I DON’T WANT TO BE // A PROLOGUE TO HISTORY

Last night’s dream: The earliest part I can remember was being in a large backwards theatre set up with gymnasium bleachers.  It was backward because the stage was at the top instead of at the bottom.  For this reason, although the performance was incredibly bizarre and the actors were bravely acting on a weird incline, no one was really paying attention but rather chatting and stuff.  I know there was a couple having sex somewhere in the audience  (this is probably in my dream because Ben and Verena were talking about their porno cinema adventure last night) but not super obviously.  I’d been running around to different seat sections saying hi to people I knew, and ended up sitting with some friends for a while.  Then these awful guys, who seemed ordinary at first, came and harassed and basically – for lack of a better word -  assaulted me until I was in tears and then when they finally stopped and I was crying to my friend, they still hung around (until they finally dissolved as people do in dreams).  The friend wasn’t especially comforting, but she was reciting to me a poem she wrote in Chinese about how she was sad that she had to get an abortion.  It’s weird because although this friend is ethnically Chinese, I don’t know that she actually speaks it; she studies Japanese.  This part of the dream dissolves…

And then I’m running around the halls of a very institutional-looking building that was probably a hospital, but didn’t look like one.  I found the room I was looking for.  There was some guy, and my professor of Modern Middle Eastern history was giving him a lobotomy (like a benevolent one, I guess, because I only have good things to say about this professor).  There was no anesthesia although the room looked kind of clinical, and I’m pretty sure the drill was kind of ordinary and not for medical use.  In any case, there were a few people around the room being not so useful so I volunteered to help hold the student/patient down.  He wasn’t exactly trying to resist but obviously the sight of a drill bit coming at you can’t be pleasant.  So I held his head still with a clavicle grip (not very well, reflecting how long it’s been since I’ve had to practise any of my lifesaving skills), and the operation was complete and everyone was wishing each other well.  There may or may not have been other professors from the relevant Arts departments around shaking hands and exchanging gifts.  My supervisor even showed up, and wrapped a towel around my head the way a hairdresser might after washing your hair, to congratulate me.  At this point, I remember thinking, “Aah, so this would be an appropriate gift to thank your research supervisor with,” recalling a conversation I had with Verena last night about our theses.

I left to go change my clothes and met up with Kat to find some food to eat in the food court.  Apparently I’d only changed halfway because I was wandering around in scrub pants (the trousers worn by hospital/clinical staff) and my bra.  It wasn’t weird or anything, although I remember avoiding going over to say hi to the giftie guys because I felt self-conscious.  There was a Taco Bell, so I went there because we don’t really have any of those in Montreal (to my knowledge), and ordered the usual combo, except they didn’t have fries supreme.  Except it was on the menu!  I argued with the cashier for a little while and then I guess I won because the last thing I remembered was waiting for fries.  The end.

A few nights ago: This one is shorter because it was a while ago, and I had trouble remembering it even when I woke up.  Part 1 of the dream involved having to leave for China in a matter of days rather than months so I was running around freaking out and I was super disappointed that I couldn’t work a summer job.  The consequence of not working this hypothetical summer job (I need to finish writing cover letters) was not being able to get into grad school for some reason, and thus my entire life was ruined.  The decision to head to Beijing was clearly a horrible one, and it was just very distressing.

It was probably because I was distressed that I headed over to my favourite cafe, Myriade.  But in my dream, they’d painted over their beautiful brick wall in this horribly candy/institutional white and it was really ugly and unpleasant.  They’re also rearranged their bar so that their cafe premises were awkwardly narrow.  When I ordered, the latte wasn’t wonderful and the baristas were wearing absolutely ridiculous uniforms and I was very, very sad.

Awake: So… I was still a little traumatised when I woke up this morning (almost afternoon).  The day after I woke up from the second dream recorded a few days ago, I went to Myriade and I sighed the hugest sigh of relief when I saw that it had remained the way it was.  I have this problem (like when I had that scary dream about squirrels) sometimes where I wake up and I’m not sure if parts of my dreams were real or false (especially when they’re plausible, or take place in real-life locations).  It’s hella scary for the first five minutes. Geeze brain, wtf?

Actually, the cafe wasn’t exactly the way it was.  It had opened up its windows and there were tables outside because it’s spring-almost-summer (28° C yesterday). Hmm… what else… I went to the first going-away party of my graduating year last night.  I was happy to find out that the host got into her grad school of choice so that I’ll be seeing her in China in the fall (instead of hypothetically at some distant point in the future).  However, the prospect of more going-away parties is a huge bummer.