Wednesday, 6 February 2013

I swallowed baloons

I was somewhere. The place reminded me of my father's warehouse but later it transformed into an industrial exhibition building and a hospital.
There were a lot of people doing different undefined things. I was doing nothing in particular so I was looking for somebody to assist. I met some people that were in the middle of a photo-shoot. One looked like, or had the same attributes to be precise, with a man I knew when I was in the university. He was an old graduate that showed-up from time to time to talk to one of the tutors. The other might have been a christian-orthodox priest. They lacked some props and I remembered storing things like these in the labyrinthine storage rooms of my father. I went round and got in from the main entrance. There were attached rooms that apart from the doors that linked them had separate doors  that led to the yard too, but they were so stuffed with things that sometimes these exits were blocked. I took a long breath and moved from one room to the next, turning on the lights in each one by old industrial switches. I've always been fond of these small, green boxes with a small black ball at the end of the lever.
My research for props was successful. I found old clothes and vintage sunglasses and some balloons. I put three of these in my mouth and tried to hold my breath until I got out. I could not hold it for that long and I, accidentally, swallowed them. The photographer was very pleased with my findings but, once I told my father I had swallowed balloons he became furious. I said I would try to vomit and I went looking for a toilet. It was then I found myself in the hospital.
It was a massive building with a lot of hidden doors, odd staircases and half floors. I was searching but I could not find the toilets. When I did they were too dirty even for puke. Eventually I got from a half-hidden passage to a room that had small, wooden cubicles with this function. I got into one and pushed myself to be sick. My efforts were fruitless. I gave up and headed back.
It must have been at that moment that my scenery changed into the exhibition facility. A very large show was up and I met some people that I used to see often but had never been acquainted with. We started chatting and I was explaining how I chose to become an artist instead of a silversmith. Then we were talking about older shows and then I saw that N., a dude I know, was also showing his work there and I was very curious to see what he had been up to. Instead I woke up. It had been an hour since I turned off the alarm clock and I was barely in time to wake my partner, so that he wouldn't be late for work. I am afraid that there are important bits and pieces of this dream missing but this is all I can recall. 

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