12.01.23r
09:28 am
I dreamt that I was in Warsaw, but I don’t remember for what purpose. I think it was to visit Mom. I was alone. I was walking along streets with an amazing appearance being a combination of monumental Socialist Realist architecture, sometimes Art Deco, sometimes Brutalist, and all this interspersed with greenery growing, for example, halfway up the buildings on peculiar balconies, faults, pylons, etc. The buildings formed dilapidated masses, with little or no windows with falling off plaster interspersed with dilapidated canels and other ornaments connected by withered greenery with some ice-like elements, and woven into all of this were other such as flat and broken clock faces. There were also bas-reliefs turning…. into drawings of strange proportions. I walked blindly, guided only by a hunch of the sides of the world to myself in Praga. I entered an amazing complex of buildings where the initial part was a structure of pergolas and pillars overgrown, as I mentioned partially in the middle and on top of which was followed by a wide square with a very strange floor and circular water tanks or fountains. The whole thing was monumental, but not by its height what more by the vast distances, proportions and apparent symmetry. It appeared that I had entered an area of military buildings but of the type of offices of generals or politicians rather than ordinary barracks. Somewhere I saw symbols similar to Nat’s, some figures in helmets, and the whole composition seemed to close in forcing me to retreat. At about the height of the aforementioned fountain-tanks, the character changed to a complex of university buildings with a huge square in the middle where I met a “colleague” with whom I greeted on the fly and went on. The street I walked along was vast, with strange decorations in the form of pylons in the shape of a NATO pedestal and a bent palm, in the upper part overgrown with weeds. Surprisingly, there were no cars. The floors of the streets were shabby, decorated with something like mosaic fragments of huge pages of written text, or elements of ornamentation reminiscent of the Doric style. Walking further, I passed a building that was bizarre with a facade that was a mix of Art Nouveau and Socialist Realism, with statues including one with a giant hand thickening, turning into….rysuction. It housed a restaurant of some sort. There were few people around, and if they were, they were dressed in a kind of bundled rags and cardboard boxes shown somewhat through a filter of agitation. The next part of the dream was a New Year’s Eve party also taking place in Warsaw, similarly strange but this time there were elements of ice, orifice, some ruins hooked up to buildings, and the lighting was heavy, muffled, partly nocturnal. First there was the scene just before the New Year’s Eve party where I stood at the bus stop waiting for the streetcar. This stop was overcrowded with people, the architecture was heavy, dark, and the street opposite “disappeared” into darkness or just in general on the other side was darkness instead of buildings. In the crowd I met a friend with whom in the physical world we were supposed to meet, but we didn’t make it, and I had the urge to avoid her due to the fact that I would have to explain myself somehow, but after a while I decided that I would approach her, because in the streetcar we would probably see each other anyway. I don’t remember the conversation, and only a fragment of the situation already inside the streetcar, where there was a silent, sleepy crowd, all in an underexposed space, neglected with an oneiric atmosphere. Then I met up with friends who were also supposed to be at the event. Already at the venue of the party itself, we were in a terribly dark place, where the layout of the tables resembled some kind of zigzag like at a wedding, where most people did not know each other. The host was also unknown, but the “venue” was private in a large house. Further down the line, my friend (actually a doctor) connected with a large syringe to the mouth of her college friend, and inside this syringe they began to exchange liquids on the principle of letting in colorful “clouds.” Their faces were painted in a strange way somewhat reminiscent of American Halloween. This was their intended performance without an erotic background. The guests were generally in very muted colors of brown, olive green, etc. At one point, several people came in painted and dressed somewhat geisha-style, where in one of them, for example, half of her face was black and half was pale white. These characters had incredibly mean and dangerous expressions in their eyes. I was afraid of them. Among one of them I recognized an acquaintance from my college years. They were dressed in a bit of the style of traditional Japanese kimonos in a rather sharp purple color, which made them very distinctive from the rest. After a while they disappeared. The next scene was New Year’s Eve itself where everyone went out on the town. I left everyone and started walking home to Praga. Christopher(name changed) appeared here, that is, an acquaintance from the store where I get my paint supplies. He was slimmer than he actually is and was wearing a much too small jacket. In the course of the “walk” I got lost with him while my Mom and Mark showed up, but I eventually lost them too or we just hung up. I moved as if on skates wearing ordinary shoes. There was a whole bunch of people, but no one was shooting firecrackers and in general the festivities themselves were held without fireworks although you could feel the New Year’s atmosphere. So I was “slipping” on those shoes of mine. The streets were an amazing conglomeration of monumentality, the ornamentation of the lower parts of the buildings, and the streets a confusion of all sorts of decorations, mosaics and ice. In part, they were built of “cat heads.”At one point I passed an open pavilion where there were partially naked hippies, evidently referring to John Lennon and Yoko Ono from the 1960s who were lying on some low elements and just plonking themselves down. They were partially covered in white sheets, long-haired, homeless and identified with the hippie movement, but without the lavishness. Lennon’s music just sounded in the background. It was something even like some kind of artistic event, a complete departure.