Just before waking yesterday:
Walking in a mall in Holland with Julio. Behind him materializes a gigantic beautiful blond who interrupts us. She is at least 7 feet tall, and has a stern Icelandic beauty. “I know you,” she says to me. “We used to play when we were small. I’m Becky Zimmerman” or something like that, but it is three names she uses, and the name is only a dream name, not a real person I know or knew. Perhaps she says I am a cousin. I don’t really recall her, but I say “I vaguely remember you. What’s it been, like 24, 29, or 34 years?” I’m trying to remember how old I am and it’s surprising to realize I'm in my 40s. Julio has disappeared totally. Becky and I sit and chat. Her husband is nearby but I am not introduced. In fact, she sits with me and away from him. We talk, and pull out computers in order to friend each other on FB. She points to the side of her nose near her eyes and says “it’s this area” that helped her recognize me. She has friended me, and I look at her profile and pictures of her two daughters and everyone is smiling and beautiful. I also keep thinking I should bring up our great grandmother, but never do.
On my FB page I only see a silly photo I’d created of me kissing myself(this is only true in dream reality; I never did it in real life, I promise. Though I did laugh at the Max on Max video on the old Conan O’Brian show)—the image was doubled then flipped and pasted together. It’s a close up of myself mashing goatees with myself. She turns away, and I worry that she thinks I’m gay and is offended. I keep trying to get to my profile, but all that comes up are silly pictures of me Photoshopped, kissing male rock stars, male movie stars, etc. I tell her “I’m trying to show you my wife,” but we part after she leaves me some old photos.
I walk off and run into Yahtzee, who has dyed his hair blond, and he is dressed flamboyantly. I don’t recall what we discuss, but it is a chance meeting and we are happy to see each other. His jacket is blue with sparkles and he is wearing tight white pants. We meet near a giant stair and fountain.
Then I am in a bar and suddenly my wife is there. There are also other male friends who are not “real” friends, only “dream” friends. I am looking at the photos my cousin gave me. One is of me at 13 after a haircut, and clipped hair is all over me and I still have too much on my head. Maybe there are a couple of us as children playing. The others are of flowers, and she’s manipulated some of these into artsy images via Photoshop.
We decide to leave the pub but the barkeep says we have to pay a tax on the photos. We explain they aren’t postcards, but then he says we have to pay a higher tax or he will keep them. He gets a stamp to stamp them and a friend goes behind the bar in order to negotiate, but he is going to let them charge us the tax just to get us out without conflict. Then several Dutch men gang up to stamp him on the head and I think we’re going to need to fight to get out of here, and I am surprised and Dutchmen being so rude. Then I wake up.
Dude, I have never so clearly dreamed my anima. I wish I’d had this dream 10 years ago! I need to puzzle out the hermaphroditic/sexually ambiguous symbolism, and I need to ponder why I can’t get the quaternity together (but all four actors appeared individually).