I have a recurrent dream (those you have at night, that is) that I am back in high school. There's just something I have to finish there; a course, an assignment. Whatever. The little visit I pay there in my dream is, without exception, angst-ridden; I wake up sweaty and think back on the bad high school years I did have in real life. High school sucked (luckily, for me, I was buried in books at the time - books I was far too immature to understand). In the dream, my old high school is a ghostly place, there are loads of faces I don't know and there are some that I know. The place is dark, even though the dream does not take place at night. Endless brown corridors. The high ceiling. Mostly, there is a lot of empty space, but suddenly there's an occasional, bustling crowd that passes me by. Somewhere, a door slams. I know I shouldn't be there and it's embassaring, but, for some reason, there is something I have to do.
Lately, there has been a new twist in this dream. I visit my old high school. The school is (also IRL) sharing its logistics with the school of commerce. In the dream, I stroll to a student café at the basement of the school of commerce. It's not clear why I go there, but that's where my steps are directed. The place is cosy, the café looks like a bar. A few students drop in, and I start chatting with them. I feel a bit awkward - what am I doing there? - but it's all right. I meet some old classmates, or, at least, I think it is them (they are all called Linda, anyway). We do shots. The shots taste like water.
The business-related accident with my foot has obviously fucked up my mind. I'm trying to cope by drinking coffee, listening to Billie Holiday & reading some good ol' Norman Malcolm.
No comments:
Post a Comment