The dream engine does the voices

by , under dream engine, life

It started in church, in what appeared to be a lay service (activity in the choir but not in the altar). There were at least 3 people in the congregation apart from the choir: Prima, and an autistic young man I also know in waking life, and a middle-aged woman I’ve only ever seen in this dream. There was a lot of stuff I don’t recall but then the middle-aged woman, already small, started shrinking, and losing her human voice, reduced to moans and whimpers. People were taking care of her so I stayed in choir-under-stress mode, alert but focused on what I was doing, until the young man called me because “it’s you she needs”. By that time the woman was the size of a newborn baby, large head and baby-sized but adult-proportioned body, very creepy, lying in a basket completely naked so I got a towel or something to cover her with. Then someone (possibly the young man) took the basket to the hospital, and someone else said “you have to get [Prima] to England, then everything will be all right.”

I went to the hospital too, an academic hospital in the middle of a big city (this is probably because I was in the academic hospital in Rotterdam on Wednesday to see the woman who was our bridesmaid when she was eight, and the girls’ babysitter as a teenager, become a doctor of epidemiology; but the dream one was different), and quickly got the hang of how it was laid out so I could find shortcuts. One of the shortcuts took me to a room in which my other half and some other free-software people were preparing a memorial lecture for another free-software person (who is actually on IRC right now so I know he’s alive) listing all his achievements. I said “wasn’t he a musician too? does anyone remember what instrument?” and sat down next to a thin elderly woman in a business suit, noticing that I was also wearing a business suit, like this but thankfully with a fuller skirt. The old woman laid a hand on my knee and said “you and I don’t need men, do we?” –not as if she was making a pass at me, but more in a conspiratorial way– and I pointed to my other half who was sitting on her other side, saying “that’s my husband over there!” Then I excused myself, though I’d have liked to hear the lecture, because I’d promised to pick up the young man from the airport which I’d already seen on the other side of the city, frantically trying to find a bus (a recurring motive of my dreams) but eventually just running in what I thought was the right direction. (One does not break promises, especially not promises to autistic people! Even though I know him to be perfectly capable of travelling by himself.)