1.2 Corona Times in Valladolid (Spain). 2020-04

1.2.1 Presidential diarrheic advice. The need of UBI (2020-04-10)

8.40

Not all dreams are easy to understand. Not everything is so obvious, even if it looks obvious. It is my second night in Spain, the first in Valladolid. Last time I was here was January. It was Christmas. It is my family house, and somehow, now is my house as well. It has to be. Supposedly, I have to spend here, at least, the next 15 days here. I have to spend the following weeks in Spain, in Valladolid, in this house. And today, I dreamt with Pedro Sanchez, the president of Spain. I dreamt he manifested somewhere, online or offline, his willing to communicate with me, that he appreciated my advices, my comments and my insights. I was okay with that, and then, I found myself walking around the center the town, on the main square. There, I met him. He was coming back from work, from the city hall, maybe.

We started talking, and I told him what I thought last night before start reading Hesse’s Steppenwolf: “I wouldn’t like to be the president of my county at all”. He is probably suffering every night that he goes to sleep, he is probably quite stressed, to see how the country is crashing, how people are dying, how difficult is to manage everything in this situation. I told him that advising politicians was okay for me, because one can give an input in the system without having the responsibility of the outcome, of the situation. Besides, it was surprising how people can assume machiavellianism in politicians. They are probably doing their best with as much knowledge as they can. If not, it wouldn’t make sense that they are actually trying to save lives. I don’t know. I wouldn’t get it then.

Anyways, in the dream, we met in the main square and he mentioned that he had to go to Madrid every day. I suggested him that it could be more convenient to move closer to the train station, to have less commuting time. After a bit of chitchat about his life, with me, empathizing about his situation, I asked what he wanted from me. He mentioned that he wanted my advice, something like a What would you do in this situation? type of question. I somehow started thinking out loud while we were walking towards the train station. I don’t know why we were walking there, maybe because he was leaving, or maybe because he was accompanying me. Not sure.

It was interesting that, on the way, he was stopping several times to shit on trees, and wherever he could on hidden places of the streets. It seemed that he didn’t care at all. He was dressed elegantly, with jacket and trousers. And when I was looking at his face, he had the face of one of my friends, one that is always claiming to know everything concerning politics, one that is always updated about the latest political detail, and that is quite opinionated about the world. Nevertheless, one that is commonly wrong about what he says, or at least, holds extremists, biased viewpoints, or is blind to alternative interpretations.

We were walking and he kept on stopping from time to time to shit. Then, while we continue walking, some people looked at him, judgmentally, making comments, and realizing that he was the president of the country.

At a given moment, I realized that instead of thinking out loud and showing Pedro Sanchez that I actually didn’t know much about anything, I opted to remained silent, talking to myself, listening to my thoughts, and trying to look smart. After a while, and just before waking up, one of the things I told him clearly was: “Universal basic income”.

Today, considering that 15 minutes of automatic writing have gone already, that is the only lesson of the dream: “Universal basic income”. I will do a bit of research what does it mean that the president of a country seeks for one’s advice, and that he is with a shameless diarrhea while walking on the street.

Although I didn’t watch the news yesterday, I was reading Aljazeera and Financial Times before going to sleep, and there is where I found this two articles about UBI. Those two combined with my communal narcissism and that moment of empathy with Pedro Sanchez before going to sleep probably made a good mix in my REM sleep 6 hours later. Diarrhea is, after all, another symptom of Covid-19

Enjoy your day and protect yourself.

1.2.2 Trains, frozen fridges, and loneliness (2020-04-24)

8.38

Today, I know it is pointless.

The past is mixed. In my dreams, I can be on a sort of campus, maybe Salamanca, trying to go training/dancing, planning to be late, to arrive walking. But suddenly my mother appears, change my plans, and indicate to me that the train station is over there and that I can arrive faster if I take the train. We go there, but none of us know the route. She tries to figure out the route checking up the schedule and maps. I am impatient, and I see trains waiting, arriving, and leaving. I tell her that is best strategy is to improvise, to take one train, the first that comes and then go to the central station and from there figure out how to go to our destination. All trains towards the city usually go to Central Station. But Salamanca didn’t have trains. Those are the trains of Copenhagen. I have to take the F line, the purple one⁷. But we go up in several trains that are incorrect, people tell us to get off, and the ticket reviewer is too close, so we cannot take the correct ones. We let some of the correct ones go without us for the paralysis as well. We are both confused. And my mother is not actually my mother, it is Sh. the unfinished loved of the university, one of them.

Somehow, we separate from each other, and I decide on the way to not go training, to go home. Ari, the wanna-be popular girl in the class at the university is in my place. It seems that we are flatmates. Sh. appears there as well. We are also flatmates. I asked her if she got to her destiny, and if she has plans for the evening. It is Thursday evening, and again, I don’t have anyone to go out with. Sh. starts to recriminate me that I am not explaining myself, and I told her that it could have been a good plan if I would have gone dancing and then we would have met outside after her logopedic course. We could have gone together for a drink. But she is telling me that I hadn’t asked her before, that I had make up the plan without her and that she has plans already. But she is treating me like a stupid, like trying to explain something that is very obvious, that she has explained to me many times in the past. I am very confused. She is aggressive, and I was just trying to be nice and friendly. Feels like I am in the last year of university, trying to meet and hang out with my classmates from the first years, but all of them have their stuff, their lives, their friends. Ari, my flatmate, is also without plan, she is also sort of alone. While we are discussing, I am sort of unfrozen the refrigerator. Sometimes Sh. speaks with me and I am inside the fridge, looking at her speaking from the door. Sometimes, it is her the one that is inside the fridge, like speaking from the other side, with a range of foods and cans of beer in between.

It is too late for some people. It is too late for trying to fix a past that is frozen, for trying to speak with people that are gone, for trying to recover relationships that never existed, or they just existed for me. No one is going to come to explain to me what happened, why they left, what I did wrong. It doesn’t matter how far I can get; some people will never be back, even if they hear about me. Those are frozen somewhere inside me, inside this time and space, so far ago that the past is starting to mix, that those things that once formed reality are starting to melt into each other, to get frozen later in a mess of anecdotes, moments, and settings that are unrelated, very difficult to disentangle, very complicated to just merely discern and make up my mind about what is there. Very difficult even to just describe them, much less to explain the link of causes and consequences that led me to a certain outcome.

I have been always alone. And sometimes it seems that the more I grow the more alone I am. But sometimes it seems, that the more I live, the better friends I find. It is contradictory. How my goals have pushed me so far away from love. How loved I felt at certain moments, when I didn’t care much about my situation, but how prevalent and pervasive have been the moments where I felt disconnected from everyone, disconnected from life.

I need people so much. I just know how to improvise when I am by myself, otherwise, I often screw it up. I don’t know when to make plans, because sometimes is too early, and sometimes too late. I don’t know how to ask someone out, because deep inside, I don’t want to go out, I want to stay in, together. Somehow, no one taught me how to socialize, and somehow, I ended up living by myself, trying to figure out how I ended up here, me that I used to be an open and friendly pal. Maybe too open, maybe too friendly.

Anyway, at my parent house, with the security of a family that is condemned to accept me at my worst, and with the thought in the back of my mind to put my stuff in a backpack, and just leave for good, it is easy to placate the stories of miseries. However, dreams don’t lie, and all those feelings and moments always appear catching one in their vulnerable states of consciousness, just to raise the question about whether this is what you wanted all along, or you just have learned to adapt magnificently good to an okayish situation.

Seems that the only redemption left is writing. So, I do. Waiting for you at the other side of the fridge, or maybe still struggling to cross it.

1.2.3 Destructively good and escape with fruits. 2020-04-25

9.21

We were at the scouts. There were a lot of leftover fruits. Apples, mandarins, and bananas. There was also a piece of cake in the co-pilot glove box in the car. We were coming back from the camp. Going home.

One of the previous scenes has been the collection of that fruit, where there has been a sort of encounter between the force of good and evil. The apparently good has never had to take everything, always wanting to share what he had and even rejecting pleasures for himself. The apparently bad was pursuing control. She wanted to be in charge of the situation, controlling how things were done and how they evolve.

We had to go down several floors in the dreams. Travel to the underground. There, they good and evil characters were left before we return home. They were sort of dead or sleep. Each of them had different elements. And reading some scriptures, we could see that the apparently good had a last wish of not having all the resources once dead. Thus, someone, maybe me, took one of his resources (I think it was 6 dices, one located with a different number). Thus, the number one was given to the other character (the apparently evil). But the moment one of the dices was withrown from the self-sacrifice man, and given to the other, so she could rule on that kind of world, the man became a sort of angel of fire, like a dragon, and starts spitting flames of fire all around the underground.

We escape, and go up. There, the presence of that angel of fire is still sensed. He is coming, so we need to rush. We collect all the fruit possible as soon as we can and we leave with the presence of the fire and destruction coming closer and closer.

The people that are with me are Rufino, an old classmate and scout mate, and Juan, a friend from the Scouts. We arrive to the car, then we leave with the huge bags of fruits which are for sharing and giving to everyone. However, there are too many fruits for so little people. Bus somehow, it was the right things to do, since otherwise, the fruits would have been destroyed by the fire of the angel.

Sincerely, I don’t know. I hope it gets some meaning in the future.

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7. Actually, the purple line is the E. The F is the yellow, the one I take when I go visit my Danish friends/family. But the purple one was the one when I used when was living in Gentofte (2015).↩