Written some weeks ago.
Last night I had a very vivid and colorful dream that I’ll now try to write about. I can’t remember what came first, but I’ll put down the part I’d like to draw;
I dreamt that I was at the graveyard I’m to work this summer. I’d never been there, and for some reason I was really, really late to my first day. I showed up around 11, and tried to find out what happened, if we were working and so on. It turned out that I’d come during the lunch break, so I sat down. I can’t remember if I ate anything, but the room was a typical Norwegian wooden room. Not very calming, brown and pine, like the room we had cake and sandwiches in when the gardener retired last summer.
In either case, we were in this room, and I was really confused and kept wondering what was happening, and when were we working and was there coffee somewhere and shouldn’t I be clocking in? I can’t remember even working or going outside beyond this gravely path/spot where M and O were, two Swedes that I worked with last summer. A young girl was also there, and I thought I’d worked with her too, but she wasn’t nearly as annoying as she’d been in real life. Was it my sister? Was my father there? Certainly my boss was there, and he kept telling me things that I didn’t pick up on. It all seemed rational, but I just didn’t get it, and then it was noon, and then 1 pm, and I still hadn’t clocked in.
So we were outside and it was sunny but too hot and clammy. I felt strange (feverish of sorts, or drunk, and dizzy. I was uncoordinated and couldn’t make up or down of anything). They had tattoos. I remember M (in real life) as having so many beautiful and interesting tattoos all over his body, even on his shins. They’re mostly black and white. O got his first proper tattoo last summer, and it was also beautiful, with a crow and a skull, I think.
O had, in my dream, gotten many, many more tattoos that were really beautiful and full of color. I’d never seen anything like them. Oh, they were so wonderful, and they shone in the sunlight, and I was truly in awe.
The one I can remember most clearly was on his chest. It was a combination of areas of very strong color and text, like someone had painted on him. There were a series of shorter texts, like quotes or something, just sentences. Orange, pink, yellow, green? Yellow like the sun along with a much longer text that I had to get very close to read. I wondered what it’d be like when it got older, and if it wouldn’t bleed out. It was written in a regular typeface, not Helvetica or Times New Roman... Georgia? Trebuchet?
Not quite, but something like that. And it was beautiful.
And actually, when I think about it, aren’t tattoos perfect? Because of skin.
This is something I now need to think and write about.
(Which reminds me to reread Snakes and Earrings by Hitomi Kanehara.)
photos are from I do not remember where.