Damn It, Kristin!

Cast of characters:

  • A 4-year-old girl named Kristin (spelled exactly like that; I saw it in my dream).  She’s no one that I know in real life.
  • My cognac-colored, calf-skin handbag.  If you know me, you know it.  It’s the only bag I’ve carried for the past 5 years.  I love my bag.

Historical context:

  • In 1999, a friend and I drove from Oslo to Bergen, Norway, one of the most fantastic drives of my life.  At times, we had to drive through mountains, via kilometers-long, rudimentary tunnels.  The tunnels had been bore out of solid mountain rock, and the walls were never finished.  The walls were jagged where the drill cut through, and there was no lighting in the tunnels.  It felt like the mountain was swallowing you whole.  After driving several kilometers with nothing but our headlights on, it was very disorienting and uncomfortable.  It’s amazing how quickly your mind starts playing tricks on you.
  • I don’t know any 4-year-old girls named Kristin.
  • I haven’t been on a water slide for about 20 years.

The dream:

I was in a cave.  It wasn’t too big… maybe 50 yards in diameter.  The walls were rough and pointy brown stone.  The cave was man-made and had been bore with a giant drill.  The walls were left as-is after the drilling was done.  There was a pale yellow-brown glow inside the cave.  I don’t know what the light source was.  Along the right side of the wall, there was a ledge about 6 feet wide.  From the ledge, several water slides (maybe 8?) were carved into the stone leading to a pool of water about 10 yards below.  There were a few people sitting atop each slide, with a few people in line behind them.  There were maybe a dozen people swimming in the pool down below.  The water in the pool was aqua and clear.  I was sitting at the top of the slide farthest to the left.  A little blonde girl named Kristin was laying at the top of the slide to my right, maybe about 4 feet away from me.  My bag was sitting on the stone floor in between Kristin and me.  I stood up and looked over Kristin.  She had fine, shoulder-length, curly blonde hair and was wearing a turquoise swimsuit with white trim and a magenta heart on the front.  She was getting ready to go down the slide.  Just as she started sliding down the slide, she reached over, grabbed my bag, and crossed both her arms around it, holding it close to her body.  She then slid down the slide with my bag!  It occurred to me that she grabbed my bag because she wanted to use it as a flotation device.  Regardless, I yelled, “Damn it, Kristin!”  I then jumped on Kristin’s slide and slid down on my stomach, head first after her.  I dove into the water, and when I came up, Kristin was lying there, floating on her back, using my bag as a flotation device.  I woke up before I grabbed it away from her. 🙂


Shillings in Senegal

Cast of characters:

  • Female Senegalese shopkeeper
  • Me

Historical context:

  • Constantly dreaming of Africa these days.  I’ve never been to Senegal or Burkina Faso… or Burundi.  Though I’ve been close to Burundi.
  • I have a relatively good sense of African geography.
  • I used Shillings in Austria in 1999.  Maybe elsewhere, too?  Britain?
  • Otherwise, no real context.

Saturday night’s dream:

I was in the middle of nowhere in Africa.  Geographically speaking, I was in Burkina Faso in western Africa.  However, in my dream, I was in “Senegal.”  I was out in the middle of the desert, and I wandered into a free-standing store made of stucco.  It was painted on the outside in bright aqua.  The inside was painted a dull light blue, and it was brightly lit in fluorescent lighting.  The woman standing at the counter was in her 50s or 60s and was wearing a red kerchief on her head.  She was wearing a light blue dress with cream-colored ruffles around the scoop neckline.  I don’t remember what I wanted to buy, but I put it on the counter to pay and offered her some Senegalese money.  She said that that wouldn’t work and that she needed Shillings from Burkina Faso.  But in my dream, “Burkina Faso” was actually Burundi, geographically speaking.  I begged her to take my Senegalese money, and she kept telling me she could only accept Shillings from Burkina Faso.  I was stuck; I wanted and needed my goods, but couldn’t pay for them.  I had to get going, but there was nothing I could do.  The woman was friendly, but she couldn’t help me.