The old house again

In the old house again, with an old man, packing things up. For once it was easy, most things were already packed neatly away. I was putting several pillows into a large bag. There was a sense of completion.

Bleak and hopeless fragments

I've had a few dreams I've avoided describing. Some I can still remember parts of, one I made deliberate efforts to not remember. In one dream two young princes were killed, the mood was bleak. In another one person was attacking another by stabbing him with tiny pieces of wood pulled off the door-frame of the small room they were in. The wounds were superficial but painful. The one who was being attacked had a look of shock and horror. All I have left of the one I made an effort to forget is a mood of flat hopelessness.

Struggling to wake up

I was at a conference in a hotel. I'd over-slept and was struggling to wake up. I kept slipping back into a dream. I knew I was late for the day's events but I couldn't get myself up and ready. After I eventually got out of bed I couldn't find my toiletries bag and then in the bathroom I wasn't able to close the door. I kept trying to prepare for the day but wasn't able to, it was all too much effort, I couldn't get things to work and I just wanted to go back to sleep.

The old house

I went back to the old house. I hope for the last time. It was a mess. I spent some time picking things up, looking at them, dropping them again. Outside I remarked to someone that I wished it could all just be got rid of, there was nothing there of any use to me any more.  

The bar

I heard a rumour that David Bowie was going to play at a local bar so I went down there, thinking that, even though it was unlikely, at least it would be easy to get home again. I had a couple of drinks and then he did indeed appear but performed just two songs, which was disappointing. I decided to rest before going home and found a quilt behind the bar to curl up under. On waking I found that there was a rather sleepily affectionate androgynous stranger also there. I picked up my keys and bag from the bar intending to go home.

A journey

I'm in a car being driven by an older man. When we arrive at our destination it becomes clear that he is confused, sometimes wandering aimlessly and sometimes stopping and staring off into space. Someone shows us photographs and in them I recognise myself but I'm much younger, in my twenties, sitting in an up-market looking restaurant, with a hairstyle I hardly recall. I look confident and a little detached. I look through the photographs with the man, but neither of us make any comment on them. We go out walking and he wants to go onto the beach for the cool breeze but I want to go home, it's starting to get dark. I try to persuade him that it's time to go but I can't make him understand. Later, on the journey home, he stops the car, no longer sure how to continue. I find myself walking home and I think that it will give me the chance to post a parcel, a gift I've been meaning to send, but then I realise I don't have it with me, I must have left it somewhere. The overall feel of the dream is of confusion, loss, disjointedness.

Unpredictable

There are a group of us, in some kind of vehicle. A man joins us who seems rather disturbed and unpredictable. We don't do anything to antagonise him but I whisper to one of the others that I will not allow the man to come home with us. There is a sense of having drawn a line, set a boundary.