Of Horses and Elephants

1. Barefoot Bar

Jeve was on my mind throughout much of the night and at least two thirds of the dreams.

When I go get a sandwich at the lunch bar across the street, I see that the place has been refurbished. Now there is a hallway, then the main area where the tables are and then the kitchen, which is also the place where you make your orders, or used to. I go there because I'm used to.

I'm in the corner. Jeve is busy explaining something to someone. Two boys tend to me. They're new, I've never seen them before. There is someone else who looks like Jeve, who I suppose is her sister. I'm also thinking, Jeve's first name must be related to Marianne.

There's light in the place, lots of space, yellows. Sometimes a faraway feeling.

I'm barefoot. Maybe I'm not served by young guys, but youngsters want to order a sandwich too, when I'm there.

When I go back, I pass Jeve who is explaining something important to her sister, halfway the table area, and I know she is busy, but I say goodbye anyway. Wave my hand. She is a little irritated, but more surprised, for being interrupted. I go on anyway.

Then I go back to the shop. List and Liha are working. I see the clock and see that I have at least another fifteen minutes break. But I can tell that they need me for something, so I decide to make myself available and help.

2. The Narrow Stairs

Here's another fragment which may be in the same dream as the above.

Library in Herent. Up the stairs. Very small, very narrow, I go up until I can't go up anymore. And I end on the upper floor. I'm looking for something in particular. The rooms themselves are small too. The stairs are wooden, a light colour. And steep. Light. Maybe lucid. Maybe I was in the shop first, then arrived at the first floor, then needed to go up another level where everything changed.

Something about Indonesia. I say something about it.

Tables.

In one of my dreams there was Arve.

3. A Soldier's March

The dream begins when I want to return home and realize I wandered so far from it that I don't know where I am. I'm in a city, and walk the streets, my bicycle at hand. I'm lost. I try to trace back my root and go back maybe three turns hesitantly. Day. Bystanders. Then I think I found the right way. Or anyway, the way which would lead me in a straight line back to home, such as a high road.
When I turn to enter that road, I see a very broad road and a T crossing at the end. That already is disappointing, because it is not straight, I will have to decide turning either left or right. So I still don't know where I am. Because this is the most open route I go for it. The landscape is open, there is no traffic, there are no houses, etc. But the road ends and I can already see is.

I go forward. Somewhere in the dream I know I am in Hainaut or Kortrijk. I got here all the way with may bike, which is a very long way and now I have to get back to Leuven and I think that is almost impossible. We try anyway.

Halfway on this road on my left I see deer. Then, moving forward, I see hunters. I recognize them immediately. The ride horses, and when I get closer, I see they don't only ride horses but elephants as well. I am a little intimidated by that but I still go forward and decide to face it. They are all dressed dark. And they ride all next to each other so blocking the whole breath of the way.

That means that when I face them I have to squeeze through. I trust myself and do just that. I go through the centre. Two make way, but the one right in front of me does not, he's on an elephant of course. And when I pass I still slightly touch the animal. Neither of us wanted to admit an hair's breadth. On top of that, I know I can't return through this line once I get through.

When I'm behind this line, as if it is 'behind the enemy's line', than I see I'm in a military camp. They are preparing for an event. Something that they do for themselves, like a ritual or ceremony. They will parade, but not with public significance, only for themselves, for the sake of the military.

They are all foot soldiers here. On the right side are the barracks, and most of the people, preparing. One of the soldiers standing by is overseeing and comes my way to ask why I'm here. Here also, some are on horseback.

The street is effectively a dead end. Fields all about, somewhat rustic place. Quite. Which is good for the soldiers, so that everything they do is kept to themselves.

The whole troupe gets ready to march. They move back into the city, but another part than where I was before, so I do get a chance to find a way back. They will also perform, do theatre and other stuff. In the meanwhile it is clear that none of them can help me, I'll be doing my own rescuing. But they are okay for me to come along. That is, as long as they can keep doing their own stuff, which is the very traditional but obscure performing.

So I follow. These must be the streets of Kortrijk. They are steep. I have my cycle still with me. I go the same way as them while I am looking for the right direction. The bulk of them march up a certain lane, but this is a different route than the one I took. Theirs is a little more open, public. And people come out to watch. I see more of the city but have a hard time finding my way. Still I can't break free of the company of soldiers. My own way, however hard I try to look for it, always leads back to them.

When I look at the soldiers I see they play something out of ancient times. Many are dressed as ancient romans, and they got baby elephants with them, grey ones and pink ones.

Eventually, they enter a building. In the meantime I've befriended one of those soldiers, he is open and talks to me, which is good. Still, inside, nobody knows what to do about me. When I ask or keep asking these soldiers where I can find my home town, there is even one of them that laughs at me. This person thinks that what I want to do is unachievable, because Leuven is that far.

We go up a level, old building, one that they come to every time. Large open space where priests work, or old catholic persons with a strict routine. Lots of wood in the interior. Lots of private space that we can't access. We pass a desk, which forms the line between public and private and an old man of faith is working there, writing. He's got a pile of books in front of him.

Now that I'm here I might just enjoy it. The old man is bald. Maybe this is a catholic study centre. I look at the books, because the top one intrigues me. It says Goetia. White cover, black sigil. Then I take a closer look, four lighter books are underneath, all by Jan Fries, among which Hellrunar. They are paperback editions.

That one soldier is with me, and then there is another soldier who's his friend. All the rest is wandering about, like in a museum. Of course, I ask the priest about this book. I don't get a clear answer. I don't have to, because I can see what kind of books these are anyway. But when I did the asking, my friend soldier was a little alarmed that I disturbed this old man. I should not have done that. But no one can tell me off.

That is about where the dream ends.

It was rather lucid.