a special one for ellen, but of course it is here for everyone to read

This one is for you especially, ellen, because you were in my dreams (in a very weird way though). I have once told myself that whenever I dreamt of someone concretely, I would contact that person the day after that dream to tell him/her about it. So, here it is. I post it in the echo-chamber, because, obviously, you, Ellen and the echo-chamber are already strongly connected.

I was sitting in a car with elke. I can't remember who drove the car, but anyway, we also picked you up, Ellen, and also your brother (who didn't look like your real brother at all). The plan was to drive to your father and mother (not in their huge house though) because they were rehearsing a play and they wanted Elke and me to be in it. We waited for a long time at a market, then you and your brother appeared carrying vegetables. Next thing I know we are sitting in a room and your father is handing the script of the play to Elke and me and apparently also to a few other people in the room, including my father. Your father (i never saw the real one) was about sixty years old, bald, tanned, with silvery spectacles and frowning eyebrows. He talked in a very gesticulative way. As he had run out of typed scripts before he had given one to me, he gave me his personal one. This script was a special one. It was made of sheets of very light cotton canvas on which the text was written - or better, sewn - with very colorful knitting thread. None of the people in the room, however, had any time to read the script, because there she popped up, suddenly, your 'mother', also in her sixtees, wearing a green dress with trees and flowers, a bit on the fat side, with a strong and determined look in her eyes, and a remote control in her hands. The next moment we sit in a kind of auditorium, at which point I can't remember Elke being there. My father however was sitting a few rows in front of me. The overall feel of the place was kind of a bit like a church, with more people sitting there than before with the scripts. Especially an older woman on one of the front rows catches my attention. I know there are more people, but mainly that woman, my father, your father, your mother and you are dominant in the space.

Then it happens: your mother pushes play on the remote control, and doing this, she sets something in motion, something very peculiar. On a television in front of the people in the auditorium a documentary starts playing. It is about the war in Irak. It discusses it extensively, showing many dead people, until at one point, it goes on to talk about the islam world, about its history, about its present, but most of all about its future. Slowly the documentary evolves into a sort of propaganda film against the islam. Its pouncing and rhythmically more and more repeated message is: the islam is going to kill the world, the islam is evil. My father (he's a socialist and lover of everyone) looks back at me and frowns, trying to ask me 'what the hell are we doing here?'. I try telling him 'I hadn't expected this, we are here for a play, surely ellen will be able to explain'. Then, as the pouncing 'islam is evil' rhythm is gaining volume, the woman sitting in the front row is starting to shake back and forth on her chair, going in a kind of a trance with rolling eyeballs and everything, saying repeatedly 'islamislamislamislam'. Really scary. At which point your 'father' and 'mother' smile a big smile, look at the puzzled faces of me and my father and freeze the image. Your 'father' then says: this is what this play is going to be about: about the islam and about the mutual lover of my daughter and me: Dyonysus. In my dream I can't see your reaction on this, because out comes your 'mother' holding something in her hands which she calls a piece of mouth furniture. It doesn't look good, it really doesn't. This, she says, we will, in order to play the play, all insert in our mouths, like this - and she puts it in her mouth, this metal thing with (scharnieren) to open and close the mouth, and really it doesn't look good at all.
At this moment, in my dream, I decided to open my eyes, which I did. I didn't save the rest of the auditorium though. Then I got attacked by a mosquito.

Voila, that's it. I know it's really strange and I have absolutely no idea why I posted it on the blog.