Swollen Eyes

1. On my Way to Dore

Dore was in the dream, and the atmosphere of the dream was of her the whole time.
Something about the twilight films.

Possibly the same dream.
Something about a Buddha school of something something, possibly love. I remember cards or slips of paper in blue and rose with small texts, this was in a secondary school class room. Light.

Possibly the same dream still.
In Herent, centre side of town, near the Omleiding. Long dream, in the end I go near the Omleiding almost near the street of parents, but never really. Between there and Tildonksesteenweg. I will go to that street, because I want to go to Dore. From across the street, because I am at the centre side, I see Br coming from that way and watch him closely, he is alone, but I look at his hair to see if it is really him. This is at night, far away, not many people or traffic.
I cross the street, I think, and where Br is walking there is a market, small, maybe three stalls. And trees, like for a lane. There is one stall where the person has grilled chicken. All this while I'm on my way to Dore.

2. End of the World, Swollen Eyes, Flood

Suddenly my radio is on, which is what it does to wake me usually, so I think it is time to get up, but only when I fall asleep again do I realize that it was not real but part of a dream, while this seemed very very real.

Later, a building, can't remember the rest, but there was a lot going on there.
Something about an alternative, and in one group, there are two shooters, they have rifles. Teams are like this.
Everyone has been dealt a task, but a lot of them underestimate the shooting.
Outside of that building, light, workshops are going on, this teaming up and shooting is one of these things, toward the end of the weekend. I see two people sitting by the wall, among which an Asian looking young girl with freckles. I see she is not comfortable. No one takes notice. At some point without much deliberation I go to her and give her a hug and she is comforted by that.
End of the world kind of atmosphere, also the place.
N and D are there, they are leaving. They have to pass through the different houses, because all are arranged in one long row, but there is no street, you can only go through the houses. They all look similar. The houses are on some sort of dyke that goes into the sea, as at a port. Something about the roof. Art, there is also a snack house.
I thought: there is nothing left, but N sees some, and these are fried pieces of plaice, and they are big. This is on our way back through the houses, one of these houses is a restaurant. But because it is the end of the world, no one has supplies, so all the stores are empty and I have no trust that there will be still anything left to eat. Everyone is sold out. They have only basic things which are not nice left. Dad is there in the shop.
At some point I see a comic book, the inside, with Fras as a main character.
Something about singing, possibly in one of those houses, and possibly an activity, like chanting.
The end of the building, or of the city is water, the city ends in water, and I recognize this as a flood, we are completely surrounded, and I am thinking about boats. I tell myself that I will have to swim.
There is a pier. But there are no boats. 

There is also a section in which I eat broccoli. This is my own lunch, so earlier in the dream, but then I am made aware that some people have cooked, and I might take some of that too, and this is macaroni with a creamy sauce and broccoli, I have just eaten my own, but when I go look in the kitchen and see the big restaurant trays with this, then I am thinking that the broccoli looks better, and the pieces are bigger. Catering of this place, but I think it is actually participants who took the initiative.

Maybe the same dream, the end, my eyes itch, something is wrong with them, I want to open them, I can't, they keep itching and I keep rubbing my hands in them, then I see myself in the mirror, and when I see my eyes I see that they are held closed or almost, because they are swollen, the right eye, in the mirror, is more swollen than the other. Like of a bee sting, but there is no such history in the dream. I knew something was wrong with my eyes. Now I am sure, because I see it in the mirror. I can't do anything about it. This is the most lucid moment of the dream, of the whole night in fact.