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.