The father of many.

I am deeply in love with a man who is very busy. 
His home and his workplace (a recording studio) are integrated, in order for him to save time. There is no bedroom, but only a huge mattress on the floor, where I’ll sometimes stay with him overnight, when he has a gap in his mad schedule. He also spends a lot of time traveling, going wherever his work takes him.
He has about 8 or 9 children, none of which he is close to, as they all stay with their respective mommies. Sometimes they will come for a brief visit, but they never stay long.
I realise there’s something not quite right with this guy, but keep ignoring it, as all I want to do is be with him and for the two of us to be happy together.

Then one day, as I’m hanging out at the studio, trying to get myself together and go get on with my own stuff but finding it difficult to pry myself loose from his company, (not that he even pays me any attention, as he’s occupied by his work), there’s a delivery from the postman.
It consist of four babies, from the age of newborn and up to about a year. They are all children of this man, having been sent to him from their 4 different mothers, who have not been able to provide for them, and are now asking him to look after them.
He refuses to sign for them, and the postman has to return them to sender.
I’m appalled at his behaviour, and also very saddened by the fact that he has managed to be unfaithful to me so many times in the few years we have been together. However, I am not really surprised. I always knew he was no good.
Though just HOW selfish and unscrupulous he is, does not become clear to me until a few days later.

I’ve arrived at his place in the afternoon, a bit sooner than we have agreed. When I come up the stairs, I see that the door is ajar, and I hear his voice. I peek inside to see who he is talking to, and see two girls I’ve never seen before, about 9 years of age, whom I immedieately realise are his daughters who’ve come to him for help. They are standing separated, at different corners of the room, and he walks over to hand each of them a package, as he tells them: ‘Ok girls. Here are 150 euro for each of you, a map over Copenhagen, and a packed lunch. You’re on your own. I want you to walk out that door, and never hear from you again. And whatever you do, you are NOT allowed to talk to eachother! Just mind your own business, both of you!’
I realise he is a monster, an evil man who has no qualms about sending these two children out to make a life for themselves on the streets, surviving the best they can.
I quickly run down the stairs while I consider my options, and how I can help the girls. 
I am of course determined never to see this man again, but even as I make the resolution, I have doubts that I’ll be able to stick to it.

The Robot.

I’m in a world where magic exists, and giants and other strange creatures live amongst human beings. There are wars being fought, like here in our world. Sometimes human beings fight against magical creatures. Sometimes the source of conflict are country borders, or political issues where all beings choose the side they most believe in.

I’ve arrived in this world after a long sequence of events involving people sneaking into my flat wanting to kill me, (but just ending up annoying the hell out of me), the same flat tilting to the side and crashing towards the earth as the skyscraper it was located in toppled over. I’ve been lost somewhere in and around London, jumping out of a low-flying plane, out onto a supermarket floor, taking part in a party where girls one after one began to walk around naked, but with a layer of fake plastic skin pulled over their own. I’ve found refuge in a church tower, tried to learn to ice-skate, and have been involved in a soap-opera-like feud with my family and friends. 
A few of these people are still with me in this new, magical world. A sister, close friend, or other kind of relation, (I’m not sure which), an older male figure of authority, and a few others. We are on the same side for now, and trying to keep the peace between us.

Our location is a farm in the countryside. It is summer, and fields and trees in all varieties of green surrounds us. Birds are chirping, butterflies dancing. We’ve arrived in a big lorry, with a kind of living-room set-up in the back, which is now parked about 100 meters from the entrance of the farmhouse.
As for me, I have long corn-blond hair, a pretty rosy-cheeked face, am a bit chubby, and wear old-fashioned long dresses with lots of layers.
The farm is owned by human beings, and the people who works there are mainly of our race as well. They do have one robot though, doing manual labour. He’s worked there for a couple of years, and is well liked amongst everyone.
You wouldn’t know he was a robot by looking at him. His skin, face, the way his body moves, everything is exactly as if it was a real person. Same with his voice, his manners and opinions.
We’ve been chatting and getting to know each other in the short time we’ve been here. One day, in a small meadow not far from where the lorry is parked, I decide to kiss him. As his lips meet mine, I nearly faint, it feels so amazing. So soft and tender. The best kiss I ever had. We go further than that, and end up making love. I know he has never done this before. Before he enters me, I briefly wonder about his penis, and if whoever made him has bothered to make it look as real as the rest of him, as surely he wasn’t meant to be using it like this. But I am too shy and too preoccupied to look. And it doesn’t really matter. It is so wonderful to be with him. Afterwards we lie in the grass, chatting, kissing and laughing. I am already deep in love. 
When we walk back towards the farm he lifts me up and puts me down on the floor of the back of the lorry, as there is only a piece of fabric hanging down one side of it, so we can get some fresh air in our living-room arrangement in the back. We’re laughing, and he’s tickling me, so I fall backwards, with him on top of me, underneath the fabric, and landing on the floor – right in front of my soap-opera relations who are having what seems to be an important meeting. It is clear what is going on with the robot and me; there can be no explaining away the situation. And I don’t want to. I tell him I have to take part in this meeting, quickly arrange to meet him later and kiss him goodbye. Then I turn to my friends and ask them why they’re having a meeting without me. They barely look at me; they are so embarrassed for what they’ve seen. I’ve clearly dropped way down in their estimation. I don’t regret for a second what has happened, but I still try to talk and joke with my sister/friend, not wanting this to come between us, or losing her good opinion of me. It works up to a point, and at least she talks to me.
The meeting was some kind of scheming, behind-my-back arrangement of some kind of other, the ones that happen all the time, either to me or someone else, in our soap-opera-like existence. Probably something to do with money or revenge. I’m really not bothered, and don’t take it personally, it is just the way we live.

My family/friends and I have decided to move to the city, where I will move into a flat with my sister, (or whatever she is to me.) The plan is the robot will stay on the farm and work for a while, until he has enough money so we can afford a place together. (I’m not sure how I make my own money. It seems I just have what I need.) When the lorry drives away, at first I don’t get to say a last goodbye to him. I want to shout to the driver to stop, so I can run out and give him one last kiss, but then I feel silly, as we said our goodbyes this morning. I’m very happy as it turns out the lorry only went down the road in order to turn around properly and not having to back all the way up the narrow lane, so we pass back past the farmhouse, and the driver says to me ‘Quick! I’ll wait here’ I jump out and run into the robots arms, and we have our last goodbye kiss, with many tears and promises, before I have to get back, and we drive away for real.

Back in the city, months are passing. I’m pregnant with the robots child. I was very surprised that this is possible. But I’m very happy, and so is he. We keep in touch with long letters. I love his letters, which are full of drawings, and jokes, which always make me laugh. 
But I miss him! Time passes. The money he has saved up is gone, due to a series of unfortunate events, some bad investments and unexpected weather, which have ruined the crops. So he has to start over. I write to him that I will come and visit him for two weeks. ‘Yes!’ he writes. ‘I can’t wait to see you! Thank you!’ I pack my things and make the journey to the farm. Once there, I can’t find him. I speak to a good friend of his, who was also his boss. He has a sad story to tell. He tells me the robot has moved away from Lands End, the area the farm is located, and into Other World. This is the neighboring country, which is inhabited strictly by non-human beings. I don’t understand, and ask him to explain. ‘The robot developed some bad habits after you left.’ He tells me. ‘He really missed you, and after he lost his savings, he took a turn for the worse and really began drinking too much. He always had a gin every now and again, but nothing to worry about. All of us here have our preferred drink we enjoy sometimes. But he started drinking gin first several times a day, then all the time. He took it in his tea, along with a spoonful of butter. He became unreliable due to the drinking, and all the butter made him gain weight and become flabby. ‘ (I remember thinking how strange that a robot was built in a way that it could actually gain weight.) ‘He ended up quitting his job a few days ago, and moving to Other World.’

I can’t believe this has happened. I knew I had to travel to Other World, find him and bring him back. I love him, and we are supposed to be together, no matter what happens.

Paris Hilton.

I had sex with Paris Hilton. 
It was nice.

The cockroach invasion.

I’m cycling through town on my way home, when I come across a small gathering of people looking towards the roof of a large building. We’re in an old part of town, and the building is elegant and majestic. What has drawn peoples attention is a collection of huge leaves sprouting from the roof and down the side of the top part of the building, with one leaf being so big it almost covers one of the top floor windows, which is about 1.5 meters high and 3 meters wide.
Myself and a man from the crowd decide to go up there to see if we can have a closer look. Once inside the building, we take a seat on the velvet-upholstered sofa next to the old elevator. The stairs are made of marble, and the whole place exudes grandness.
The man next to me looks to be around forty, with a thin body, red-blonde hair and nice blue eyes. Although he is not my type at all, (for one thing, he looks way too grown-up), I find myself flirting intensely. I move his wedding ring a couple of centimeters, and begin to draw small circles with my finger on his skin, in the place the ring has been sitting for years. Inside me a voice is screaming ‘Why are you doing this?? You’re not even interested in this guy! Think about the consequences of what you’re doing! Where are your morals? Why do you ALWAYS do this??’) But I don’t listen, and I know for a fact that I’ve already made this man seriously consider leaving his wife and break up his family because of me.

After a while we ride up with the elevator in our quest to see the huge leaf up close. When we get to the apartment on the top floor, I ring the bell, and a woman opens. ‘Good afternoon’ I say. ‘Pestcontrol’. ‘Oh thank god you’re here!’ she says, and I think, what a stroke of luck she was actually expecting someone from pestcontrol. Then she looks behind me at the man I’m with, and says ‘Oh hi honey, I’m glad you’re home.’
So THIS is his wife! Ooops.
We walk inside, and the large diningroom with the leaf-covered window is grey and dark due to the sunlight being kept out. When I walk closer to the window, I see the underside of the leaf is covered with slightly raised welts, grey in colour, and I wonder if it has been attacked by some kind of plant-disease. (I know nothing of plants, so I’ve no idea.) When I look closer, it seems to me some of the largest of the grey spots are moving slightly, but think it must be a trick of the light when the leaf moves in the wind. I turn around, and notice the woman has been talking to me: ‘…thought it was the kittens who had a bad tummy, or was throwing up, but they’re fine, and it just keeps spreading, and I’ve no idea where it comes from.’ She looks at me expectantly, while pointing to the corridor. I walk out there, and notice the floor is covered in places with a red, jelly-like substance. It looks really gross. It crosses my mind that it could have something to do with the strange leafs growing outside, as both things are so unusual. But then again, I know nothing about this sort of thing, and decide it is time for me to get the hell out of there, before she starts asking anymore questions. I turn to leave, while explaining that I’ll send someone with more expertise in this exact area, and get myself out the door and down the elevator. I didn’t realize at the time that I’d be back, getting more involved with this family, and the consequences of the red jellystuff, than I’d ever imagined.

A few days later I return to the flat. The woman I spoke to has moved out, and I am now this mans wife, and stepmother to his three children. The leaf is hanging outside the window, with more following it from the top of the roof, and the red jelly-like substance has multiplied, now covering almost the entire floor of the corridor, and spreading into the other rooms as well. The layer has thickened in places raised up to 10-15 centimeters in some places. It is almost impossible to walk through the apartment without your feet touching it.
Rumour has it that the same thing is happening in other buildings around town. Huge leafs outside, red jelly on the floor. But no-one can say anything about where it comes from, or why.

Then people begin to disappear.

And the cockroaches arrive.

The first person that we’re missing in our circle is my husbands oldest son. At first we think nothing of it. He’s 16, and has often stayed over with friends before and forgotten to tell anyone about it, or gone to hang out downtown with lord knows what types of people, and very deliberately not telling anyone. So although we are worried, it never occurs to us that he will not be returning home in a day or two. It also does not occur to us that his disappearance has anything to do with the arrival of the cockroaches.
The cockroaches have come from the red jelly. One day, it began busting open in the thickest places, spilling huge black cockroaches out on the floor. So many more than would actually have been able to fit inside in the first place. They just keep crawling out. They’re everywhere in the flat, and soon enough everywhere in the entire city. We’ve no idea what to do, and no-one else has either. We follow the news on the radio, but the messages are bleak and gives no hope. Experts from all over the world are working to solve the problem, and locate the origins of this whole thing. There is talk of natures revenge, and of invasions from outer space.
In the meantime, we live with it. It’s all we can do.

When we haven’t heard from our boy for 4 days, we begin to get very worried. Especially as reports come through that a lot of people has gone missing, and nobody knows what’s going on.

As more people disappear, the cockroaches continue to grow in number and size. They’re now an average of 50 centimeters long, and they’re EVERYWHERE. It’s impossible to move without touching them. They crawl on floors, walls, and ceilings, out in the streets and on the sides of buildings.
A phrase is beginning to be heard all around the city. ‘Play dead, they won’t be able to see you.’ It’s like a whisper or a breeze, impossible to catch on to to, or understand the real meaning of.  ‘Play dead, they wont be able to see you.’ My husband and I have both caught it several times, but none of us knows what it means.

One day I go to a storage cupboard on the landing outside the flat, just next to the staircase, to look for a broom or some similar device, which I could use to push away the cockroaches from where I walk.
When I get to the cupboard, I notice the door is slightly ajar, and I hear voices. One is deep and gravelly, speaking in a language I don’t understand, full of clicks and strange noises. The other voice is merely a whimper. I lean towards the crack in the door and peek inside.
And there, I see something. It is something I wish with all my might that I had not seen; a sight I would not wish upon my worst enemy in the world.

In the cupboard I see my husbands son, my stepson, who has been missing for many days. I’m just about to burst through the door to him, when I notice the person standing in front of him.
Or, ‘person’ is the wrong way to describe this. This is not a person, it’s a creature. To be exact, it’s a cockroach. But a cockroach the size of a grown man, standing upright on its hind legs.  It is dark orange in colour, and the most evil and disgusting thing I have ever seen. My stepson is standing before him, with a terrified look in his eyes. He looks like he is in deep pain. ‘Please, no’, he whispers. Then in one swift movement, the cockroach leans forward towards the boy, grabs at his throat with its claws and teeth, rips off his head, and throws it on the floor. I stifle a scream, the chock pulsating through my body, almost making me collapse. Then I see that in the place where there once was a 16 year-old boys head attached to a human body, there is now the head of cockroach. It is a bit smaller in size than the orange one next to it, albino-white in colour, and covered in a see-through layer of slime. The eyes are struggling to open, and it’s antennas are still folded close to its head. At the neck, it disappears into the body of my stepson, which is still standing there, and I realize that this body is nothing more than a shell covering the rest of the cockroach, a vessel which has carried the albino cockroach to life. At any minute, the body will burst open, and the cockroach will shed it like a snake sheds its slough.

I am terrified with fear as I run back into the apartment. I call for my husband, but there is no answer. As I frantically run through the apartment, I realize he is missing, along with his two youngest children.
When I reach the room furthest from the entrance, I realize I will never see them again.
I turn to the corridor, and catch a glimpse of a dark orange cockroach the size of a man. I know they’re coming for me, and I am half paralysed with fear. Only one phrase manages to cut through the panic: ‘Play dead. They wont be able to see you.’ At one side of the room there is an arrangement with a low table, and a pile of Moroccan pillows, and fast as I can I throw myself down in a gap between the pillows and the wall, burrowing as far down as possible. I close my eyes, and lie completely still.
I can hear the door creaking, and the gravelly voice, this time two of them. I hear the clicking sound of huge insects feet on the parquet, coming closer.

I play dead, and hope they wont be able to see me.

John Travolta.

A series of dreams from a few years back, three nights in a row.
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#1:
I meet John Travolta at a rehabilitation center for compulsive overeaters, situated at Christiania here in Copenhagen, DK. He is a client, I have a job there as an assistant to one of the doctors. I can tell he's having a hard time, and show my support. He tells me no-one understands him like I do. We become friends, then lovers. It is a beautiful deep relationship, very romantic and full of mutual respect and acceptance.

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I wake up deeply in love.

#2:
John is a nasty piece of work. Instead of a famous millionaire actor, who comes across as a decent type of person, (in my opinion), he is a sadistic redneck type low intelligence pig. We both live in the countryside, though far apart. He comes into my life when he and a buddy of his, same type of low-life scum as himself, rape and kill my 16-year old niece, and I swear to avenge her.
I kill his friend first. When it comes to John, we fight, and end up in a deadlock, our faces very close. We stare at each other, and none of us can move. It's like we're trapped in time, a moment seeming to stretch forever. Then, to my deep shame, I feel myself being turned on by the closeness to him. I feel blood rushing to my lips, which are now aching to be kissed, and without wanting to, I move my face even closer to his. His eyes are so beautiful. He kisses me softly, softly, very brief, just the slightest touch, and it is absolute bliss. I'm falling to pieces inside, it is the most amazing feeling in the world.
Next thing I know, we're totally going for it, having raw uninhibited sex like crazy.

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I wake up completely horny.

#3: 

I'm back living in London, where John happens to be visiting for a few days, to promote a movie.
Of course I now realise that John is not a murderous animal, and it was only a dream. Neither has he been at rehab in Copenhagen, and unfortunately, our loving relationship was nothing but a dream as well. However, fact remains, I am now in love with him. I have no choice but to find him, and tell him how I feel. I know he will think I'm some stalker weirdo, but I have to grab the slight chance that if I manage to explain myself, to tell him of my dreams and how they made me feel, I might pique his interest in some way. I'd love to go on a proper date with him, but then again, he's married, isn't he?
Nevertheless, I devise several cunning plans, ranging from disguising myself as a maid at the hotel he's staying at, to 'accidentially' bump into him, complete with spill of coffee it happens in movies, pretend I don't know who he is, and offer to buy him a drink to apologise.
None of it works. I never get to meet him.
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I wake up full of longing.

The Nanny.

I’m working as a nanny on New York. And I’m having an affair with the man of the house, even though he is married, and I live under the same roof as him and his wife. One day, a new nanny is hired to work in the evenings, when I have time off.

The new nanny is Amanda Palmer.

Before long, Amanda is sleeping with the husband as well. I’ve been spying on them, and know what trick she used to seduce him the very first time. Peeking through an almost-shut door, I saw her strip naked with no preliminaries, turning to the wall while arching her back and opening her legs. She was looking at him over her shoulder, asking him to come and take her. Just like that. So simple. So shameless. I’m furious, thinking what a cheap slut she is, offering herself up like that, taking what is mine.

I do not spare a thought to consider that I myself am acting in a way I should in no way be proud of, and that Amanda has taken from me no more than I have taken from this mans wife.

It also does not cross my mind that I might be jealous of the way she so directly goes for what she wants, with no shame or apologies. And how effective it is.
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I wake up thinking I ought to take more chances, and not being so scared of people thinking badly of me if I ask for what I want. 

New York.

I’m on a ferry going nobody knows where.

I’ve packed my things, taking good care to bring all the clothes and books I’m most fond of, along with a few small reminders of people and places I care about back home.

I’m travelling in a crowd of young people all around my own age, and the general feeling is that of a 6^th grade going on a school trip. Everybody’s mainly happy and excited, but there’s also a touch of unrestrained flirting amongst singles and part of couples alike, leading to drama and bickering.

I myself have already had sex with the young man sharing my cabin, which was lovely but meant nothing emotionally. It merely satisfied a craving.

As days have passed and the ferry not yet reached it’s destination, we begin to worry a bit about where we’re going, especially as the temperature has dropped to nearly freezing point, and no one has been warned about this, and so haven’t packed suitable clothes for such weather. I rifle through my suitcase and end up putting on 3 pairs of tights underneath my shorts.
Some of us have gone to the bridge to spy, and saw the captain studying a map with a clearly marked route going to Antarctica, which none of us are happy about, as we’ve been so unprepared.
Worries prove unfounded though, as the next day, the ferry has docked in the harbour of New York!
There’s a happy, playful mood amongst everyone as we walk ashore.
The party soon breaks up, as not all of us wants to go in the same direction. Nothing has been planned, and nobody seems to be in charge, so everyone can do whatever they want.

Along with a couple of the others, we decide to rent bikes, so we can get around faster, and see more of the city. As we mount and begin cycling, we quickly come to a steep downwards hill, continuing further than we can see. We begin freewheeling, and suddenly it strikes me: ‘Do you realize where we’re going?’ I ask the girl riding next to me, and before she answers, I happily shout ‘We’re going downtown! Downtown New York!’ We quickly come up with a call and response song, where one person sings ‘Are we going to London?’ and the others sing back NO! We’re going doooowntoooown New Yooooork, doooowntooown’, then another asks ‘Are we going to Paris?’ the rest replies, etc etc. The wind is in our hair as we move faster down the hill, we are happy and exuberant.

When we reach ‘downtown’, we leave our bikes and continue on foot. After a few minutes we reach a square where an ensemble consisting only of double basses plays the most beautiful tunes. I run back to the ones who have dawdled behind to grab my friend Henrik, himself a professional double bass player of many years, and pull him to the front, telling him ‘You’re gonna love this!’ And it is indeed beautiful. Around 10 double basses playing the most gorgeous melodies, deep and humming, each of them taking turns to do a solo bit on top of the rest. I listen in awe, and regret I’ve never taken the time to master an instrument.

As night begins to fall, I am no longer with my friends. I know I must figure out how I wish to spend my time here.
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I wake up totally bored with my life, longing to travel and experience new things.
 

Introduction to the dreamblog.

Welcome to my brand new blog of dreams!

Dreaming is what I do best, and I by far prefer my dreamworld to my awake life.

Everything is so much more exciting and surprising, and emotions are so much stronger.
Although there is hurt, hatred and unfairness to a degree rarely experienced when awake, there is also intense love and beauty in measures that doesn't even compare.

A note on my descriptions:
I try as much as possible to keep my dreamstories sharp and to the point, avoiding the whole boring 'it was like, I was there, but then I wasn't really there, and then, there was this thing all around, you know, like a feeling of something, only it wasn't really a feeling, but more like...' and blah -blah - blah.
If something is different in my dreams than it is in real life, ie, if I dream I have a sister who is not my real sister from the awake world, or about a friend who is lovely IRL but really mean in the dream, I will mention it in a footnote. (This is mainly for the benefit of those who know me, so they don't get the dreamstory confused by characters and situations from the awake world.)

I have changes the names of the people I know making apperances in my dreams. This is for the sake of their privacy, (as they haven't asked to be a part of this), but often they'll probably be able to recognise themselves.

I will try to update this blog at least once every week, but if the dreams are too boring, too vague/confusing or if they escape me before I find the time to write, I'll give it a miss.

My dreams are often of a very sexual nature, but I will tone it down where I judge it to be too explicit.

Occasionally I will post dreams from my mental archive, which includes dreams dating back to when I was a kid.

You're very welcome to comment if you have any suggestions of how the dream could be interpreted, if you want to share one of your own dreams, or anything at all really.

Let the adventures begin!

Kat.

Ps, as English is not my first language, I apologise in advance for any expressions or spelling I get wrong.