Saturday, 1 January 2011

the boy who was constantly running

The first dream of the year:
I dreamt of a boy who was constantly running. My story has no consistency, neither linear structure.
I saw I met a boy that was constantly running. I was trying to talk to him but he was running away in the middle of our discussion. I sprinted after him but could not always catch up. He was lean, around twenty years old, with long hair, down to his shoulders. He wore a bright-coloured sweat-shirt and wide trousers.Then I met his father. He lived on a terrace. I had followed the boy there. His father had taught him to move fast and get away. He was a tall man in a white-cowboy hat and hair going grey. We spoke for a little while and then the boy run away. I remember constantly running after him, catching up for a little and talking and then, all of a sudden he would start racing again.
At some point I was talking to some girls, three or four, next to the stairs of an underground station. I saw the boy ambling past me. I went after him, leaving my discussion in the middle. I had started talking casually without knowing them. They seemed nice.
Later I dreamt I was in a similar scenery with P. We were in a city with similar attributes. It was very white and bright with wide roads and buildings with a maximum height of three floors. We were somewhere together and we had to leave towards different directions. We decided to walk together for a little and part further down the road. We were talking and I did not realize how far I had gone from my destination. At some point we said goodbye, I turned right and took a road that was leading higher in the city. I figured out then that I was miles away from where I wanted to be. Further more I was bare-foot! I would have to walk a great distance up-hill, on a muddy road, as clouds were gathering in the sky above me and with no shoes on. I was taken aback slightly by the smoothness of the ground. I expected it to be harsh and hurt my feet but, on the contrary, I was walking quite comfortably. I recall looking at my feet on a muddy side of the road and on a white pavement. I also met people that inquired on my lack of shoes.
I went to bed around eight o'clock in the morning. The new year's eve party was not particularly successful, but I did manage to see the first dawn of the year. I don't like going to bed before the sunrise. In my country after the last meal of the year we make a cake in which we hide a coin. Whoever finds it gets a small present and it is supposed to be a sign of good luck. Every year until now I usually find the coin, but it has never increased my luck. On the contrary, I think I receive a lot of negativity from whoever envies me about that, especially if I happen to be not with my family but in another house, I do get strange looks. This year I wished for the coin to go to someone else. Fortunately it did. I hope to get luckier.
P.'s mother woke us up at half-past ten. I pretended to be sleeping. I dislike the fact that she never respects our sleep and makes a lot of noise outside our room. She knows we go to bed late. I don't understand why she does not keep her voice slightly lower. I tried for a couple of days to be nice, not pass judgment on people and show great patience. It didn't really work, psychologically-wise. I'll have to leave it here. Happy new year.

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