Juul
Dream
26-03-2003
1
We are somewhere in a technical room and come out, in the back of a shop. Bundles of cables hang in front of the door, and we have to push them away to get through. I buy a sandwich, and a bottle of cheep perfume clashes on the floor.
2
Agnes, Juul's wife, has a lover, and will leave Juul. They just spent a lot of money to renovate the house they rent (from us). The roof as a whole has been removed, and I think it will rain in, given the circumstances. Nevertheless five people are putting back the tiles, and adjust the structure. It is a roof in the form of a cross, with four inner gutters.
3
Juul sits alone in his room, Agnes being gone with the kids. He is laughing a little bit silly, but in fact he is forlorn and doesn't know which way to turn.
Free Association
26-03-2003
After passing a lot of unconscious funny twists in the dream, I (re-)turn in the habitable world. It is just like being born, making my way through a veil of cables. Twice, in the past, I clearly remembered my own birth. Not with words or pictures, but in feelings and noises. I felt my head moving in a narrow space, and heard a strange sliding noise. There was no breathing. The sensation of suffocation was there, but did not fit in the experience - between sleeping and being awake - sneaking over me like a dream. I did not breathe, but in the 'dream' that was not necessary either, being oxygenated via the navel string. I did not breathe while experiencing the remembrance, and it gave a sinking sensation. It was a partial reliving. A close bodily surrounding.
Birth-trauma, like it is named, is not always traumatizing - seen and experienced from the inside. It is strange, peculiar, something to be bewildered about, a thing to be registered in memory, in the gallery of special experiences.
On entering the world, there is food and cheep perfume. Both are special. My mother told me that I was breast-fed for exactly one single day. I sucked to hard, and that hurt her, she said, and then she simply stopped with it. She gave me 'bottles', and struggled with her own milk production. I don't remember a bit of it. The shape of the bottle of cheep perfume (in the dream) reminds me of a bottle of Triple-Sec, new-year drink, when I was very little. They let me take a taste of it, licking my little finger sopped in the alcoholic sweet. And there it took an end.
The Triple Sec stood in the cupboard in the living room, where I was not allowed to have my nose in. Each cupboard had its specific smell you know. The one for shoes and hiding the gas cooker had a pleasant aroma, because I often could partly empty it to play with the dirt in a corner of the room, under a small table. The cabinet in the bedroom smelled more wooly, and contained the button-box. Once I sewed something with a cloth, a brown or kaki belt I think, but my mother said that was for girls.
All tiles are removed from the roof. Perhaps it rains in, and then everything will be broken. I can't manage to repair the cross-shaped roof on my own. Nevertheless there are many men on my roof, and this gives me a safe feeling. They care for me, but all the same... . Parting is in the air. An in-between gutter. Gut the building, kill it. Regularly people fall off the roof, I have been told. In Dutch an inner gutter is also called a sleeper : just wait until others do something useful, as when I sold beer together with my father. He regularly stuck around in a café for a while - half an hour or so. Then I fell asleep in the van. He also stuck to some madam sometimes, but then he had to talk seriously about grief or so. When my grandmother died, I felt very lonesome. I did not understand how the world could go on, without her, and if I should be able to hold out myself.
My grandfather always wore a cap (on his roof), which sometimes fell off when he, drunk on Saturday-evening, was sleeping with his head on the table. He was funny, when he was drunk. When his wife, granny, died, he came staying with us, and did not drink that much anymore, and in the beginning he sometimes was very aggressive. Angry with sorrow and loneliness.
Juul was our barber, and he came at my grandmother's house, sometimes, to cut my hair. Boring. Juul lived at an angle in front of us, and could repair alarm clocks too. Zegertje was the shoemaker, and lived a little bit further on. Door was married with Marie, and she always got blows when he was drunk. The pastor sometimes came for a visit, just in front of our door they lived, to discuss the situation, and to make a better guy of Door. Anyway, he made one child after the other, always lost his job and drank much. Marie never left Door, although they said between us : "If this happened to me, I would divorce"! People separate for a fart, nowadays, as if it were no more then a fart to divorce too. Obviously they have no ties with each other, don't care about the other, don't feel sorrow on going on, or never are lonesome, or, ..., but yes, much has to be said about that of course. About the church too, with its cross, and if it has to be kept in the middle of life or not.
-
Parfum :
http://lagartoglass.com/perfume.htm -
Geboorte :
http://www.ouders.nl/prysfoto/p0021.htm -
Triple Sec :
(http://www3.alpha-net.ne.jp/users/corundum/sec.jpg) -
Dakwerkers :
(http://www.cnweb.com/tribune/old/nov99/nov11/) -
Juul, de coiffeur :
(http://catholique-saint-brieuc.cef.fr/act/formations/parcours2002/ktad1.htm)
Copyright © 2003 A. Syberg