Late Night Market Lady

1. Boat with Runes

Unfamiliar house. Maybe a dog. Syringes.

Making contact through paper and text. The papers are in front of the individual. The text is in the mind. This is an indirect way of communication. And takes a longer time. This was among other places at the kitchen table, parents.

There is also a ship (?) with runes on the side. It was a ship, because it reminded me of the Roskilde ship. On the bow in front was a plaque with runes. This ship is outside, and maybe in the water, and we are on the quay looking at it. Don't know who is there with me. Some of the runes are obliterated, but I recognize the inscription, I've seen and studied it before, though maybe not on the boat itself. The structure of the text is in the framework of the aettir. Three rows.

In the same dream. I have kissed Brva. A few times and always on the cheeks. At first I did not had the courage and circled around her, but the longer we were together, the more I dared. People are watching us, this is outside, or in a dancing hall. We move to the side, rather dynamically. Afterwards we sit on the couch.

Same dream. At the shop, I am too late to order a certain children's book.

List explains something. She uses the blackboard. Tricked (Can't remember why).

University. Excursion, rectangular upper floor.

Difference between slow and something else.

A certain girl was in the dream. She worked in a certain sandwich bar I often go. She is young and beautiful and assertive. She's got an iPhone. Something about replacing data?

Something about learning a language, according to the dream, this takes by definition two years.

This is in the kitchen of our parents.

2. Cutting Egg

I arrive in my apartment in London and remove my stilettos and wonder where I got these from. At this point the apartment reminds me of the one of Loli and Alth years ago. Small corner when you enter. Shoes are there. Other pairs of shoes. I put the ochre coloured stilettos there. Maybe the shoes are Bale's, because she lives here too, although we split up long ago and we don't see each other anymore. Knowing that she lives somewhere in the same town makes me feel comfortable. And I am thinking that I can just as well live here as in Belgium. What's the difference?

I want to open a window to air the room, but I can't open it at first. The apartment is on one floor, ground floor. The bed is behind the corner, and it seems the only room. (I've seen this kind of room in other dreams). Anyway, the window is different than I remember and that is why I don't see how I can open and close it. It is a window that comes to the floor, so you could step out through it. Through it I can see the patio and other people who live here. All the apartments connect here. I don't want people to see me. Curtains. I hesitate to open the window. I fear I will not be able to close it afterwards. What then? People can just walk in.

I do it anyway, and am able to close it still. In the meanwhile, because I came so close to the window, I see on the sides ventilators, so there is always fresh air anyway.

After this I go out because I am still hungry, or at least I still want to eat. And it is about 8pm at that moment. So I go out in the night.

There is a point when I walk through London of my dream that I am at an underground station. People are waiting for the train. I bond with these people, there is plenty of time. Some boys, some young girls. The girls will go another direction, take the train and will do a quiz somewhere. I don't go after them. The boys are still here, but they disperse as well, so that only one guy is still here. I ask him whether he wants to come along, and tell him I still want to eat something.

Then begins my quest for food. Alone. The streets are very unfamiliar to me, I don't recognize anything. But I don't let it stop me and I just keep looking. I'll find something, I know there are plenty of places. This is a part of town where I have never been. I walk to the end of the street, where two streets come together, and I go left. Straight on would be only traffic. To my left I have more chance, so I go that way.

And I cross the road. Immediately I see a place and I take a look but it is for children, and it is crowded, I don't want to sit there on my own. So I am at the window but don't stay long and go to the next one. At first I fear I won't see another, but there is a restaurant almost next to it. It is almost full, and I don't want to be on my own in the restaurant, so I don't enter. But then I see one after the other, and most I just pass briefly. It is not that I don't have the money, I don't have the energy.

On the corner, there is a small square and a pedestrian area starts, reminds me of Paris, or maybe London, there is a big restaurant, with a beer garden, people sit outside and have enormous portions. I am thinking, this might be good, but I don't want that big portions. They are as big as tables. And it looks really fresh, but a little American as well, too bright colours, lettuce, salads, and what not. I don't want that much food now. The restaurant is busy, but there is still plenty of room, and at the other end is a man sitting alone, so I would not feel out of place. I don't go in.

At last I end up at a market, such as borough market, still all kinds of things, and I walk through the open stalls, none of them is roofed. Little place for moving. In the dark of the night. Still people around. Friendly atmosphere. At some point, somewhere in the middle, I happen upon a lady selling vegetables. I see green peppers and other things. Something makes me stop here. It soon appears that she is from Leuven, but living and working now in London. That forms a bond. She addressed me in both English and Dutch, that is why. I found it strange, because this is not Indonesia, but someone addressed me in Dutch, so we talked. I find it very nice to talk to someone in my native language.

She takes the time to listen to my story, and I tell her I am looking for food, still need to cook, or did not find any good restaurant, so I will have to make something myself. That is when she starts packing potatoes for me and shows me a bunch of asparagus. I think, I already had asparagus, but I'm not going to say that, it tastes good anyway. She picks my vegetables and suggests me what I should eat, I am happy with that. She does all in a plastic bag, transparent, big. Some egg too.

But the egg, she insisted on preparing right there. And she starts before I can say anything. She has a big baking plate in front of her, the kind where you fry burgers. There is lots of oil. And she puts the egg in a paper (boterpapier), baking paper, and folds it over the egg, I think that is strange but wait. And she fries the paper and all and then she bakes it very long and I think it is done already, and the she cuts it, but in a weird way. She has a thin cord and slices the whites together with the paper in which it is folded of the yolk, but swinging the thin cord underneath it time and again. She does that until nothing but the egg yolk remains, in the paper it was wrapped, and she gives me that, still hot.