If I don't record the dreams or their "keywords" they float away completely leaving just a shadow, a reminder that they existed but giving no clues to their substance.
So here is the dream I had on my 5th night in Antigua.
Jag and I were detectives of some sort though we were not in uniform. We were in the office when we got a phone call tipping us off about a string of unsolved murders. There is a man who is an expert at concealing body parts, so we must follow this clue.
We drive in an old jeep to the house which is dark and crumbling. The second floor looks like it's about to fall off onto the street, thoroughly unsafe for habitation. There is a man standing out front shouting.
As we get closer I realise it's M but he is in his 60s with completely white hair and a deeply lined face. He is shouting at his neighbour - and you! you never help me with anything! I need to dig a hole and you just disappear!
We introduce ourselves and show our badges. He looks at us with hardened and murky eyes, as if all the soul has gone out of them. He asks us to excuse him for a moment while he gets changed as he is dressed inappropriately for talking to police.
Jag and I have a brief discussion as he heads into the house - we agree that I should follow him to see what he does. I creep into the house, trying to make little noise. It's not hard to hide as there are so many shadows everywhere. I see him looking under a bed (or is it a counter? everything is so crammed it's hard to tell) for something. He fetches a shoebox and puts it on the bed, then walks away.
Instead of following him I go to the shoebox and open the top. Inside it is a dead rat with a fetid smell. Shocked, I drop the lid and follow him up the stairs. He is rummaging through the cupboards, a small plastic bag of shiny crystalline white powder tied around his wrist. He hums and sings as he digs, seeming ridiculously jovial.
Ah-ha! He cries. I found it!
Hiding behind the door, I'm not sure if he knows I'm there, but he seems unperturbed and keeps talking to himself.
That stupid idiot, he wouldn't help me destroy the evidence, and now I have to do it myself.
With that he turns away from the cupboard and in his hand dangles a live rat, trying to struggle away.
I gasp and wake up.
So here is the dream I had on my 5th night in Antigua.
Jag and I were detectives of some sort though we were not in uniform. We were in the office when we got a phone call tipping us off about a string of unsolved murders. There is a man who is an expert at concealing body parts, so we must follow this clue.
We drive in an old jeep to the house which is dark and crumbling. The second floor looks like it's about to fall off onto the street, thoroughly unsafe for habitation. There is a man standing out front shouting.
As we get closer I realise it's M but he is in his 60s with completely white hair and a deeply lined face. He is shouting at his neighbour - and you! you never help me with anything! I need to dig a hole and you just disappear!
We introduce ourselves and show our badges. He looks at us with hardened and murky eyes, as if all the soul has gone out of them. He asks us to excuse him for a moment while he gets changed as he is dressed inappropriately for talking to police.
Jag and I have a brief discussion as he heads into the house - we agree that I should follow him to see what he does. I creep into the house, trying to make little noise. It's not hard to hide as there are so many shadows everywhere. I see him looking under a bed (or is it a counter? everything is so crammed it's hard to tell) for something. He fetches a shoebox and puts it on the bed, then walks away.
Instead of following him I go to the shoebox and open the top. Inside it is a dead rat with a fetid smell. Shocked, I drop the lid and follow him up the stairs. He is rummaging through the cupboards, a small plastic bag of shiny crystalline white powder tied around his wrist. He hums and sings as he digs, seeming ridiculously jovial.
Ah-ha! He cries. I found it!
Hiding behind the door, I'm not sure if he knows I'm there, but he seems unperturbed and keeps talking to himself.
That stupid idiot, he wouldn't help me destroy the evidence, and now I have to do it myself.
With that he turns away from the cupboard and in his hand dangles a live rat, trying to struggle away.
I gasp and wake up.
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