I enter a room and see a door with a velvet drape covering the opening. I go past it and enter an outdoor aread where several dozens of people are dressed up in black leather wear with ornate decorations. They are LARPing. I am walking along a small path. I look to my left and see one role-player levitating above another one so that both people are lying parallel but one is floating in the air. I am amazed at how skilled these role-players are. The rest of the leather gang are engaged in a battle and they seem to ignore me as I walk past them into another group of LARPing people. One man is charging at another one and is rushing past me with some type of spear or sword in his fist. This other group is equally large and is dressed in more medieval type of garments. They seem regal and do not appear to be doing anything out of the ordinary.

While awake...

Many curtsies to David for adding Luminous Dreams to his impressive dream site. Patience is a virtue - perhaps after all.

I strongly recommend this amusing and surreal dream journal. And I thought I had strange dreams...

I always wonder how things work and
it sometimes makes me tremble , tremble.

While awake...

Much alike a dream.
Perhaps a star?

I am biking along a road at night time. It is war and I am amidst a terrain where innumerable parachuters are landing. I look up and see them as grey round shapes slowly lowering toward the ground. I hear thumps as they land some 100 yards away, and I also hear voices. They try to locate each other. I continue along the road. Now I am driving a car on an icy road. I am driving fast and am almost incapable of controlling my car. I approach a curve and I see a grey mash of ice covering the road, and on the road dozens of parachuters are in the process of collecting themselves after the jump. I have to figure out a way to avoid colliding into them. I manage to steer in between two groups of soldiers. The way I am heading is straight into the war zone.

I am in my grandmother's bedroom. A window is open and I climb out through the window and walk along the small grassy path near the wall of the house.

I am sitting in the backseat of a car. I am driving together with two or three friends and a man whom I vaguely knew a long time ago. We are driving in the small town near my home village. We are on our way to see a stage play that I know this man is involved in. We arrive at the theatre and park on the right-hand side. I sit on the right-hand side in the back of the car. The man parks so close to the curb that I have to get out on the left side and I crawl my way out. We walk up a small hill toward the theatre building and it is evening. The man smokes. I ask him if he still smokes as much as he used to. He admits that he is still battling with this bad habit and that he cannot seem to get rid of it. I am trying to small talk as I am surprised at how sincere his answer is. We arrive at the theatre and I see that there are larger tables with a dozen or so chairs around them. The play will take place around the group of tables instead of on a play. I see several pieces of stage equipment set up in each corner of the big hall. On each table is a candle and a microphone. They are going to record the play and also record the reactions of the audience. The man who drove us here sees some of the theatre people and goes off to help them with a task. I talk to A.G. who is there and I point out the microphones to her. We conclude that we have to be careful about what we talk about at the table since it will be recorded. I guess they want to record the laughs. I let her know that I am going to use the restroom, I need to wash my hands I say. I walk off toward the restrooms and have to look for the ladies' room for awhile. When I enter it I do not see any toilet seats but instead a huge room with plenty of make-up boxes and lavatories. In through another door a man walks and he doesn't seem to be intimidated at all. In fact I think he just goes ahead and uses the restroom because he disappears somewhere. I wash my hands but the water does not feel wet. A.G. is now with me and we talk for a little bit as I dry my hands. It is indeed strange that the restroom looks so open. Where are the toilet seats?

While awake...

To speak what others have spoken
will give your tongue a new mouth to rest in.

I see a map of a part of my homevilllage. The map is covered by forest and small lines that represent roads. It is the part toward the camping village near the lake. I am studying the map as if above it and I see many small forest dirt roads and I am trying to locate one specific road as I am about to drive along it together with A. I continue to locate myself and I see a huge freeway in light green cross the map from north east to south west. That is so weird I think. Do they have a two way freeway over there nowadays? It doesn't seem right. The colors of the map are in different shades of green. It really looks as if it is a mixture between reality seen from above and a map on paper.

Now I am standing or sitting in a car near a dirt road. One of my grandmother's old friends, D, is standing there. She has just emerged from within the forest. We might have driven along the dirt road for some time.

Now I am emerging from a forest road and am walking into a habited area. Here are low buildings and it is evening and twilight. Few people are about and as I walk nearby one building I see a man. I don't know him and I wonder whether I should talk to him or not. He might be dangerous. He is very tall and he has distinctively light red hair and he wears a moustache and perhaps a beard. He wears a jacket and otherwise outdoor-like clothing. He is now very close to me and we pass each other. I speak to him, perhaps to ask for direction, a little bit against my own will, as if my body just directs me when my mind has said no. He answers me and continues.

Later on I am reading my own journal and I see that a long time ago I wrote an entry where I predicted that I would meet a man with red hair and a moustache. I have even drawn a picture of the facial hair that the man wears. For some reason this seems profoundly special and I cannot really understand how I could have predicted this happening. It is as if I am someone else and this other woman is reading the book and telling me all this, while I am sitting by her side and looking at the pictures. We are both quite amused and awed by the accuracy of the prediction.

I am in Paris with my family. My family is my husband and two little children. We are walking around in a museum or old building that is owned by a wealthy old woman. We hope to be able to live in one part of the building. The first night we spend in a small apartment in the building but for some reason we think we should have a larger space to live in. The next morning we walk around and inspect the rest of the house. It is all built in the late 1900s and it is very spacious and elegant with dark and earthly colors. We meet with the woman/people who own the house. We walk through a small inner courtyard that looks very French. I am not sure if the owner looks down upon us or if she is our friend. We might have more children than the two little ones because I remember that we talk about how many bed spaces we need and I have a feeling it is more than ten. I walk around in clothes from the 20s or 30s and we enter an elevator to go up to the next floor. I am not my own self but I am the mother of the family.

The fire department in my home village has set up a party and everyone is invited. They have set up long tables and perhaps a stage on the yard of a house nearby my grandmother's house. I am on my way home as I notice the party and I stop by. I look at the firemen to see whom I recognize. I know that there might be faces that I recognize and would like to talk to. I only see older firemen and so I decide to go home. When I am at home I try to look up the name of one fireman's father in the phone book so I can call his son and say hello.

While awake...

Take a walk IN your sleep.
Escape INto an enchanted world.
Or have you resorted to blend IN?
If not, assimilate !

I am a teacher. I am about to begin or end a lesson and I see my old English teacher nearby. He is about to begin his own day and is gathering a bunch of students for a common activity. I join them. We all stand in a circle on my grandmother's lawn. There must be about 30 of us. I recognize some of the students as my old classmates from years ago, while others are strangers or new students. My old English teacher starts a song/rhythmic verse that everyone says together. It carries the message of how we all are individuals and that we accept who we are. I think this is quite extraordinary. I realize most of these kids are teenagers and that it must be tough to get them to gather and sing this together. Everyone will get a turn to sing solo and do a personal dance or move. I am trying to learn the lyrics since they are completely new to me. I move my lips and in the chorus I sing out loud. I look around and smile at the vividness of it all. I see how and old classmate of mine dances a very hip dance while he is singing his solo. I laugh out loud in cheer when he attempts to break dance. I hope no one will mind. We are all holding hands while singing and I am thinking that my English teacher certainly knows how to bring students together in a nice way.

I am wearing a bathrobe that is untied. It is chilly outside and I am standing on a shore. An older man approaches me and sees me wade in the shallow water. He says he thinks the water is cold. I do not think so, but I am a little surprised that I don't feel cold. I am naked underneath the bathrobe. It is fall or winter. The shallow waves crashing against my legs do not even feel like water. The water is gray and clear. Some friends are approaching now, and I hear them talking as they walk toward me. Now
I am running on sand dunes. Some other people are following me, we are friends. Now the beach turns to a winter landscape and I am running in snow. A man is following me. I feel joy. We run as fast as we can, side by side. I run with ease and I can slow down and increase my speed at will.

I work in a bar and my day is over. It is late and I decide to stay over night in a room upstairs. I know that someone is waiting for me there but I cannot be absolutely sure. As I walk in to the room it is very dark in there. I see that the balcony door is slightly open and I have a feeling that someone is waiting out there. I might be aware that I am dreaming. I walk slowly toward the balcony door and as I am about to walk out on the balcony I wonder if I am in danger. I decide to not be afraid and instead I want to see the face of my visitor as clearly as possible. I do. I see this person so clearly that I am aware that I am dreaming. We embrace. I feel very grateful and surprised. There is a painting standing on a wooden frame holder. I do not see what the painting depicts. I only see it from behind.

On the way home from downtown L.A. I walk toward a bus stop. As I am trying to cross a busy street I see a man arriving on his bicycle, jump off it whilst still in motion, lock it, and send it rolling upright across the still busy street to a small empty spot where other bicycles are parked. Quite impressive. I see a bus stop but have to cross yet another street in order to access it. When finally there I ask someone how soon the next bus will arrive. A woman tells me I will probably have to wait around 90 min. When she says that I have problem understanding what that really implicates. It seems like a very long time to me. Someone else asks if there aren't any buses that will stop in the meantime, that could take us at least a little closer to our destination.

While awake...

For those who love stories .
For those who love .
For those who .
For those .
For .

I am walking around in a bazaar. I stop at a booth run by a Russian couple. They sell colorful clothes and shoes that aren't of very good quality but some items do seem quaint and fun. I look at a pair of slippers and I wonder who would wear them and when. I continue to another booth. Now I am browsing through Renaissance clothes on a rack. I can only see peasant dresses for women. I try to look for a national costume but cannot find one. I would like to dress more noble.

Now I am walking down a hallway. I am holding something and am looking for a particular room. I walk into a restroom and notice that it is connected to another room where some people are holding a meeting. I apologize and go back to the restroom and out the door I came through. The restroom has light wooden panels on the wall and everything looks very modern. I see some other people in the hallway but otherwise I am here alone. I might be on my way to a night club or something.

I see D. We talk to each other. I cannot remember about what.

I am getting ready to go to upper secondary school. I am trying on different clothes in my old room at home. After various combinations of all kinds of nice and less nice looking clothes, I decide for a combination with pants, a button down shirt and a scarf. This whole ordeal is very frustrating and I cannot seem to decide what I want to wear. I do not have much time on hand before I have to leave for class. The clothes I am wearing are from the U.S.

Now I am walking around a huge estate together with someone. I think it is Arnold Schwartzenegger's and his wife's home. His wife has some kind of essential oil and candle product line and they often use their home in info-mercials. I walk into their bedroom. It is light and huge. Along one of the walls I see shelves filled with scented candles and products in pastel colors. The candles are set in clear glass jars and everything is very color coordinated and Martha Stewart like. I see their bed and work-out station nearby. Everything is in soft white and there are even cushion like rugs on the floor. I continue to walk around the house and come to an entrance hall that has a view of several floors inside the building. I see a bathroom with an impressive view of the garden. I am walking outside the building from the back toward the front. There is ivy clinging to the wall in extremely perfect formations. It is almost as if the plants have been sprayed with glue to stay in a perfectly beautiful position. There are small ledges here and there on the wall and these plants create a very organic and pretty appearance to the otherwise white walls of the outside of the house. I think there is a movie theater in the house as well.

Now I am in some type of courtyard that serves as a pub and a movie theater. I am sitting down at a round table and notice that some girls I knew years ago are sitting there. I am aware that I am wearing nice looking clothes and I notice that my second cousin is checking out my Ralph Lauren jeans. I feel very accepted at the moment, almost admired. Almost to the point of resentment.

Now I am standing up and I walk up to a doorway to a small room where a group of people are watching a horror/sci-fi movie. I also see some sci-fi posters that someone is holding. Some people are driving by in an old car and the car is creating a huge cloud of exhaust. Or it might be a group of people smoking all at once and creating a cloud of fume…

Now I am standing on a plain. A road is leading through the plain. People are seen scattered here and there. I do not really recognize any of them but after a while I do see similarities between some of them. In fact, I soon begin to notice/realize that some of these people here are one and the same person - only from a different time. So here I see a small boy and a young man and they are the same person. I see other people, sometimes up to three individuals, that I know are the same person but from a different time in their lives. For some odd reason I have encountered people who have encountered themselves at another age. Strange but fascinating to observe. Some of the people see each other and stand next to the other self, and sometime the person has changed quite a lot from when he/she was a child to when he/she is grown up. I mostly see men. There must be some kind of time distortion.

I see a performance artist who is going to perform a most strange act; he will let an enormous snake eat him and let him pass through the snake and appear unharmed from the rectum of the snake! I watch as it happens.

I am walking along the forest road to my parents' house. Between the trees I see the front yard as I am approaching the hill right nearby the house. I see a sheep hung by its head through the loop of one of the rings of the playground rings. It seems lifeless as it swings back and forth. I am thinking that it probably has broken its neck. It does look very odd as it dangles there. Then I notice that my parents' arrive in their car and they see the sheep as well. I notice that the sheep actually is a very lifelike costume and that my sister is inside of it. She is very much alive and she tells my mother: 'Oh don't worry, it's one of those costumes which makes it impossible for you to break your neck!' She lets herself down and jumps around with the sheep head folded down her back so that she is still in her sheep costume but her own head is bared.
Now I see both my sisters crawl up on the rooftop and they seem totally unafraid of what they are doing. I worry that they will slip and fall to a sure death. They sit on the upside-down V-shape of the roof for a while. One of my sisters in sheep costume and the other one in regular clothing. I am wondering how they avoid the slippery metal roof…

I am walking along a bleak and dusty dirt road in a sundrenched desert. My black shoes are covered with yellow fine powdered dust. I try to walk carefully so they won't become even more dusty. Two friends walk beside me. We approach a small ghost town that remind me of a town from a western movie. As we get closer I see a cluster of wooden houses. A door to one house is open. It is a store filled with handcrafted clay products, candles, and incense. I enter the store. There is a young man with light hair - he owns the store. I look at an incense burner and he explains how it works. I feel that I have to buy something but I cannot really find anything I like. I look at the price tag of each item I pick up. On the counter nearby I see a stack of invitations to a party tonight. I really want to go to this party and I want this man to invite me to go with him. I pick up a small white and blue porcelain samovar that I like. The metal piece that protect the opening is a little tilted and loose and I tell the man that I would be interested in this samovar if the metal piece was not loose. It costs ten dollars. He holds the samovar and inspects it. Then he looks at me and says: ' I can have it fixed for you, but not until tomorrow.' This means that I will have to stay! I tell him I do not really have any place to stay and he suggests I can stay there until the next morning.

While awake…

I look out the dirty window and there is a desert landscape stretching out until the horizon takes over. I see the dirt road that lead me here. It is a bit squiggly but I can see a great length of it. I wonder why he lives here. There is nothing here. But the door was open and I walked in. My friends must have continued and are perhaps on their way out of the town on the other side and have now entered a new desert and a new dusty dirt road. I ask the man why he lives here. 'I was born here', he says. I ask him if he has ever lived somewhere else. He says that he has.
'I have lived in great cities, just like you, where people tell you what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. But I came back to live here. I walked away from the big city until the paved road turned to a small dusty dirt road. I continued to walk until green lawns and trees where exchanged for withered brush and sage, and my legs got tired, but I continued to walk. I was very tired and I had walked for days or weeks and had lost track of time. I wanted to turn back to the city, it cannot be as awful as this desert I thought. But by now I was so tired and hungry that I had lost track of time and direction, and I did not remember in which direction the big city was. So I stumbled on with my eyes lowered so that the only thing I saw were my torn shoes and the filth of the road. Then, when my legs no longer held me up, but forced me down on my knees, did I look up. I saw this house that I now live in. It was once my home. It became my home again and this is where my freedom is.'
We stand by the window and he has put his hand on my shoulder. 'But there is nothing here.' I say, as I look out over the vast desert that spreads out in front of us. 'Freedom is here.' he answers. 'My friends did not come in.' I say. 'I wonder where they are.' The door had just been cracked open so much that I caught a glimpse of a room filled with intricate objects and a kind stranger. 'I saw your friends as they walked past.' he says. 'Perhaps they did not see what you saw? Perhaps they did not see a town at all?' I wonder how that could be, and I wonder if it could be true. I am standing with a stranger. I have just arrived from a long journey but I cannot remember where it began. I cannot remember where I came from. He whispers into my ear: 'Perhaps you saw this house because it was your freedom? Might you have stopped because you found your freedom? They have yet to find theirs so they will continue.' I knew that he would invite me to the party.

A. is standing on top of a high rise building. He is balancing on the rooftop on the very edge of it and I am watching him from behind. I am standing on a grassy hill or elevation some hundred yards away but I have a clear sight of it all and I see a city landscape in front of me. On the other side of the gap, which is opening up in front of A. as if it was a street, I see a kindergarten student and his dad. They stand there hand in hand. I am watching A. as he is barely maintaining his balance on the edge of the rooftop. I am standing on the grassy hill with someone who wonders if I am not worried or anxious. I do not feel overly anxious. I watch A. and see that he now is almost bent over the edge and for a moment I wonder if he will fall. He does not. I have no idea why he is standing on the rooftop.

I will accompany Mr. V and his P.E. class to the track and field event. I will take care of one of the groups and time them for the laps. I don't like this very much and I am not really certain of what to do. Mr. V is not telling me much either and he is as usual doing his own stuff, preparing and getting things ready. It is drizzling and I wonder if the event will be postponed since we are in the U.S. But I think we will still go on with it. I walk over to the side of the track and it is grey and wet in the air.

Now I am standing by a pay phone nearby the track. I want to call A. and I am inserting some coins with my left hand as I am holding the phone with my right hand. I dial the number with my left index finger and notice that I am doing this with some difficulty. When I look at the little screen on the phone I see that I have managed to dial the correct number and I wait for A. to answer… It rings several times but no one answers.

I am walking along the track and come to a deep pond. A woman is standing by the pond and she speaks to me. We exchange some words and afterward she steps closer to the water and jumps in! She is inviting me too. I don't want to join her. I look into the water and I see the bottom. It is deep but I do not want to jump in. The woman swims back to the edge and stretches out her arm so I can help her up. I do not understand why she jumped in in the first place. She seemed to want to jump in.

Mom and dad are going on vacation. They might be going to the U.S. The place they go to is now being flooded and it is with great difficulty that anyone can access the place where they plan to stay. Grey water is covering large parts of the road leading to the destination. People have to wade in kneedeep water to get to the restaurant. It looks like the Florida keys, I think. I am standing in the restaurant courtyard and am looking at the floral ornament on the walls. Mom comes up to me and says: "See what I did? I put plastic roses there instead so they would never wilt." They do look a little better than plastic flowers normally do.