Tortured till dawn

I had a dream last night which left an impression. Details are, as always, sketchy, but here are the fragments that I remember:

I was in a city I had never been to, and I have recollections of needing to visit a grand temple for some sort of service. Not because I was a follower of their religion, but because I wanted to see the temple in its full glory.

I was in a room –  a kitchen, maybe? It seemed to be part of a dormitory or hostel of some sort. I was sewing messages onto fabric, but doing so at an extremely rapid pace. It seemed as though I was leaving a message for someone. I recall being asked a question about my friends’ religions, and I was making a number of bracelets for each of the different religions – Christian, Sikh, Hindu, Agnostic, Discordian… The bracelet for the discordians initially had the form of an actual bracelet that I once made for somebody, but it was left changed at the end.

The person with whom I was communicating in this strange way was not actually there – I knew who she was, but we had not met face to face. She responded to my messages with one of her own, a beautiful painting of a moon in a red sky. I responded by painting my own picture (which I cannot remember the details of), and then when I looked at the moon I saw a message hand written underneath it. I cannot remember the exact words, but it was to the effect of: “I am confident and self-sure to the point where people consider me vain and arrogant, you will not like me”.

I then found a door into a small room which was filled with paintings, beautiful paintings of people and places, all framed, hung and forgotten. As I looked at all of them I grew incredibly sad and began to weep. I knew I was being foolish, expressing such feeling for paintings, but I could not hold back the tears as I thought of these Incredible pictures – people, places, memories – seen and enjoyed by nobody except the artist.

Then she appeared, and held me and told me it was OK. I laughed and apologised for my ridiculous tears, at which point she kissed me.

I don’t remember what happened next, but I recall being in a car with the girl and two of her friends. We were laughing about ridiculous game-bugs that people had logged onto testing databases (The only one I remember was “The computer is on fire”, which I guess is funny because it’s not a software issue, it’s a hardware issue). I don’t know where we were headed, but looking at my watch, I could see I was late for the temple service…

That’s all I remember. When I woke up, I discovered the tears had been real. The temple I have never seen before. The paintings I don’t recall seeing before. But I know her face.

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