Topics related to Sophia and doughnuts keep appearing in my dreams.First of all, a hearty thanks to those readers who recently took part in the democratic process by voting in my poll. It's nice to know that I can get quick results by laying down a guilt trip every now and then, and that at least a couple people out there are paying close attention. I am forever grateful.
Also a note: seeing as how I have a relatively big following here in Germany (operative word being 'relatively'), I want to be sure all of my loyal readers know that it's okay to make comments in German. If you're bothering to read through this and have something important to say, feel free to say it in your language of preference. I will have the
Berlinquiries translation staff provide me with an English approximation as quickly as possible.
But anyway, I write today not to simply heap praise upon those who await my every written word like the conclusion of a murder mystery novel, but, as always to share a couple of novel stories and anecdotes I have heard and experienced over the past couple of weeks, which I hope you will find most amusing.
Sex, lies and Legos: Between Sophia's occasional crying and my own nocturnal preferences, I've had a bizarre sleeping routine as of late that has contributed to some -- what I consider at least -- entertaining dreams and pre-dream thoughts. While I'm sure many of the readers of my 'blog' would also qualify for some sort of Freudian analysis, I find that my dreams and bedtime thoughts (when I can remember them) are usually the stuff of high drama. Take, for instance, a dream I had shortly after arriving in Germany. In this particular sleepy pondering I found myself meeting a good friend of my wife's (who shall remain anonymous until further notice) for a casual afternoon of ice skating. However, upon my arrival to the slippery surface, I found my wife's good friend clad in a professional speed skating body suit; wearing my normal jeans, shirt and jacket, naturally I was ill-prepared to race and was quite quickly left behind.
However, my recent dreams have had more to do with my daughter Sophia, or issues directly related to her. The other night my mind managed to convince me that I was somehow involved in a toy building-block related intrigue, where the makers of Duplo building blocks were pitted against the makers of Lego (although I think in reality they're owned by the same company) in a high-stakes blood feud for market share and economic viability. The actors in my dream made very little explicit, although I had a pretty good sense of what was happening implicitly. The highly decorated interiors of expensive hotel rooms barely concealed the scandals and abusive relationships between the various toy manufacturing executives. Glasses of champagne; blood-red lipstick; finely upholstered furniture; daggers; mysterious women in elegant evening wear; red, blue, yellow and green bricks scattered here and there. It was kind of like a
James Bond film crossed with
Wall Street and
Bob the Builder. I can't tell you what all happened exactly -- mostly because it's too steamy and violent for this PG rated 'blog' -- but I can assure you that it was all very vivid and it was one of those dreams where when I awoke, it took several minutes for me to realize that it didn't actually happen.
Anyway, I have this other dream that's reoccurring -- which isn't technically a dream because I always have it before I fall asleep -- where I swear I can smell the doughnuts from the bakery down the street from where I grew up as a boy. They were very good doughnuts.
Interpretations, anyone?
S-Bahn incident: Speaking of the bizarre, I witnessed something on the S-Bahn last week that was about as surreal as one of my dreams. As my most loyal readers know, I have to go back and forth between Potsdam at least once a week, with necessitates a train ride of about an hour. On this particular journey, there was apparently some kind of commercial or scene from a comedy being filmed. I'm not at all sure what the meaning of it all was, but there was a guy wearing a chicken costume without the head (which he carried around with him under his arm) accompanied by another guy wearing a dog costume. Chicken and dog would walk down the center of the train while actually eating real pieces of chicken, pause to put some chicken in the mouth of the dog costume (most of which feel to the floor) and then continue walking toward the camera. They apparently weren't very good actors (which I'm sure you'll find surprising), as the crew had to re-shoot the scene several times.
I was laughing to myself quite a bit, but the really strange aspect about the experience was that I was the only one in the almost full train that seemed to find any of this slightly amusing. Across from me a grandma kept trying to get her two grandsons to look out the window -- "look at the trees, boys!" -- and all the while there are two (apparently poorly paid) grown men wearing animal costumes walking here and there. The other passengers would look up but not say anything, and would certainly not smile. Was I the only unpaid extra or something?
The race is on to see who will be the historic 501,000th visitor to the "blog."
