Wednesday, 26 August 2020

Dream journal: Twenty-seven

This is the twenty-seventh in a series of posts chronicling dreams I have had. As usual, the date shown is the date the dream was captured. This is usually the morning after the night the dream took place. You can’t wait very long before capturing a dream because it soon disappears from memory.

12 April

Had a snooze after lunch and dreamt I was writing user manuals for Honeywell, something in real life I did from 1989 to 1992. My brother – IRL a software developer – was in the dream. I was looking for grammatical errors in completed manuals I was scrutinising. In real life I had made the user manuals for the Honeywell Software Centre in Sydney, mainly doing desktop publishing. Once I left to go overseas, to take up a new job, the job of producing user manuals was given to a contractor working for a company I would, almost a decade later, also work for. But I would never return to Honeywell.

In the dream there were dozens of new manuals, some of which were made by people other than Honeywell employees. I carefully checked the publishing details of each manual, trying to discover who had made it and where her or she worked. If inside the company, then at which office. 

All the while it was getting near knock-off time. As each minute passed I was getting angrier with my brother, who was involved in the production of the software. I wondered if I could just let the manuals go through – angry that I, myself, had not been employed to make them – but thought, “On the other hand, if I let one go through and it turns out it has an error, then I’ll be blamed.” 

I was at an impasse, with the desk littered with a boxful of photocopied manuals, each of which had its own colourful printed cover. The range of different designs – a fact due to some manuals having been made by other companies – startled me, and I tried to work out, by examining each manual, who had written it, and where they worked.

30 April

Dreamt I was in a city like Sydney and I had to get home. I thought I knew where I lived and I found an empty cab on the busy street. The driver had open the passenger-side door of his car – which was very dilapidated and beat-up – as it stood at the kerb. I leant in toward the driver’s-side window and asked if I could get in and he said it would be ok to do so. I walked around the back of the cab and got in on the left-hand side of the car, pulling the door shut beside me. 

We moved out into the traffic, which was heavy, and the driver had to get across two lanes so that he could turn left up ahead. I couldn’t tell the driver the name of my street as I had forgotten it. I thought to myself in the dream, “This is dementia. I’m becoming like mum.” Because I didn’t know the street name I had to tell the driver where to turn, but I wasn’t sure of this either. 

As we went along, I gauged the right moment to turn left.

We got off the main thoroughfare onto a residential street that curved to the left. In front of us was a large yellow building with a wall and a gate. It looked like it had been built 100 years ago. We turned left there and followed a street, then I told the driver to do some more turns until, eventually, we came to a quiet thoroughfare. 

I was out of the car then, mindful that I hadn’t paid the driver. I looked back but he wasn’t in sight, so I turned back the way I had been heading and kept walking along the street, which had houses along its left side. On the right side might have been the main road; I thought I could hear traffic.

Eventually I came to a street that I seemed to recognise and said to myself, in my head, “Frederick Street!” I turned left and walked along, with the houses giving way, as I progressed, to shops selling clothes and restaurants. It seemed like a trendy neighbourhood, and I thought that my house was nearby but, still, I wasn’t sure. I kept going down different streets looking for my house but I was always disappointed, and I woke up without having found where I lived.

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