Trippy Dream

Last night I dreamt of my parents again. I fought viciously with them again in the presence of strangers in half-light. I had a bunch of ragged clothes in my hands. I stood there and they were sitting at a picnic table, eyeing me cruelly, smirking with disdain. Not understanding me.

I ran outside to where a yellow ugly duckling car was parked, my female friends with big hair were hanging in the front smoking cigarettes, the boot was open. I dumped my things in the back and felt such a craving and an excitement; I wanted to smoke at least ten cigarettes, one after the other.

Doors slammed shut and we drove away in the yellow car, we drove down lanes with high hedges, we drove past fair-grounds and festivals in England. I looked from the window at the people, they were all in semi darkness, from all walks of life, friends and lovers, men kissing each other passionately.

We sped by in a haze and I felt such sadness and anger. I felt such a need to numb myself out. I laid my head back on the seat, closed my eyes and then I suddenly became aware.

I knew then that my parents were flooding me with love from afar. They were sending overwhelming comfort to me from afar.

I awoke in my Amsterdam bed this morning wondering WTF that was.