Stock Exchange Talk

1. Note

I got a note from somewhere, a piece of scrap paper. I think I am in a college (feels like MSI, university), or somewhere else, visiting class. Classroom. There are people around me. I don't know where I got this piece of paper from. It is scribbled full. It looks like my writing. The paper has squares for lines. I am immediately drawn to a name that is on the paper that I didn't put there: femke. I think of a person with that name, but I haven't seen her in half a year and she does not live in the neighbourhood anymore so it is unlikely I will meet her, but the note seems to tell that I will meet her soon, in a couple of days. There is a date on it too, but I can't read it. I look at it again, now the name fades.

2. House in the Woods

In a house, in the countryside. White colours. Light, by day. Father there. This dream felt good, but I can't remember the details.

Possibly something with water, too.

+ I also dreamed of Rudi Vranckx, who is a journalist. He was in the room with us. Maybe this links in with dream 3. He used different names though, when he introduced himself, or when people talked about him, to him. Two names I don't know, can't remember, but they all sounded alike. And I knew it was him, so I call him by his name anyhow. I still had a feeling of distrust around him.

+ People carried around pillows, or pillows in boxes. 

3. Old Men Talking Economics

We are in a hall. I am with a bunch of old men, my father is there too, and a lady. They all talk about economics, modern society, politics, boring stuff I have no connection with. They ask me a question, I don't know how to answer. Prospects for next year. Someone asks my father something, he says he doesn't, but that he does invest in natural resources. I know that.

The lady is quite talkative as well. Heard her before. She reminds me of Anvd, the poetess.

This is a conference room, we go to the back of the room. In the front is the stage, and light. It is darker in the back, but the tables are there. Other people sit there. We sit on our table and wait for the food. I am hungry. The lady sits across of me. The old man on my left, someone on his left, my father on my right. Food comes, soup first, it has bread in it, done with eggs, two pieces, sobbed in the soup. I refuse to accept a plate, this is not what I want. I let everybody eat, but I don't join. I don't like it.

The man on my left says if I'll be doing the 'overhoring', this is like a test. I suppose this is like an introduction or initiation into their society. I don't feel like doing this. I don't really know what it is. The two men on my left start to discuss this, but I don't really follow their conversation.

Then, the waitress comes and asks if I want anything. And she suggests the alternative. I say: yes I would like to have soup. She say: the alternative is red cabbage soup, it is not good, but it's all we have. I tell her it is alright, it has to be. I am not looking forward to it, but I have made it myself once and it is not that bad.