And one year later....

Why do I....

Another dream. About flying animals.

I had a strange lucid dream tonight. I's been a long time.
I was in my bed and I have been awaken often. My father brought a parcel, and I saw N** handle it. A small parcel from the UK. When I woke up later, I wondered if I had dreamed this so I watch at my bedside and there was another parcel I was expecting. Between all this, I was dreaming.
The room was exactly alike: My bed against a wall, N**'s bed on my left, against the wall. The window on my right and face to me, on the other wall, a wardrobe. But this time, when I opened the eyes, the wardrobe has disappeared and my mother was in the room, wiping the wall. It stroke me because a part of wallpaper was missing close to the plinth and it is not my father style to do this so I knew it was a dream.
I couldn't get any explanation about the wardrobe. Where was it? Where are the clothes now? Would it stay that way??
My mother was extremely decided but not by her own. As if she did all this with a void energy and someone else commanded to clean all this out. But she was satisfied with the result. N** was on the left side, sitting on her bed, silent. I would say resigned, but it seemed she approved this and she probably took part of the cleaning. All this while I was sleeping.

Something grabbed my attention: a butterfly came around me and as I left the head, I saw several butterflies, all different. They didn't go away whatever the window was open. They remained to the ceiling. I even described some to my mother who eventually disappeared for the rest of the dream.

As I stand up, I realized we could manage the furniture differently since that wardrobe left more space. Besides the wardrobe, there is a library that I turned to 90°.
I started to think about accomodating the desk for N**, but I felt like a gentle slap on the back of my head. Something saying I should deal with my own instead.

So I ended beyond the limit of the room. As if a new little workspace appeared, it looked more like an office with dark plaster ceiling, no lightening. And a light seemed to come from a lo,ely alarm spot. There was a window but it was dark anyway. It was a double walled reinforced glass bay like I knew at school. Usually, glass was sealed with cement. A part of it was broken , as if a square was missing and it allowed me to see that double glass wall with 30 cm in between. I watched there because I heard a she blackbird. It was on its nest and I saw well its eye, it was staring at me without fear while being on its nest, singing. Close to my nose I founded a dead blackbird. A male one. I tried to call someone to show what I founded and heard, but I was alone so I put the dead bird on the edge if the window and I turned back. There was plenty of furniture I didn't know. Modern, half way between office furniture and white plexiglass 60's furniture. Pretty kitsch, but I liked it. My huge metal canteen full of art supplies was there too, not in the room as N** disliked it much and wanted this to leave.

On my left (the actual back of the wardrobe) I saw a square room, a black cube and the switch was not a button, it was a button you can turn each time it was casting a dull light as if you watched diapositives. It irritated me to be unable what was in that room. It was purely aesthetic so I left. Right after this, there was what I first thought to be a cupboard but in fact it was more a tap with a pipe, I left and saw a restroom. N** appeared and opened the door widely to reveal a weird situation: it was a bowl with its seat and cover, but it was like suspended to the ceiling of a machines room or a underground parking lot. The idea to use this feared me so I turned the head and there was a whole serie of cabin: from a simple board with a hole (the old rest room in mine workers houses used to be like this) but no space under to ugly toilets on freeways.

Toilets, toilets... Then I woke up. Guess where I needed to go first??

Some dreams (1)

Dream 1: I am in a corridor and it seems to be a visit because I'm following a guide. The path is round like a snail. There is a dinners room in the center: an empty luxuous restaurant with bright candles reflecting in glasses. Waiters and maître d'hôtel are going on and on. I pass by and the guide lead me to the end of the corridor, in a circular library. Inside, it is full of used books, and a man try to show me something about WW2: sepia pictures of regiments with jeeps crushed by a red triangle from above. But I have difficulties to maintain my attention: the librarian is wearing a "ficelle" wool jacket that my father used to wear when I was little, and huge whiskers, like Nietzshe did.

Dream 2: I was trapped in a bed with unknowns, I was feeling like I was invisible. I woke up several time in that bed and each time, a new person was leaving, both men or women, all unknown. The room was dark, with a window showing foggy weather, outside. My mother was sitten near it, in the darkness of the room. My father was standing at the door on my left, in a clear living room, a television was behind him.
The bed I am in separe them both. It is placed in the path through the door leading outside. I thought it was winter, but when I finaly went outside, it was a mid-summer sky, with a blinding sun. With my bare feet, I felt burning sand in the gutters.

I am not dreaming...

Music stopped...

The tune is rising like hertz waves on a radio tuner, when you need to look for a little while on the left or the right to get the correct signal. The record is collecting all the possible frequency waves in the universe, methodically recording, never loosing cracklings, parasites and imperfections.

I'm standing in a caddy, unworried about the way it moves. I'm travelling in the departments of a supermarket: everything is free for the eyes and ears.
I only watch and when the end of the counter comes, I'm leaded to the next one, collecting the impressions and advertising jingles...

Sometimes, the songs restart in the middle, played in another manner. Someone is switching the buttons and reminds are diluted like in a dream with foggy transitions.
Freescha come along, underline and redesign samples recalling something to my memory. Or maybe it's a part of cliché that fall from the wall of my skull:
A TV broadcast coming soon, a glass of milk on a formica table, my Goldorak jacket...

All the sounds are filling the chambers of my brain. Even through reception is blury, I can hear all the snatches of conversations, the sounds from the right and the left spreading in the place without any structure. It is a recollection of gaseous sound samples mixed in my own organic perception: in the first seconds, sound disappear like in a headphones disfunction. Music brings me exactly where I wanted to go: in a past that has never exist.

I think that something strange happens in the length, because sounds are growing old. It is scary and fascinating: step by step, samples sounds more mature. It's the music my father was listening, screams heard in a movie, some melancholic sounds, some unreleased 70's hits... a record tape remount with adhesive tape.... the stupid song which doesn't exist that I have never forget... a horror movie which I forgot the story and the name.... a biology document.

At night, I was remembering the sample sounds that I stored in my memory all day long. And when the dark was come, when everyone was sleeping, every sounds were dancing in the silence. To sleep was just wait for the next day to steal other new sounds to the universe.

Once again, I am in a supermaket and a Hip-Hop song give the rhythm to a fashion parade seen on a TV screen. Hostess announcements are following special offers, human shouts. So much departments, so much sounds, so much tunes to listen, so much bits to fill with free stuff that can be taken without beeing paid.

And one day, I lost myself, it might happen soon. "What's your name? Come with me, we're going to look for your parents". Since it happened, the snatches that I was collecting with fever became lost pieces of the surrounding chaos. I started to replace these noises by adult screams, conversations, numbers...
I really think that day, in that supermarket, I have lost myself.