Poet in the Basement

Dream: Undated, sometime in early 2015

I had a dream that I knew wasn’t real. I can’t remember the beginning, but at some point I was sent (banished?) to a beach. When a got there, I was covered in flowers. I brushed them off and started to climb up the dunes. There were ancient, Sanskrit markings everywhere. When I reached the top of the dunes, I realized I was in Auckland but not the current Auckland. I went to my favorite market and everything was different. I realized I had traveled back in time to the 1980s. Eventually I found a bar. There was a poet in the basement. I knew him, but I thought he was crazy. Hermoine (from Harry Potter) and a random guy were with me. They left the bar, but I became enchanted with a hanging teacup with tea and lemon in it. It was beautiful and made of ceramic. At first, I though it was floating, but then I saw a string holding it up. Hermoine came back for me, but when we tried to leave together the way out was blocked by a mangled body. She screamed. I found another door. Outside, we waited to take an elevator. Someone was after us. He had a helicopter. The random guy with us decided to sacrifice himself and led the people chasing us away.


I don’t know if this dream means anything. Apparently, I was struck by the amount of flowers in the dream. I wrote that there were flowers on the beach and in my hair and in the pub. Maybe it has something to do with creativity starting to bloom? I find the poet in the basement pretty symbolic, especially since I thought he was crazy. That’s a definitely a metaphor for how I view my creative self. It’s also interesting that Hermoine is there. She probably represents my analytical, rule following side…


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