This is pretty hard to begin with, and pretty odd, but let's say that this is the second time this man appears in one of my dreams in a short period of time, and it's reaching the dangerous threshold of three (three times that I dreamt of my other most favourite vocalist of all times, Erik Danielsson. From three on, I shall start worrying about the shit in my head).
Let's present this yet more bizarre than the previous dream from a kind of... beginning (let's call it so). We were at what used to be my grandma's house in Aranda de Duero. The conversation had derived from my hearing at some public office the name of this man, Ian (sir Ian Mason, your new Messiah if you ever see The Wizards perform live), don't know exactly why. So I asked grandma, who was there with me: "But, grandma, does Ian actually work as a clerk for the administration?", to which she answered: "Nope. He works as a door-by-door insurance salesman for a company called Jesus and as a receptionist at a hotel". Yeah, named Jesus after the Messiah of christianity and yeah, it appeared to be a christian company. And of course, if I keep guessing, I'll end up being right in my predictions about what is the actual profession of this man. *NEXT SCENE*
We were still at my grandma's house, only that now we were talking in the small living room that sometimes served as a bedroom. There was some music playing in an old radio cassete (or a device aesthetically similar, I can't say). At some moment, I needed to turn down the volume and I tried to do so, but I couldn't reach the controls, due to the transparent film wrapping the device. I tried pulling it out, but all I did was get more and more nervous and anxious. I felt how I couldn't breath properly, like I was drowning (which was kinda happening in real life, and it's a bit creepy). It all ended up with my grandma accusing me of pretending to be anxious and my uncle trying to defend me but only agreeing with me at certain points... *NEXT SCENE*
This might have happened at the beginning, in the middle, in the end... but it doesn't matter, it's just the only unconnected part of all this tangle. Mom and I arrived at a flat in a holiday resort, with our bags, cases and... beds! Yeah, our beds that we had to bring upstairs. The flat was not very big, but had a large balcony plenty of plants with enormous, round (disgusting) bugs flying around them. And behind the plants, against the rail, a very weird dog. It seemed to be a kind of zombie, with only his very thin and apparently fragile bones, and some fur, like feathers or fluff/fuzz, covering this fleshless skeleton.
And all of this after having woken up at 6 am only to sleep one more hour. This has happened in a freaking hour
