The Interpretation of Cheese Dreams @cheesedeutung - Tumblr Blog

After parmesan

I was Yogi bear, and I was in a wheelchair backstage at an Ariana grande concert. I was upset that I couldn't walk so I tried really hard to levitate and I did and I went out and upstaged Ariana grande

–DN (dreamt on the night of 16 August 2022)

Double-decker grilled cheese sandwich

I arrived at a quaint hotel in some remote part of Germany. As part of the standard check-in procedure, I was escorted to the nurse’s office. The required shots were administered by a young woman who spoke in a thick accent. As she inserted the needle into my arm, she leaned in close and said, “I am a lesbian and tonight we will go lesbian cruising in the forest. You may come too.” “How does it work,” I asked. “We wear long dresses and walk for many hours in the woods.” I was intrigued but shy and told her I would try to make it. I spent the rest of the night roaming dark hallways searching for my lost luggage.

– R

Asda mild brie

“I was sat at a computer with L.K, showing her how to 'define brush preset' from a selection of a pattern. Two random women were there moving stuff into a studio space. L.K said look they are just like us (shlepping stuff into a studio)... they were dragging deep fried bats into a corridor. I kept trying to define brush preset but the selection wouldn't copy over. L.K was getting impatient. A bomb went off and a building was blown up but i wasn't deterred from trying to define the brush preset. L.K was getting impatient. Then Mickey the one armed bandit came close to the screen and thanked me for being a witness to the bomb. I kept trying to define the brush preset and copy paste with the magnetic lasso till i woke up.”

– SC

colston bassett stilton, red leicester and cheddar

There were a lot of dreams. The one I remember was at the end. I was with my best friend who was also in some senses my first lover when I was about fifteen, we had been reunited after a long time. We were touching and kissing a lot, and we were in the flat I currently live in. Out at the back there’s a shared garden which all the flats look onto. It was morning and suddenly there was a great noise, everyone threw up their sash windows to look out onto it. A group of people had set up a theatre in the garden, with three rows of seats, and were rehearsing. I wanted to go down and be among them but I was worried about covid. In fact I was also anxious that I’d volunteered for a role in this performance, but I couldn’t remember what it was, and I didn’t want to go down to find out. Nevertheless, I did go down, for a bit, but I can’t remember that. Then my friend and I were lying down together on an old horsehair stuffed sofa my parents used to have, where you had to push a lever to let down the arm on one end so it turned into a (precarious) chaise longue. And we cuddled and kissed a bit, I wanted to get right up against her body. Then it changed and we were in a sort of bridge that was partly inside and partly outside a building, and people were walking underneath. The people were tourists – it was part of or adjacent to a royal palace. Flags everywhere. I shouted down that no tourist should come and worship our flag, colonialism persists, and something about the Butcher’s Apron (I notice I am often very hostile to the Union Jack in dreams – perhaps it’s partly because I live in Scotland now, where it has a particular meaning)…. Anyway some of the tourists I was yelling at came up to have it out with me. There was a very lanky young man and someone I assumed to be his mum, wearing a hijab and a long gown. I think they might have been from Saudi Arabia or somewhere with a monarchy also. He argued with me a bit but then I said I had been to Palestine and my understanding of colonialism came from there. They both liked Palestine and we ended up exchanging greetings in Arabic.

– Anon (26-27 Dec 2020)

emmental

Pre-cut slice of emmental, spread with fine-cut marmalade, no bread

1. I was in AK’s parents’ house I opened the bedroom door there was a yuppy violently vomiting blood onto a stone coloured sofa. The walls were styled like a book display with multiples of a some new book on show. I closed the door to the yuppy. AK and I had an argument.

2. DH was interrogating me he was a cop at one point. We made up.

3. Was in our with KD making an arrangement to meet later in another pub – the Constitution by the canal. I had to go on the run so didn’t call to say wouldn’t be able to show just left her waiting.

4. Police vans in streets meant I couldn’t get to pub but had to go on the run. KD was drawing heat. Had to pack an emergency on the run bag at my flat and flee with some dreadlocked crusty anarcho I met at G8 Gleneagles in the Stirling encampment. We went on the run, I had this freeze frame image kind of lift off the surface of my dream – the image was of a truck on fire which we were running past, which had an Extinction Rebellion sticker by the number plate. The whole thing was in flames. I got as far as Camden Square before I woke up.

The dream was so fucking disturbing it stayed with me through the whole of the next day and really unnerved me. It was like I had been in a parallel universe or some shit. I hate the police.

– SC

vegetarian cheese burger

“I was on my own in Hackney, walking home. It was a residential street. As I walked I noticed that between the cars, tents had been set up by homeless people. I pointed these out to myself as I went (earlier in the day, awake, I was walking with friends along the seafront in Brighton, noticing the new tents set up along the strip of grass between the promenade and the street). I walked closer to one of the cars and looked through the window. A tent had been set up inside of it, crammed into the backseat. Then I looked through the window of the next. People were sleeping everywhere: strewn across the floor, in the boot, falling out of the open doors. Others were curled around the wheels for warmth. (At around this time I noticed that I was wearing a large double-breasted green coat.) The people in the cars were waking up and reaching out, wordlessly, like ghosts; I thought that they were mostly Eastern European (echoes of a conversation with a racist teenager in Battersea last week, who told me that the growing population of homeless were all foreigners). Then I looked down at my chest. A homeless person was growing out of it in profile, pushing its way up out of the front flaps of the coat. His face was like a slice of ham, compressed and distorted in bunches. The features were much larger than mine. One massive, distorted, leaking eye curved out of my chest up to my shoulder, looking like the neck-tumour health warning you see on cigarette packets. The eye was disproportionately large; about the size of a basketball. It seemed cartoonishly tired and miserable. Its mouth was small and down-drooping. I wanted so much to get it out of me. I was panicking. There were homeless people everywhere now, exhausted and unshaven people, worn out people, prematurely aged people, all waking up and flowing out of the cars. I knew that the only way to get the face out of my body was to evict it. It was renting me, I had to find a way to stop it leasing this space in my chest. I woke up frightened and lay half awake for a long time, trying to remember the names of my friends. They kept flowing into one another and mutating: weird portmanteaus, wrong guesses and hybrids, like my own body, with this terrifying stretched face pushing its way lugubriously out of it.”

Melted French Ricotta and Poached Eggs

“I begin the dream a willing participant in a plot involving Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. It is evidently based on Point Break, but somehow the Peckham Peace Wall plays an important role, the true nature of which I cannot fully grasp. I abandon them both when Keanu burns down a shed in an act of pure nihilism. Disillusioned, I arrive in Brighton for a reason I don’t remember. I go to a small Oxfam bookshop and bump into an old housemate of a friend. I don’t want to talk, but this person monologues at me about a recent relationship and, as my attention wonders, begins to pinch my arm repeatedly while they talk.

After they leave the shop, I look at the shelves and find a small, gold embossed copy of the Thousand and One Nights. I think about reading a story but remember that I have to go and see D. I go to D’s studio. He is clearly exasperated, his studio is covered in books and he is wearing a pink hoody. K is also there and has been laughing at whatever story D has been telling her. I ask what is funny and lie down with my feet against the books. D begins to shake his head and I ask again. D looks hesitant, K laughs, and D begins to speak but stops himself.

He is clearly attempting to speak about a person, but I quickly realize that his singular combination of acute insight and overwhelming good nature will not allow him to articulate his feelings. Instead, he opts to perform an interpretive Cossack dance that I understand to be elaborating with alarming clarity the distinction between Marxist Feminist and Liberal Feminist positions on the question of work, and on the question of academic labour in particular. D’s dance gathers intensity as K and I laugh uncontrollably, a reaction that simultaneously encourages and annoys D. I wake up grinning from ear to ear as D crashes through a pile of books with a particularly violent kick”.

– TA

blue cheese

– AT

mozzarella

“Had a dream last night that I was in another country. I was on the phone to someone and suddenly the call cut out and a pre-recorded voice said in affectless, unaccented English that Hard Brexit had now occurred and that the line would be cut. The phone line went dead but I realised as soon as it happened that I had lost the power to speak. Mixture of fear and frustration; reproduction of the sensation I had a couple of weeks ago when I left my bank card in a cash machine in Hamburg. Tried to explain what had happened but couldn't.

Sometime later I met you and you tried to teach me sign language. Just one sign, some complicated thing involving knotting your fingers together that I wasn't able to reproduce. I didn't know what the sign meant (perhaps: Hard Brexit has happened and I am unable to speak except in sign language). At some point in all of this I was scorned by a small child. Assorted scenes of incapacity and failure”.

– DH

mature cheddar on a corn thin

"I bumped into F. at the BL and she had a doll attached to her clothes – she said she really liked it. I said, oh I want to get a doll too actually. Hers had a really nice face and a simple cotton body with no clothes. It thought I would try to find one like hers so I went to some vintage clothes shops. I ended up buying two stuffed animals which I attached to my clothes. I also bought an elaborate silk jacket for £38 and an asymmetrical skirt with patches on it. Then I bought lot of other clothes, all really colorful and with patches on them, a bit like the clothes people wear in extinction rebellion. I felt really bad that I had bought so many clothes that I would never wear”.

– MD

frischkäse

“I’m in a pub with three or four people I don’t know. We’re here waiting for S, who is coming to celebrate his 30th birthday. One of people I’m with mentions a new app that allows you to order a camel to be sent to a person’s home. This person is then obliged to ride the camel to a pre-booked destination. We all agree that we should order one for S, so that he will ride it to the pub. At this point I am immediately in bed at home.

I can hear S open the door and see the camel. He is depressed and unhappy that we have ordered it for him, and is clearly full of resentment at the self-serving nature of our birthday surprise. Despite this, he agrees to ride it. I fall asleep and wake in a sloping garden with a rockery at the top. On a bench next to the rockery is my mum. I feel immediately ashamed at the camel stunt and walk up to my mother who grows exponentially in height as I near her. She admonishes me for what I have done, and says that S did not enjoy his birthday. At this point I see that the garden is next the ocean, which has exceptionally large waves. I call out for my partner, who is Chris Pratt. We swim away from my mother and into the waves. As the land vanishes I wake up”.

– TWA

manchego

– MSF

durrus and st jude

After: Durrus, made by Jeffa Gill in Coomkeen West Cork, and St Jude, made by Julie Cheyney in Bungay Suffolk. Both a present from Neal's Yard. Quite potent.

“I was chasing someone through london. It was an older woman but I didn't know her and although I knew she was an older woman she didn't look like one. She looked generic humanoid. We were both running very fast. Faster than normal human running. I knew she was angry and wanted to destroy something. I wanted to talk her out of it.

We were darting around the area near London Bridge. She scaled a building and I followed. As we got to the top the surface of her now started to resemble a glass steel building as we ran across rooftops. I hadn't realised that I was also changing. We were both becoming buildings. Buildings running on buildings. Then we started to become really big. Building size.

Then we were running inside corridors lined with trees. Old corridors with arched ceilings. Each of the trees was like a sapling. Like apples in an orchard stretched out along the walls. When you touched a tree you saw a memory. I learned that the woman wanted to destroy buildings because they had stolen nature's memories. I wanted to show her good memories. She wanted to show me destructive ones.

Then I was somewhere completely different. Maybe in one of the memories. In school, with girls in school uniforms. There was a naughty balloon. I realised a ghost was in the balloon. So I popped it.

Then I woke up.”

– AE

cheese unknown

“I had cheese on a rice cake before I went to sleep”

– R.A.G.

feta

had the maddest cheese dream

(feta)

basically [jw] was trying to kill me

he had a party and everyone turned up outside

and he opened the door

and he let everyone in apart from me

and i was like "but you invited me!"

and he was like "no i didn't"

and slammed the door in my face

and then i was adamant i was gona get in

so i kept hammering on the door

and then eventually i barged my way in, and [j] was like to me "you're a prick i've always hated you"

and then i refused to leave

and then for some reason everyone had gone

and [j] was tying me up with thick electrical cords

saying he was gona kill me lol

and i was terrified

and i managed to wrest myself free, and ran outside screaming

and the next door neighbour saw

but then [j] came out and clamped some kind of implement onto my arm, and instead of getting help the neighbour ran away

and then [j] dragged me inside and i woke up

in the middle of the night

and i couldnt get back to sleep for like an hour lol

i havent told him yet

– DN

applewood smoked cheddar

from a fire burger consumed at around 9pm the night before:

“I was sitting in the middle of the back seat of a car. B.H was driving, A.S was in the passenger seat. B.H was driving kind of strangely or slowly or something. I became worried we were being followed by the police as I could see a small part of the reflection of flashing blue lights on road infront. I started panicking and told B.H we were being followed, A.S was worrying too - I guessed he had some mj on him. B.H was not worrying and not changing speed. The three of us were in bed, sleeping with me in the middle. I woke up from a dream about my father. I sat up in bed and immeadtly shouted “ Papa! I forgot about him!”. I jumped out of bed very fast , kind of flew almost, into my kitchen to write to him - I was in shock at forgetting about my father! I started an email, writing it in my head as I was putting in the password to my computer. I was writing to explain why I hadn’t been in touch for so long, saying to myself that the reason was that this had been the hardest year of my life. Then I heard a noise from the front room, someone was in there so I grabbed this small serrated knife of my dads from the woodblock, it changed into a larger one and I went in with the knife in front of my body. There was a strange man in there he said “L.V (my irl drug dealer) has left his phone down the sofa”, but it was scary and not righ and I didn’t believe him and I was shouting “help! help!” to B.H and A.S who were still sleeping in the bedroom and I was waving the knife really terrified. The light in the dark room started strobing and the guy was fighting, kind of body locked and wrestling with two other men, all stood up in a tussle - slow motion from the strobe. I was shouting and waving this cleaver knife. I woke up kind of shouting and making strained noises. On waking I immeadtly remembered that my father had died. I went through my unlit front room to the kitchen where I keep the knifes and tried to find a filter. Then I went to the front room and took my fathers yellow pen and one of his pads and am using both now to write this down”.

– SC

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