This blog starts resembling a 'dream diary', or 'sonnik' as the Russians call it.
Last night, I dreamed that I was the mother in a big Gypsy family. At first, myself and my husband were riding a horse cart in the countryside, trying to sell some things that we had produced to the local farmers. I don't know what kind of things it was, but the farmers didn't like us, and kept chasing us away. At one farm a man took out a rifle and shot holes in these things that we were trying to sell, and warned us that he would shoot holes in us, too, if we didn't leave immediately. Well, we left, of course, and decided to go home, without having sold anything.
The horse cart somehow changed into a train, and we were on our way home. We didn't buy any tickets, just in case there wouldn't be any conductor checking the tickets. You could buy tickets in vending machines on the train, anyway, so when a conductor eventually came, we pretended that we had just gotten on the train and were just going to buy the tickets there.
After leaving the train, we had to walk a long bit until the house where we lived, and part of the road went along the sea. We stopped on the shore to sit down and have a smoke, and there, my husband told me for the first time, even though we had been married for many years, that he could control the weather through magic that his grandfather had taught him. He showed me how he did it, and created a beautiful sunset. Then, he said that he sometimes worked for a secret government agency that used his skills. I wasn't sure if I should believe him.
Our home was the former shared toilet in a large apartment house. Nowadays, the other apartments had gotten their own toilets, and the landlady had generously let our poor and homeless family move into the former toilet, as no one would allow us to move in anywhere else, although there was plenty of empty apartments. It was rather cramped for us and our five children, but we kept it neat and tidy. At this point, I saw the dream from the perspective of one of the family's daughters, instead. We were preparing to go to bed, since we all had to get up early next morning, but the landlady came and knocked at the door and wanted to speak with us. My father went to talk with her in the corridor, and we could all hear how the landlady told father that other tenants had been making a long list of complaints about us and wanted us to move out. Then, she started to tell him that we should be thankful that we were allowed to live here, and that all she expected was a little bit of respect, etc. I said to my mother, that it wasn't really our fault that we had to live here in the former toilet, was it?
Meanwhile, the tenants of the apartment next to us were having a big fight. They had been drinking alcohol all day, and now the man had thrown out his wife. She was only wearing a bathrobe, and was staggering around in the corridor knocking on other people's doors, screaming and crying. The landlady completely ignored this commotion, and just kept complaining to my father about us and how much noise we made. The drunk woman then tried to come into our room, and at first I tried to shove her outside again, because she scared me. But my mother said, that no one else cared about this woman, and she didn't want her to stay the night in the corridor, let alone go out in the streets. So, she led the woman to our table, gave her coffee and talked with her. I suddenly understood what my mother meant, and I also sat down at the table and gave her the advice that she should leave her stupid husband as soon as possible ...
Posted at 6:30 pm by turukhtan