My Ex-Girlfriend's Place and the Country House

Date of dream: Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Level of Lucidity: N/A     Level of Cohesiveness:     Rating:
Lucid Intent? No    

This dream has been viewed 3449 times.

...I am driving to my girlfiend's place, I. G. It must be 1996 or 1997, because I don't really fuck girls anymore, and I'm in my home town driving my parents' car, and they obviously changed it since then. Anyway, my girlfriend's parents are not home. Good! We kiss, undress passionately. I suck her tits, finger-fuck her like I used to, how she likes it. I am about to penetrate her. But I am afraid that they are going to come back home while I'm here, fucking their daughter again, like in the old days. I probably leave before it happens. Somehow, she even helps me leaving faster. I love(d) her so much. I have a beautiful, surreal view of Ottawa at night from the top of the montée Paiement in Gatineau. I am driving to a weird building in Ottawa in which my aunt N. L. wants to buy a condo. Some of her friends are already there. The condo itself is U-shaped with the left part of it being the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, and the living room, while its right part is just a huge community computer room. Between the two parallel sides is a long corridor to connect them together at the bottom of the U. In the free space between the two sides of the condo is another condo side, where someone else lives. His or her condo is also U-shaped, and the other neighbor's condo, as well as the other's, etc. Anyway, for some reason, my aunt wants the estate agent to believe that the computer room is private. If I understand correctly, there is a community computer room in a wing of everyone's condo. I don't understand why, and how, she would want to lie to the estate agent about such an obvious feature. When he knocks on the door, my aunt gets nervous and asks me to take care of it. I answer the door: "Hi, my name is Alain. I am going to show you the place..." I am showing him the kitchen, we walk in the corridor: "At your right is the bathroom and your left, the bedroom..." We walk in the living room: "See? It's quite big! A beautiful country house." A country house that I've been in before; some distant relatives I'm not even sure to know own it. It could be the Catholic-Satanic hotel-motel my aunt N. L. owns. When I walk the estate agent back to the corridor that connects the two parallel wings at the bottom of the U, I see my aunt in a corner trying to hide someone among her friends, maybe herself. The estate agent and I walk in the corridor that leads to the community computer room. I am starting to feel uncomfortable. What does she expect me to say? There is a lot of people there, and I try not to mention anything. I notice that my jacket and my back pack are at a computer station. He doesn't mention anything. I also notice the friend my aunt was trying to hide is actually in the computer room, sitting at a computer station. "This is the computer room. Questions?" No. No question. Well, thank God! I was sure he was going to ask many professional questions that I couldn't answer on my aunt's behalf, but he didn't. He must not be very professional, then. He's a bad estate agent. I must tell my aunt. But she probably already knows about that. She must have met him before and asked him not to ask questions, or something. I tell him that we're in Chicoutimi, but it makes no sense: we're on Albert street in Ottawa. A robot arm is controlling, adjusting the position of my LCD screen so it doesn't reflect the light...              

Additional Comments:

My aunt obviously doesn't own a Catholic-Satanic hotel-motel on Albert street in Ottawa.

The Death and Life and Death of my Grandmother

Date of dream: Sunday, June 21, 2009

Level of Lucidity: N/A     Level of Cohesiveness:     Rating:
Lucid Intent? No    

This dream has been viewed 2930 times.

...I am inside a room at my aunt N. L.'s Catholic-Satanic hotel-motel in Ottawa with her husband Alain T. Or maybe at some very remote parents' huge country house. He is going to bed. I stay in the kitchen with the lights off. The sun will set in a few minutes. I look in the refrigerator. There is only a milk bottle and a cream bottle in it, both metallic. I drink cream from the metallic bottle. I am waiting in the kitchen. I am looking inside my back-pack. He gets up and goes to the bathroom. He then comes to me in the kitchen, turns on the light, and asks me if I can tide him over, meaning that he wants me to give him some of my marijuana. I don't have much left. He is willing to show me his penis to get some. One of his friends is in the other room, dressed as my dead grandmother. He is wearing a white, blue, and violet, flowered nightdress and a purple perm, a wig. I am at church, a chapel, with my parents for my grandmother's funeral. I am about to cry. I am going out to smoke a cigarette, but I'm on the terrace at work, on the eleventh floor downtown Montréal. C. L., my colleague, is there among a crowd of people I don't know. She is trying to console me as I start crying. When I go back in, I realize my parents have left without me to go to the burial. Damn! I can't walk to the cemetary! I start crying again. Well, I'm gonna go anyway. A stranger gives me the advice not to go, "It wouldn't be profitable for the horloger", which means in French a clockmaker, a watchmaker, a jeweller specializing in clocks and watches, or the Creator...

Additional Comments:

Of course, my aunt doesn't own such a hotel.

The Telephone Call

Date of dream: Friday, June 19, 2009

Level of Lucidity: N/A     Level of Cohesiveness:     Rating:
Lucid Intent? No    

This dream has been viewed 2880 times.

...I am sitting at a table at the entrance, the exit of a bar with ex-colleagues, ex-bosses, ex-teachers, ex-subordonates, ex-interviewers... One of them hands me his or her cell phone. It's for me. For me? Who could it be? I have not seen any of these acquaintances in years, and I don't plan on seeing them again any time soon. "Hello?" It's a woman I don't know. She is calm, but seems to politely hide something like her impatience. She is sorry to disturb me. She might be wrong. She doesn't want to accuse me of anything. She has no proof. But is it my car parked behind hers? Because now, she can't move it, and she's in a hurry, and she... "No, it's impossible; I don't own a car." She probably found a way to reach me with the information she was able to retrieve about me from "my" license plate. She probably made a mistake, especially considering she called me on the cell phone of someone I vaguely know, but I am thinking about my parents' car. "What does the car look like?" She is getting angrier, irate. I am not even listening to her. I find it funny. I tell her rude things in a clever manner to make the people laugh around me. It makes no sense. I used to drive my parents' car back in the late 90's, when I was living with them in Gatineau. But now I'm in Montréal and they have another car. Now she is threatening me. She is going to kill me. I am starting to feel scared. In which city is she? It's absurd...