January 17, 2009
I had another adventure in my dream. There was a wonderful boy (I had just watched Léon), who kept coming over to hug me. I also almost lost Danya; she was just a kitten and kept trying to sneak away all the time… And then there was this incredibly strange and horrifying moment when they brought me a box containing two babies—tiny, wonderful pink babies, but instead of faces, they had wrinkled little faces that turned into long pink trunks. Both of these baby elephants were crying and clearly unhappy about something. And I had no idea what to do with these mutants… I couldn’t just leave them, could I? Anyway, the situation didn’t resolve by the end of the dream. However, I did experience some beautiful, pure maternal feelings toward the boy, who was so soulful… Overall, it was a very strange dream.
January 18, 2009
Today I got married. To an Indian man who looked like a Chinese person. I tried to understand why I married him throughout the whole dream. First of all, I didn’t like him at all, physically, and secondly, I felt completely uncomfortable with him—he was a totally foreign person to me. The cultural difference added to the distance between us. In the first few days of our marriage, we didn’t have sex at all… He wore a goth-style beard, and one day I found him sleeping in bed with his clothes on, even in his shoes. He seemed gentle and maybe wanted something, but as the days went on (in the dream, several days passed), I realized that we needed to break up. The dream ended when, finally, he decided to try making love to me—it was far from sex, though. There were many members of the family walking around (for some reason, I had a big family in the dream). After we finally managed to do something, I was so empty and disoriented that I firmly decided to give him the boot and divorce him, especially since I never imagined what this person was doing next to me, let alone as my husband. I found him as he was getting dressed and told him that we needed to part ways, that we were too different, and nothing was working. He seemed strange, even looked strange, and said that he was going to the airport to fly away. Later, I found out that this was some man pretending to be my husband, while the real husband was locked in a closet, zipped up in some clothes bag, trying to scream but couldn’t because he had a gag in his mouth. I took him out of the closet—he was very light and small—and unpacked him. In that moment, I felt so sorry for him that I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I was divorcing him. I called detectives to catch the fake husband, who had just left for the airport. And that’s where the dream ended.
February 12, 2009
Once again, I dreamt I was flying to Moscow, home. I was picking up some books, candy, and little jars from my house. I saw beautiful landscapes, and then suddenly, people were chasing me with knives. I’m not sure what they wanted, but they threw knives at me. Luckily, they missed, so I picked up the knives and kept running. I caught a taxi—a mini-van—and there were passengers in the back seat: a big guy and a little dog with half-human features on its face, a strange snout. And, of course, I forgot my green card at home. I was walking to the subway, wondering how I’d get back. My passport was expired, and I didn’t take any clothes with me. As usual.
February 22, 2009
Once again, I dreamt that I was flying to Moscow. This time, I tried to get into my apartment, and later, while I was sitting there, I wondered how to get into the one where we lived before the apartment swap. I thought some of my things were still there.
When I was flying back, they didn’t want to let me onto the plane because I had allegedly insulted the airline representatives and caused trouble on the way there. This wasn’t true, and there was no reason to deny me boarding. But I still didn’t understand whether I actually flew back to the States or not…
That (three-room) apartment often appears in my dreams. It’s like I left something behind or forgot something. Sometimes, I dream that the apartment is exactly how I want it—furniture is arranged properly, the closet isn’t stuffed with old junk, everything is logical and neat. Recently, I dreamt of our old apartment with an old 1970s-style floor lamp and a bar beneath it. My father really kept bottles and glasses there. In my dream, I saw that the bar now had some of my mom’s things…
After my mom passed away, I used to dream for a long time that she had resurrected. It was like she had been somewhere, and then suddenly returned, back with me. Sometimes, in those dreams, she lived somewhere else, as though she had taken offense at me and rented a room, living by herself. Not that she was particularly happy. But she did it because she didn’t want to live with me anymore…
In this dream about the floor lamp, there were her things in the bar. There was a New Year’s tree nearby with handmade decorations. And a printer that had tons of photos of both my mom and me, which don’t actually exist. There was a persistent feeling that my mom had died in that room she rented in another dream, and that these things were the remnants of the things that surrounded her in that room…
I went out onto the balcony, and hanging out there, drying in the rain, were leather bags pinned to strings with clothespins. It was very strange, as if all of it was happening for real, as it often feels in dreams.
I woke up—there was no floor lamp, no mom. But the reality of that dream felt so real!