1. Making French Fries
We are in the veranda. Parents' home. Daylight. Everyone is doing their business, there are dark parts in the house as well. Family members go in and out, this is my brothers and my parents I mean. Apparently, I am in the process of making chips. But I'm doing something else at the same time, and this is why no progress is booked. And I think my youngest brother reminds me of the chips. So I continue. The potatoes are peeled, I did that before. They are ready. Now, they have to be sliced, but I have a machine that does that, so that must be easy.
I feel the presence of my mother again very strongly. The chips is my main work, but I get distracted all the time.
2. Declaring Man
Afterwards we leave the house, my father and mother come along or show me the way. We cross the square, Hooverplein, and come to a crossroads with high buildings, but a little bit renaissance, looks like Paris. We stand there and wait. A lot of people are here and they are waiting for something to happen. And they look across the street.
Then, at a certain moment, I see a man on the first or second floor entering his balcony. Short built, bearded, brown hair. Middle aged. He starts his speech or talk without notice, but his voice resounds as if he speaks through a microphone. The whole neighbourhood can hear it.
3. Hot Stall
Afterwards, we continue. There is a green or a park further down the road and then on our left. There is a stall there which is special and very hot. I don't know what it does exactly. But it is open. Though curtains hang in front. Someone comes, and Indian man. Maybe to worship. He takes the left booth. And I want to be of help, since I am standing there anyway, although I have no idea what it is; though I know something about it, to wit that I shouldn't touch it with my bare hands because the stall or booth is hot to the touch. But I hold a broom (not really, it is the one to mob the floor), and use that to keep the curtain open. I don't really know if I should do this, if it is right, if people be grateful me doing this. And sometimes I doubt my action, but I hold on anyway. Which is also difficult, because the curtain sometimes slips away from my whatever it is called.
The dreams were quite lucid, had I made the effort to record them immediately, more would have been added to the above. But I took scant notes when I was at work. And only write this in the evening.
ReplyDeleteI don't know what the dreams mean.
Dream 3. might be about Hids who invited me to come along to Mother Amma in Holland. I didn't go, but she did. Maybe something of her blessing came through in a dream. I looked up who this Amma was on the Internet and she is Indian. Hence the connection.
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