The Gay Detecting Douchebag Bus Driver

I don't know what's wrong with me these days: I can hardly remember any of my dreams. And the ones I do remember, get this, there are no celebrities in them. I can't even get, say, Brendan Fraser to star in my dreams these days. I suppose this may be my brain's way of telling me that my life is way too full at the moment for me to let random celebs take up my energy. But I am seriously not sure that that is a price I'm willing to price for living a full life.

Here's a dream that I somehow managed to remember in details (still no celebs, though, sadly): I was with my friend Laura somewhere in a Danish called Køge, and we decided to climb a near-by mountain. There are virtually no mountains in Denmark, so there isn't any truth to this, geographically. It was late afternoon and sort of dark and rainy, but we were determined to go anyway. It was a bothersome trip. Most of the time we were able to trek, but for some parts, we needed to crawl and climb our way up. When we finally reached the top, we sat down at some kind of café and started talking about various university papers we had written during our studies. For some reason I had my master thesis with me, so I took it out to show her. When I looked at the front page that the title of it was "The Henchman and the Landscape in Nature". This struck me as a horribly clumsy title (indeed it is not the title of my actual thesis), but I seemed to remember that it was a title I'd picked randomly a few minutes before deadline. I was sort of glad, however, to find that I had encarved tiny little words into the letters of the word "landscape": I didn't really remember doing that, but I knew that I must have done it in order to graphically emphasize a point in my thesis about the landscape of a traumatic event carrying a certain signifiance, like a secret code, to a second hand witness trying to gain access to said event (which is indeed an actual point in my thesis. Although I never actually incarved tiny words into any letters).

After a while, we wanted to head home, but it was getting dark outside now, we realised. If we started climbing down the mountain at this hour, chances were that we would get stuck somewhere half down the mountain in the dark. Somehow we were now in Salzburg, where they don't have the light Scandinavian summer nights that we have here.

Luckily, however, we realised that there was a bus going down the mountain that we could get on, and incredibly, the bus was supposed to depart from where we were situated in just one minute. Sure enough, after a few moments we saw the bus approaching - except it wouldn't stop when it saw us. Instead it went on a little, and then the bus driver shouted to us that we had been too late for the bus. We protested and followed him, but then he drove a little further before stopping and shouting at us some more. This repeated itself a few times before we were finally let in.

Half-way down the mountain, however, the bus driver suddenly stopped and left his seat. He walked into the aisle where he intended to perform what he called a "magic show". His trick, he said was this: He was capable of telling if any person he met was or straight, and he would like to demonstrate this on a few of us. Every single one of us found this offensive, and people protested, but the chauffeur insisted. For his show he picked two men, a woman (whom I somehow instinctly knew was a Lesbian) - and me. I told him that I didn't want to be in his show, but the driver said that if I didn't want to participate, I'd have to leave his bus and make my way down the mountain on foot. By then it was pitch dark outside, and there was really no way I'd be able to find my way down by myself, so I had no choice but to stick around and be a part of his stupid gay-dar show. I don't remember how things turned out with the show. I just remember intending to file a complaint to the bus company, demanding that the chauffeur be fired.

Sarah Jessica Parker and the Chocolate Figurines

I recently had a dream in which I was at the top floor of Illum, a Copenhagen department store. I had somehow got my hands on three chocolate figurines, like the ones children get for Easter. Except these figurines weren't Easter bunnies or anything like that. Instead they were made out to look like Thor, Siff, and Loke from Norse mythology. For some reason, I was devouring these chocolate figuring, with a ravenous appetite. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a door opened and Sarah Jessica Parker stepped into the room. She was wearing a beautiful silver dress, Charleston-like, and her hair was short like it was in the fifth season of Sex and the City. Upon seeing me and my wild consumation of these chocolate figurines, she got this completely horrified look on her face, and rushed out of the same door that she'd entered Illum through.

That's all I remember from that dream.

"God damn it, Alexis!"

I dreamed that I was in soap opera Dynasty, as one of the characters, (probably insired by the recent death of John Forsythe). To be more precise: I dreamed that I was a teenage daughter of Blake Carrington and Alexis Colby. I had apparently been living with Blake in the Carrington mansion along with my brothers or sisters (who must have been Adam, Steven, Fallon, and Amanda, but I don't remember actually interacting with those characters), but this was the on-set of season 7, which is the time when Alexis manages to ruin Blake financially and take over not only his business, but also his mansion, so she throws Blake on the street.

In the dream, this meant that I now had to live in the house with my mother, Alexis, instead of with my father, Blake. This upset me terribly, and I was very angry with Alexis about her treatment of Blake. As a result, I did the only sensible thing: I went on a hunger strike. We were sitting down to have dinner, Alexis, my brothers and sisters, and myself, and I was famished, but instead of digging in, I solemnly announced that I wasn't going to eat a single bite again until Blake was back in the house.

That's all I remember from the dream.

The Autograph

I guess if this blog has established anything thus far, it's that I dream about celebrities a lot. However, my dream brain seems to favour some celebrities over others, and it seems to be particularly fond of Harrison Ford, of whom I've now dreamed a total of three times since Martin and I started this blog.
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The dream was this: I was talking to a girl named Lisa who was in my class when I first went to the university years ago (and whom I've had very little contact with since then in real life). She was telling me that she was going to star in a play along with Harrison Ford and several other A-list actors. The play was to be staged in Greenland, and it was supposed to be about the early history of the country, in celebration of some innuit holiday. In the dream this made sense because, as I thought, Harrison Ford looks vaguely like an innuit. Which makes no sense to me now that I'm awake of course. I don't think Harrison Ford looks anything like an innuit.

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But then the dream changed and suddenly I was on a sidewalk somewhere in Copenhagen, and I noticed that Harrison Ford was standing about near by. I figured that if I wanted to meet Harrison Ford, this was a once-in-a-life-time opportunity, so I went up to him and said hello and asked him for an autograph. Which is a little surprising in and of itself, because I don't think I would ever do that in real life. Besides, does anyone even do the whole autograph thing anymore? I'm pretty sure people just snap a photo of themselves and the celebrity in question with their camera phones nowadays.

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But Harrison Ford was very friendly and not at all as grumpy as he is often rumoured to be. He looked younger than in real life - he looked like himself in the 1990s. He started writing his signature on a sheet of paper that I'd handed him. "I really admire your work, Mr Ford," I then blurted out and he replied, still very friendly and smiling, "Yeah? What movies have you seen me in?" I panicked for a moment here, because once I got to thinking about it, most of the movies I've seen him in aren't very good. Like, I was wracking my brain trying to come up with a good title, and all I could think of was Regarding Henry which is an awful, awful film. I considered mentioning Blade Runner, which I love, but then I remembered that Ford reportedly had a terrible time shooting that movie, and I didn't want to run the risk of alienating him. I finally managed to tell him that I really like the Indiana Jones movies, "especially Raiders of the Lost Ark", and that I also love Witness. I then added a semi-nonsensical and much too long sentence about how I thought that "great acting, a great script and wonderful art direction really went perfectly together" in Witness and things got a little awkward again, because I could tell that Harrison Ford was thinking that I was starting to ramble a little there.

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He handed me my signed piece of paper, and I was going to thank him and walk away, but then it occured to me that I ought to get an autograph for my dad as well, who loves Harrison Ford. So I asked Ford for another autograph. But it turned out that he was a little pressed for time, so instead he just suggested that he possess me, you know, kind of like the Devil does in The Exorcist. Yeah. As weird and/or scary as this sounds now, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me in the dream, and Harrison Ford was very casual about the whole thing. So he just possessed me, and then I felt my hand moving on its own, putting the pen to the piece of paper and scribbling a greeting and an autograph in Harrison Ford's handwriting. After that, Harrison Ford's spirit or whatever left me, and I thanked him politely and walked away.

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I was eager to see what he'd written so after a while I took out the pieces of paper. I noticed that he'd written quite a long message for me on the first piece of paper I'd given him. I managed to read the first sentence. It read:

"I am a gorgeous man."

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But then I was suddenly unable to read, and I couldn't make out the rest of it. Then I woke up.

A Macabre Visit to a Hospital

Last night I had this really weird nightmare-ish dream. In the dream, my mother was going to visit the editorial staff of one of the departments at the Danish Broadcasting Corporation, (even though in real life she does not have any connections there). She invited me to come, because I know some people there, and she thought I'd like to go say hi to them. We had to ride an elevator to get there, and in the elevator I realized that I was wearing a really ugly outfit, which caused me to fret a little.

Once we got out of the elevator, however, the dream changed, and it was no longer the DBC we were visiting, it was a hospital. We went into a hallway where my mother noticed a TV screen with a kind of information video playing. In the movie, a woman doctor in a white coat was talking about infant death. I didn't want to see it, but my mother was showing some interest in it and insisted that we stayed to watch it. Suddenly, however, the movie started showing the bodies of two dead infants being placed on some kind of weight, and this startled my mother and myself, so we started walking away.

Still a bit shocked by the images in the movie, we went into the first adjacent room we could find. There, however, a grim surprise awaited us: The room was some kind of a morgue, and there were several shelves on which dead babies were lying, piled on top of each other. We rushed out of the room, appalled at the sight, and my mother was horribly upset.

She quickly led us into another room where some empty hospital beds were standing around. It looked like an ordinary patient's ward, but for some reason I said to my mother: "This is the ambulatory - do you really think we're allowed to be here?" My mother, lowering herself on to one of the beds to sit down, said that she really didn't care right now; she just needed a moment to sit down and recover. She looked very pale, and I was afraid that she was going to be sick or faint.

Before I could tend to her, however, there was a loud pang and a tall black man fell on to one of the other beds, a gunshot wound through his chest, dead. "Danny Glover!!!" my mother and I yelled out in unison, because sure enough; Danny Glover it was, shot to death. For some reason I didn't even think about who might have shot him, I just thought about how incredibly unlucky my mother and I were being, walking into one macabre situation after the other. My mother must have had that same thought, because for a moment we just stared at each other in disbelief. Then I woke up.

While the dream was extremely unpleasant, I can't help being somewhat amused by the Danny Glover aspect of it. It's really incredible the lengths my dream-brain will go to, in order to squeeze in a celebrity sighting in my dreams. I think I've reached a new level of random celebrity-ness now that I've had Danny Glover fall dead out of nowhere in the middle of a dream about me, my mother, and infant death.

They're Heeere

My dream-brain must have decided that I didn't need to get any rest tonight. Because I had a strange combo of a stress dream/scary dream. I had to go to an exam at a music school where I took piano lessons when I was a kid. I never actually took any exams there in real life, so I don't know what that was about, but in the dream I had three exams that I needed to go to, only I couldn't figure out when the exams were supposed to take place. This seems to be a recurrent theme of mine - for another example, see the 90210/Ziggy comic strip dream.

At some point I ran into my aunt and told her about my exam troubles. For some reason, my aunt had the phone number for the music school administration - she even knew it by heart and promptly gave it to me. I walked over to a phone and managed to dial the number, but once I got through to the secretary of the music school, the connection was really bad, and we couldn't hear each other very well. I shouted louder and louder into the phone, while the secretary just seemed to give up, and it was all very stressful.

Suddenly, however, the whole scene changed, and it wasn't me on the phone anymore - it was little Carol Anne from Poltergeist. She was talking to the evil poltergeist spirits and they made her blow into the phone with all her might. It was very scary, because it was somehow obvious to me that the evil poltergeist spirits were doing this in order to suck the life out of Carol Anne, so the child was slowly dying.

Then I woke up. Thanks a lot, brain.

The Ex-Flame Moves In

I dreamt that my ex-flame Giovanni (previously seen in my dream Indiana Jones and the Fake Moustache) was back and had apparently moved in with me, which is strange in and of itself, but even stranger when you consider the fact that I actually don't have a home at the moment and am staying with my parents for the time being after a recent break-up (with another guy). But in the dream my parents must have been living somewhere else, because it was just me and Giovanni in their house. I don't remember much about the events surrounding his move-in, but I remember that he took an interest to a cookbook that I'd won in a party game at a real-life Christmas party I'd been to on the night before my dreaming this. He thought the pictures in the book were very nice, and would like to try out some of the dishes, he said. We were doing fairly well together, Giovanni and I, which is completely unrealistic since I can't remember a time when he and I were ever doing well together, and I can't imagine that I'd have much tolerance for the guy at this point in my life.

After a couple of days, however, things started to go awry between us. Giovanni invited all of his friends over to watch soccer on TV with him, and he and his friends were extremely loud and annoying. They were drinking a lot of beer and kept screaming things at the screen whenever something happened in the game. At some point Giovanni even shouted something antisemitic at one of the players, which was when I lost it. I abruptly switched off the TV and started shouting at the top of my lungs at Giovanni and his friends. I was all THIS IS MY PLACE, DAMMIT! I WANT YOU ALL OUT OF HERE NOW! Then I rushed out of there, furious.

After a walk I had calmed down considerably, and for some reason I thought I ought to forgive Giovanni (because loud and annoying antisemites are so charming?), so I went back, although I felt confident that Giovanni would have left in anger by now. Sure enough; once I got back to the house, it looked completely different and Giovanni was nowhere to be found. Instead the cast of the TV-series The Wire season 1 were there. I started walking around, looking at all the characters. I saw Bubbles and felt glad - I'd missed him since I finished watching the first season. Suddenly, however, it wasn't me walking around, it was an attractive, African-American girl, and I noticed that someone who was kind of like D'Angelo, but not quite him, eyed the girl with interest. I thought to myself that this was probably meant as a kind of foreshadowing of a relationship between the two of them later on in the series.

Then somebody told me that Giovanni was up on the roof, so I went up there to see him. However, when I got up there, it wasn't Giovanni anymore, it was Queen Latifah (???), and she was throwing balls off the rooftop, AND SHE WAS NAKED! WTH? On the other side of the street there was a hotel, and the hotel manager shouted at me, gesturing at the naked Queen Latifah, saying "Will somebody please get her off of that rooftop?! She is offending my customers!"

Then I woke up.

The German Museum Custodian - Pt.1

This is dream which sits pretty squarely between WTF and random. I was at some seaside museum with two girls upon whom I had a crush about 15 years ago. We were walking around looking at the exhibition when I stumble upon a rather large scale model of Berlin. The model was inside a display case nested upon some sand. I, having lived in Berlin, was excited, and hoped to find my old house. Trying to get a good overview, I rested my hand on some of the sand which led the eastern part of Berlin collapsing.
This was of course a huge embarrassment, and I desperately tried to cover up my accident, but before I could repair the model a very German looking custodian arrived.

"WAS!?" he said, pointing at me. I mumbled some sort of a reply in German to which he did not react. After a few seconds of awkward silence another "WAS!?" pierced the room. At this point I was getting desperate, and started shoving the sand back into the model stand. This was of course to no avail, and suddenly more and more of the city started collapsing. "WAS?!" - the custodian was now pointing at the rather large hole in the model which was expanding at a steady rate. To my amazement the hole appearing inside the model led into a cave where some sort of skeleton could be seen. The custodian who was busy “WAS!?”'ing everything happening did for some reason not see me go down into the. The skeletons were of two giant deer like creatures. Perfectly intact and rather well detailed.
My phone then rang and a voice informed me that the director of the football club Brøndby IF Per Bjerregaard had bought the museum – this was gonna make money! I was thus rather happy with me discovery and even more when I noticed the HUGE dolphin next to the skeletons. We're talking a dolphin over 2 meters wide! It started jumping up and down, urging me to pet it. I then did that until another “WAS!?” could be heard and then I awoke. Heart beating and drenched in sweat.

Look forward to the highly unlikely return of the WAS!?-man in this German Museum Custodian two-parter!

Juliette Lewis and The Big Chill

I dreamt last night that Martin, my co-blogger, wanted me to watch some movie with him that Juliette Lewis had directed. It turned out to be a kind of comedy-drama about a group of hipster 40-something artists who all met up at this big house. It seemed to be somewhat akin to The Big Chill, thematically: A group of old friends meeting up and reflecting on how their lives turned out. Gillian Anderson was one of the actresses. Juliette Lewis was also in the movie herself. For some reason, every actress in the movie had the same haircut and hairdye as Juliette Lewis (shoulderlength, and dyed red).

I don't remember anything from the story, apart from one of the characters, possibly the one played by Gillian Anderson, showing the others old pictures from this one time in the late sixties when she was hanging out with John Lennon in some kind of garden. John Lennon was naked in the pictures and looked terrible, just like on the cover of Two Virgins.

There were also a few cameos of some sculptures that Martin informed me were also done by Juliette Lewis who apparently did some sculpturing on the side. I commented that Juliette Lewis is also a singer in a band (which she is, in RL) and dryly told Martin that I thought Juliette Lewis ought to just sit down and make a decision about what kind of artist she wanted to be.

The Thesis Defense

I dreamt last night that I was about to hand in my thesis. (I am in fact writing my thesis at the moment, however, I am not supposed to hand it in till February.)

30 minutes before I turned it in, I was suddenly informed that I was expected to give a defense of my thesis on that same occassion. I have always been told that there will be no defense - my thesis will be graded solely on the basis of my thesis paper. So I was very surprised and somewhat alarmed to find out about this, especially because I was told that I had to give my defense in English (which is only my second language), preferrably in a Welsh accent. I knew for sure that I wasn't going to be able to pull off a Welsh accent, but even without the accent I couldn't see how I was ever going to be able to put together a defense in 30 minutes, and I was very nervous.

To make matters worse, I was constantly distracted by my surroundings and couldn't find the time to sit down and actually get something down on paper or put together a power point show or whatever. I found myself at a huge castle-like building, and somehow I ended up in a public bathroom in the basement where there were a row of showers. My elementary school teacher was there for some reason, and she showed me into one of the shower stalls. Unlike the other stalls, it was locked, but she had a key and opened the door. It was a cold, damp, room with white tiles on the walls, and the and the shower in this particular stall looked more like the interior for an old silent movie about a mad scientist conducting ruthless experiments in his lab than a shower: Underneath the shower a big cage-like thing, made of dark, massive iron was erected. My old teacher told me that the shower had been built in the 1920s as a special shower for children who were stricken with polio-induced paralysis. My teacher's own sister had apparently had polio, and my teacher had often helped her to use the shower, sitting in the cage which would hold the paralysed child upright while the water poured down on her. My teacher then showed me a short music video she had made with one of my old class mates from elementary school, in which the kid was seated in the cage, while classical music played. It was a strangely beautiful video, meant to thematicize the difficulties of being young and different, and I commended her on it.

All this took up so much of my time that I actually never got around to writing my thesis defense, and I woke up before I ever got to the part where I had to give the defense.

Indiana Jones and the Fake Moustache

Last night I dreamt that I was in an Indiana Jones movie. On the fictional level at that - I was one of the characters. I'm not entirely sure what my part in the movie was, but a real-life ex-flame of mine, Giovanni, was also in the movie, as the villain.

The rest of the characters included Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones's father Henry Sr. (as played by Sean Connery) and Willie from Temple of Doom, and the artefact they were after in this movie was some kind of holy/magic book, possibly the Bible. To open the book, however, you had to find some kind of rock and a fake moustache (?).

Indy had succesfully retrieved these two objects somewhere in Syria and in the scene I remember most clearly, Indy, Willie and I were opening the book by putting the rock into some kind of hole and then placing the fake moustache next to the book. However, the book proved to be so powerful that it started burning after Indy opened it, flames emerging from its pages. Being mineral, the rock was unharmed by the fire, but the flames quickly devoured the fake moustache, and this caused Indy to worry: Henry Sr., who was not in this scene, had been after the rock, the fake moustache and the book for years, and Indy dreaded having to tell his father that he'd managed to destroy the fake moustache.

This was the set-up for the subsequent scene where Indy was reunited with his father and had to tell him what happened. He gleefully told him about the book and the rock, but hemmed and hawed like a nervous schoolboy when he came to the part about the fake moustache. He finally admitted that the moustache had burned, but to everyone's surprise, Henry Sr just. shrugged it off: "Of courshe it burned, Junior, it'sh a moustache! What did you exshpect!" he said in that Sean Connery way of his. As it turned out, you could use any old fake moustache you wanted to open the book - it was only the rock that mattered. Duh!

There was also a scene in which Willie had some dialogue, but I don't remember what she said. All I remember is that I noticed that she seemed to have undergone a personal development and become more mature than she was in Temple of Doom. In a very meta moment, I made a mental note to myself to remember to post an entry about this on the imdb message board for the movie. Being the girly girl that I am, I also noticed that she looked a lot prettier than she did in Temple of Doom: She was wearing a stylish red and black dress and her curls were softer and less frizzy.

Finally there was the last scene of the movie. In the scene, Giovanni, Henry Sr and I were all present while Indy bid Willie a tender goodbye, and Willie said: "Well, gee, Indy, thanks for all the adventures then... and, well, thanks for all the sex, I guess." A very random and inappropriate thing to say with everyone standing about, and Giovanni, Henry Sr and I all gave each other looks of WTF. Willie shrugged at our reaction and exclaimed "Well...!", and that's the last thing I remember from the dream. Something tells me that nobody is going to call me up and ask me to be a co-writer for the Indy 5 script.

The Leech

The following events take place in a Chinese industrial harbor at around midnight. The setting is foggy and cold, although I am quite aware of wearing shorts. Walking along with my friend Kenneth Goldbaum we reminisce on old parties. One event is especially interesting, another friend was once bit by a leech in the toe which was rather disgusting; We talk back and forth about this subject, until we stumble upon a Chinese fisherman. Kenneth approaches the man and asks him whether he has any planes for that leech lying on the ground, and if not could Kenneth have it.
Obviously, the fisherman has no interest in the leech and lets Kenneth have it. Kenneth joyously picks up said leech and juggles it around in his hand. I warn him that it might attach itself to him which it of course does. Rather than struggle to remove the leech Kenneth just lets it sit there. Sucking blood it quickly grows quite large and purple. Kenneth enjoying himself starts to wave the leech attached finger at me. For some reason I am now carrying a folded chair which I use to fend of Kenneth and the leech finger.
Kenneth amused by the leech starts to push his finger inside the leech - not in a sexual way - Just poking at the rubbery substance and pulling it over his finger. The dream then ends abruptly.