Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Last day of Berlin

I'm writing this on the last whole day of our Berlin stay,
and the six month anniversary of me and Glenn.

I'm waking up from a night of many great dreams that I wish I had written down, one adventure after the other.
First a fabulous murder-mystery- dream, in black and white and red, red blood. We ran screaming from the palace where the murders
took place and the old people grinned viciously, set in perfect lighting,
clad in glitzy 20's get up's.

Then I competed in an expressive free dance-ish bug contest together with Pirjo from our Nordic tango documentary. We were dressed in black and dancing for our lives.
One dream described the perfect murder that me and my friends committed to some guy - all I know about him is that he had a white t-shirt and black jeans and he had to die. I remember vividly I was changing the bloody sheets on a huge bed in a dusky hotelroom somewhere. Outside it was dark and the waves were breaking
along the shoreline where his empty red car was deserted.
The last one was a jumble of a crowded festival, already eaten mangos, puppys - and cutlery, I think?

PS. It seems that the Germans might prefer Hats of Meat
to Tyskarna från Lund, but then again they might be misunderstood.

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