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Thursday, 13 June 2013


Not so subtle, there, unconscious. I had two dreams this morning (yes, this morning, I distinctly remember having woken up and then trying to sleep some more). 

The first involved LesMisGuy or, more importantly, his parents. And mine. In my dream, it had happened several times already that my parents kept running into LesMisGuy's parents' suitcases (I don't know if this was at the airport but it seemed strange enough given how little my parents travel). I was asked to leave a message for LesMisGuy, who was home alone (from what I could gather) so he could get the suitcases. It was only supposed to be a message but when I got there it turned out LesMisGuy was there. It was a little awkward. I remember trying to pretend I was only there on business, doing as I was told. In the dream, he was supposed to know and understand how hard it was for me to act cooly. I nevertheless did my best to show our good intentions, as we'd put some of our own sheets down with their things in case they had no others. I remember seeing his room made a mess and maybe even offering to help make the beds. I'm not sure why, but it gave an impression of sadness on LesMisGuy's part, maybe related to his parents' absence, maybe not.

So much for that dream, the one I woke up to involved my sister being kidnapped by a wicked man. She'd even developed Stockholm syndrome. My family was all there, staying at his house (a very large one, one might add), and so was the token soap opera French man (for reasons I can't begin to explain). I was reading a very strange book. Not so much because of the story itself (it was a novel that felt very homely, and like I might have read it before though I surely haven't) but because of the format itself: the book wasn't so much a book as a square piece of cloth. The knitting showed words and when I folded the square in half and pulled or otherwise moved something, the words changed to reveal what was supposed to be in the next pages. So the book was all contained in this small piece of fabric. In my dream it was just a mechanical trick but I'm sure there had to be some sorcery to it. At any rate, the dream was not about the book. It was about me reading it while passing the time, waiting to catch a glimpse of my sister in the room she was kept locked up in. She was allowed out for a bit and I took my chance to tell her to let me help her escape. We'd apparently made plans (my family and I) to rescue her at a later date, but I would rather have her out as soon as possible. She agreed. We ran to my room, where I still had to pack my bags so we could leave. My sister was a bit obsessed with closing all doors shut when I left the room but, after a while, even though there were goons/servants walking around the house and they could see us, she stopped hiding. I worried that she wanted to get caught (did I mention Stockholm syndrome?). Nevertheless, it looked like only minor arrangements were necessary once my bags were not-so-neatly packed. That's when I woke up and I woke up worried, trying to at least imagine a scenario where we managed to get away so I could somehow give the dream a fake happy ending.

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