Recurring Dreams

Since January, there have been seve­ral dis­tinct motifs that make it into most of my remem­be­red dreams. These are my brother, Europe/air tra­vel (and its frus­tra­tions), sub­ways, villains, school, and a large, some­ti­mes laby­rinthine house.

Last night, for ins­tance, I was in Paris with my brother, and we were both pre­pa­ring to fly back to the US. He retur­ned a day before I did, and when it was my time to leave, I found that I had simply far too much stuff to pack before my flight, piles of boxes lit­te­ring the house I’d been sta­ying in. It was more like moving.

Other times, that large house is fea­tu­red pro­mi­nently. I wan­der through it aim­lessly; it is usually very late at night, almost dawn. Peo­ple are scat­te­red among the rooms, some­ti­mes slee­ping, some­ti­mes sit­ting in cram­ped, win­ding stair­ca­ses, and there are large, semi-circular bal­co­nies that look down upon spa­cious foyers.

The sub­ways are com­plex, obli­que, and almost ride-like, simi­lar to the Down­town Cros­sing T stop. The villains are face­less and their threats are vague.

It’s just new to me to keep revi­si­ting the same fic­tio­nal places.

Sum­mer drink: two ice cubes, vodka, spar­kling gra­pe­fruit juice, splash of cran­berry. It’s pink.