Monday, 27 March 2017

03.27.17 Swedish midsummer night and other dodgy tales

Me dreaming about Sweden. How strange, isn't it? My journey is set for August, but I was already there. It was a warm midsummer night and I was walking through the streets of some Swedish village with my grandma. We were in that part of the city cause my friend Kaos was supposed to be living there. Then, we passed by the Spanish consulate. It was a big, big house, but it didn't say Spain on the plate, but Bilbao (because we're worth it xD).
Walking a bit further, we went into a garage and suddenly got locked in there. I tried pressing the button that was meant to open the gate again, but nothing happened. Fortunately, a young woman appeared. She was tall and thin, wore black clothes and had long, straight, red-brown hair. I thought of talking to her in Swedish, but it was too risky so I asked her in perfect English if she could help us out of there. I was afraid that she thought we were there hiding or to commit some kind of crime, but she was instead so kind and opened the gate for us.
When we got out of there, we met a classmate of mine, Jon, his mom, auntie and, once again, his twin, who I don't know, but it doesn't matter, cause all I have to do in my dream is to replicate my mate's image. After warm greetings, we kept on walking and arrived at a crossroads, square, whatever that was. There were some little, reddish houses, that I think are typical from Visby (Sweden), yet in my head we were in some kind of reproduction of a French village. Near there, there was a huge gothic cathedral. There might be more classmates with me, cause I told another person (someone different from the ones I've mentioned so far) to wait, cause I wanted to take some pics of the church, as I have a soft spot for gothic architecture (I think in real life I don't, but anyway). We kept on walking inside that kind of French village. There was a garden, then a stair and a bar, all in a little square. There was also, outside of the bar a kind of exhibition and there was some sound equipment, similar to the one I have at home. When I jumped the stair, going after the rest of the people, the equipment turned on and I was super embarrased cause I could be accused of touching something that wasn't mine.
However, nothing went wrong, the owner of the bar was a funny Spanish man, that invited us to go into the bar. And so we did, and we also came to the other side and suddenly it was day. We were in a square, it was a hot summer day, and that square seemed like the main square in Aranda de Duero (so hot and sunny in Sweden? How come? I thought).
Some people were there, begging for money, but they weren't normal beggars, they were engaged in some sort of criminal activity, scam or something similar. They started harassing us and suddlenly, I turned left and there was my father (Oh, please, how dodgy, get me outta theeeeere).
Then we change scenes. Completely. In the last part of this strange dream, the scene corresponds to a recursive dream I have. I was with my mom, in her car. She had to drive on mountain roads, with impossible  curves and impossible slopes (almost vertical or even worse). I spent all the time thinking how it was possible that we didn't just fall. Finally we came to a plane. We had to stop there so I could have breakfast, because I wouldn't arrive home on time and would have to go straight to university. There was a bar, yet we had our own food. Mom started giving me packets with food, and I didn't know what I had to eat. The waitress told me that it was the same, but mom was speking too much and organising everything in a different way each time she spoke! (What a mess!)

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

03.01.16 Medieval jam session

This is about a jam session in a little bar at 4 am...
This bar was in the old quarter of an unknown town and had two entrances in two of the block sides. On one side, there was part of the bar and some beds (yes, beds, bunk beds, or even hospital beds) all together; on the other side, the other part of the bar and, at the back, some kind of chamber or hideout or something similar. It was a medieval style bar, with its rustic doors and all that jazz...
Well, we were at the back of the bar, at this chamber or whatever it was, and there was, it seems, another chamber in the basement, whose entrance was there. There were people gathering up their stuff and coming out of that dark threshold carved in stone. All kinds of things came out from there: weapons, war tanks... and a double bass. When I saw it I felt a sudden need to play it and I went to the other side to gather mine, which was there.
The other side, where the beds were, was an L-form corridor and at the back there was a wardrobe and my double bass. I dragged it outside, slowly and carefully, as the corridor was narrow (and packed of beds). Due to the pressure when passing through the corridor, when I came out of the bar I just had a cello in my hands. And I kept on running and suddenly it was just a violin without its bridge or strings (which had been lost on my way to the other side), and when I arrived at the other side, thinking they might be gone, I found out I had nothing, but, surprisingly my double bass was there, intact.
Then, we started jamming to Mozart's Eine kleine Nachtmusik. My teacher Lerman, and a friend, Mario, playing a single double bass, the one that had come out of the basement, which was lying on an enormous block of stone, my friend Sergio playing the trumpet and I was playing my double bass.
Yup, very normal!