Aw man, two weird dreams in succession, in one night. They're so transparent, it's almost comical.
** First dream **
I was still M to my XH. He had done some sort of performance (music, I think), had left the performance space, and I was backstage helping to clear up what he'd left behind (bit like a roadie). There were some other people there helping as well, but they were a bit in the distance and everyone was doing their own bit of tidying.
State: slightly anxious.
I was helping clear/move some cardboard boxes that I thought contained some of his stuff. One box was was quite flat and very long - a bit like what you might be able to fit an electric guitar into.
The box was quite tattered. The lid came off, and I realised it was empty. Just some dust inside and a few bits of balled up gaffer tape.
I remember feeling confused, and then angry - why was I spending my time doing this?
** Second dream **
I was walking through the basement of a building. It was quite a large basement, a bit like you might see in a film, with big rooms and strip lights above. I somehow knew that it was an old, well built, substantial and solid building above me.
I was following someone else (no idea who, and I couldn't quite see them as they were a bit ahead of me).
State: quite calm, and just following the person in front.
I was looking from side to side as I was walking along, and realised there were boxes round about me. They did't have lids, so I could see what was inside them quite easily. And they weren't obstructing my path or anything, they were quite neatly organised, and I could walk very easily along where I was going. Just that when I looked inside one as I was passing, it seemed to be full of useless stuff. Not old, or dusty, or junk. Just useless, half used stuff. And I remember thinking 'why would anyone want to keep any of this?' and feeling confused. I didn't feel anxious or stressed - a little detached, if anything. And genuinely confused.
****
Now, I've dreamt about boxes before. About 23 years ago, after I'd fallen out with my dad and stopped talking to him (haven't talked him since), I remember dreaming I was in a house, in a room. It wasn't a basement, but higher up, maybe the first or second floor.
The room was quite old and a little dusty. The shutters were half closed/half open and you could see the dust hanging in the air from sunlight that was coming through. The room felt quite calm and still and wasn't cold. I knew the sunlight outside was warming the room to a normal temperature.
There was a very elaborately carved chest in very dark wood, right in the middle of the room. The carvings were all very, very dusty, with years and years and years of accumulated dust. It looked strange and like a foreign object, I somehow knew it wasn't my chest - that it didn't belong to me.
I knew I was curious and wanted to open it to look inside. I thought it would be very difficult to open because it was so old and had obviously not been moved or disturbed for many years. But when I tried it, it just seemed to open very easily, like the hinge on the lid was very well oiled, and it just fell open. That surprised me.
When I looked inside I realised that it was crammed full of junk and broken, unless stuff. And I was disappointed.
