lower rows of molars. Soft but not sticky as in my dream and the taste reminded me of plastic or glue or some kind of wax-like substance. Clenched in my left hand was an earplug, coming more than likely from, having popped out of, one of my recently slumbering ears. As I could then hear perfectly well through both ears, I gathered that the other earplug had dropped out also. Think and think. That object in my mouth was that very same earplug, a pinkish and malleable substance of round wax I was at that very moment chewing on.
Dreams can be very strange at times, especially when the spiritual thoughts of movement are matched in sync with the less real bodily motions. Dreaming about meta-candy and chewing on it at the same time, whatever earthly substance out of which it had been made.
Posted at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
January 27, 2002
Paint-blotched jogging pants
There I was standing in front of the crowd giving my presentation. The public consisted of the most important customers who were all candidates to be a partner of my company. My job was to blow them away with a fantastic presentation and in the end make them all come running to me to announce that they too would like to join the partner program. Everyone was watching me closely, and I was doing pretty well. First our company strategy and our unique approach in breaking open the lucrative market of mobile telecommunications...
You can imagine my dismay when I glanced down and noticed that I was still wearing my old jogging pants. I had been painting the new room we were building above the garage, and I had spent the day sandpapering and then painting the walls and ceiling with my jogging pants on. They were blotched with white paint and they sagged below my waist. In my haste to get to the presentation that evening at the last minute, I had completely forgotten to change my pants. Oh dear. Quite a unique combination I must admit: suit and tie and jogging pants underneath.
The worst part of it all was that the elastic strip around the waste had broken which caused my pants to hang low so that my behind was exposed. Nice white underwear would be visible if I turned around. Better not do that. Fortunately I had been trained well and through experience knew that one should never turn one's back to the audience while giving a presentation.
Funny thing was that none of the so-called important customers seemed to notice. Or did they? Maybe they did not want to embarrass me. Or perhaps my presentation was so inspirational and moving that not a single spectator noticed the slight detail. Paint-blotched jogging pants.
That's about all that I can remember. Dreams are known to mess you up while you sleep, but at the same time they make you aware of certain stranger-than-normal aspects of your personality.
Next Wednesday I will certainly be on guard. My presentation will come from my heart and there will be no need to play an act and hide from them the true person who I really am. Even if it means I wear my jogging pants to relax.
Just relax.
Posted at 5:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)
October 1, 2001
Endless hallways
 Endless hallways... |
Posted at 3:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
September 11, 2001
Another bizarre dream
I had another bizarre dream last night. This dream was more than likely triggered subconsciously by an email from my mother in which she discussed some entries my father had written in his war diary. This is how the dream went, or at least the parts I can still remember while in this (more limited) awakened state:
"My father is about to die and he is lying in bed in my old bedroom where I grew up. He does not look as bad as when I really saw him during those final days on his death bed last year. His face is more similar to when I last visited two years ago. In tears and sobbing, my poor father confesses to me that all those stories he told me about his war experiences are fabricated, that he had been lying to me. He had never been in the Pacific during WWII on the USS Meade, all of it having been an elaborate fabrication. Why? Because he had wanted so dearly to fullfill his image to me as a father figure hero personality. In the dream, I was not only shocked but very very upset. However, because he is dying and it is probably the last time I will see him, I cover up my distress, comforting him that it does not really matter. I am pleased he has confessed this to me and he should feel better about releasing all these pent-up guilt feelings. At least we will be able to depart by having been cleansed from the past."
What does this all mean? Not that I have never trusted my father or suspected him of lying. I think this dream represents a subconscious manifestation of the gut-feeling I still have: that while he is logically no longer present in any physical sense, I still have not completely accepted it on an emotional level. Almost, but not yet completely. That is the lie within me which is slowly fading away, and the dream is a tool to help me deal with it better.
Posted at 1:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)
