I have weird dreams; or I don't dream at all; not sure how much I can trust the freudian theories on this matter, but if I was to ponder, I'd probably start worrying about hidden meanings.
At times, dreams bring to surface long lost memories. Last night I dreamed about my exams back in uni; I could not remember a thing – and I failed miserably… I have been a straight A student all my life, so this came as a shock; so I wake up in a sweat and wonder what my life would be now if I had failed in university.
I don’t have many things to hold onto if I were to describe myself. Little by little, along the way, I lost interest in the extra-curricular activities which made life fun back in the late 80’s and early 90’s; I hardly ever read a book, I no longer go to concerts or opera. I have abandoned live jazz in favor of records, and I surely no longer paint. Of course I am complaining about this, I still buy books and CDs, but they pile up on the nightstand and I spend my evenings in front of the tv, and my weekends meeting friends and bar-hopping, gossiping and remembering ‘the good old days’.
Then again – being a doctor makes it reasonable, I suppose, to pretend I am under a lot of stress. I AM under stress, but I think I am even more worried to realize I am a pale reflection of what I remember I was ages ago. I have filled my daily life with objects and people – so I’d never have to be completely out of ideas and alone. I am good at floating and walking around a maze without directions.
I just miss eating chips and drinking beer in the central park of this beautiful medieval city, while the band is playing ‘Stella by Starlight’ as the night is falling over the last evening of the jazz festival.