Schule und Träume
Jan. 16th, 2025 06:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lantairvleaMixed dreams the night before last. In a classroom, trying to discretely put a dress on. The teacher had a movie playing. There was an old Mo opoly boardgame on the. ground.
Two people stood in a corner, One hand on the shoulder, the other gripping each other's forearms. One of the people had slit pupils that contracted sharply a d then suddenly they were somewhere else. An alternate world. Not the right one. They did it again and they were little paper cut-out characters, moving about upright on a table. They had jumped realities and moved their consciousness into the space where the story was being laid out and told by someone else.
There was mention of a dead body, but no one could tell where it was and I guess they were trying to find out from the "author" of it.
Last night was more coherent dreaming. Olga was there. I haven't seen or heard from her in years. Dream Olga looked exactly the same, hair in a hundred tiny braids tucked in a floppy knit cap with Jamaican colors. She was still going to Gymnasium Oomar, which reality math says no, because it's been over 20 years, but such is dream logic.
There were other things that are fuzzy now, but that's okay. As usual, if I start writing dreams they become more memorable.
Two people stood in a corner, One hand on the shoulder, the other gripping each other's forearms. One of the people had slit pupils that contracted sharply a d then suddenly they were somewhere else. An alternate world. Not the right one. They did it again and they were little paper cut-out characters, moving about upright on a table. They had jumped realities and moved their consciousness into the space where the story was being laid out and told by someone else.
There was mention of a dead body, but no one could tell where it was and I guess they were trying to find out from the "author" of it.
Last night was more coherent dreaming. Olga was there. I haven't seen or heard from her in years. Dream Olga looked exactly the same, hair in a hundred tiny braids tucked in a floppy knit cap with Jamaican colors. She was still going to Gymnasium Oomar, which reality math says no, because it's been over 20 years, but such is dream logic.
There were other things that are fuzzy now, but that's okay. As usual, if I start writing dreams they become more memorable.
