Dream 05.05.2024, 5:14am:
This is a recollection of a dream that I woke from not long ago:
Starts exploring some historical site, an old farmhouse, European, agricultural exhibits etc, I am there with my family. It feels like a museum, there’s an oiled wood smell, food smoke. The building is large, larger than it could or should be, but it feels alien and familiar at the same time.
Day progresses into evening and we walk outside to a huge geothermal lagoon, turquoise blue in colour, steaming hot. Sometimes there’s a beige/brown grass land around it and sometimes there’s a wooden footway. It’s dusk but not too dark? More goofy/misty to being with. My family and I are swimming but it’s not us, it’s archetypes. Ultra Finnish, Nordic, inhuman. Father is painting mother or sister whilst swimming. There’s bad feelings in me.
Eventually it’s getting cold, too cold, we need to head back inside, I don’t to get out of the water it is warm, our limbs are locking. It is hard to move gracefully.
We get out and ascend to balcony - mum/grandmother is struggling. Rolling out, limbs locked. We need to get her inside to the fire. It will be OK.
Outside it’s dark now, wind is picking up rattling the glass and shaking the wisteria leaves. There’s no blooms. Grandmother comes downstairs to fire area, she’s not herself, wearing someone else’s skin. We’re unnerved, she’s unwell and we know she’s going to die.
We’re not pleading, more accepting, being calm so she can go in peace. I ask who she is - it isn’t her face, her body, she’s dismissive, this will do.
We’re talking her through letting go, small talk around the fire, it’s sad but not really.
My grandmother asks me to put my head on her lap, I do, hesitant, I hug her leg as the storm builds outside and I can hear her pulse beating through the material, racing then slowly to barely there then racing agin. I know she’s going to have a heart attack and I will hear it and know when she is gone.
I don’t want to hear her die, but not necessarily afraid.
I am saying goodbye as I wake up in my bed, my arms literally hugging the air besides me, minor pins and needles. My semi-conscious night is telling me it’s Walpurgis Night (even though it isn’t).
