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I typically go years without remembering dreams, but since moving to Amstelveen it's happened nearly every night. They've been intense and often disturbing, but this one is actually keeping me awake here (it was about 5:30 in the morning when I woke), and that's atypical.
It started with a company making a movie that was clearly inspired by the situation of Gary, Indiana, to the point where they'd done interviewing of residents. But the movie focused almost entirely on the past and ignored the real, present experience of the city. I was really upset and ranted at several people I knew about how they should be donating "at least 10%" of their profits to the community. Then I found out they'd just put all of their confidential interviewing materials, like tapes and notes and things, out in the trash. I was livid; I don't remember the last time I was so upset. I rescued all the material and asked my undergrad advisor how to go about filing an ethics complaint with some kind of watchdog organization.
(The fact that this movie is metaphorically similar to my own earlier ruins photography does not escape me. Is there some anger at myself in there?)
The dream took a really dark turn, and the continuity is difficult to explain, as happens in dreams. A male serial murder and a female lover/accomplice were luring women into their home, getting them really intoxicated with multiple substances, and guiding them into delusions that led them to kill themselves while in that altered state. I awoke with a vivid mental image of one victim cutting her wrists open because she was convinced there was some kind of arcane symbol on them that needed to be removed.
It started with a company making a movie that was clearly inspired by the situation of Gary, Indiana, to the point where they'd done interviewing of residents. But the movie focused almost entirely on the past and ignored the real, present experience of the city. I was really upset and ranted at several people I knew about how they should be donating "at least 10%" of their profits to the community. Then I found out they'd just put all of their confidential interviewing materials, like tapes and notes and things, out in the trash. I was livid; I don't remember the last time I was so upset. I rescued all the material and asked my undergrad advisor how to go about filing an ethics complaint with some kind of watchdog organization.
(The fact that this movie is metaphorically similar to my own earlier ruins photography does not escape me. Is there some anger at myself in there?)
The dream took a really dark turn, and the continuity is difficult to explain, as happens in dreams. A male serial murder and a female lover/accomplice were luring women into their home, getting them really intoxicated with multiple substances, and guiding them into delusions that led them to kill themselves while in that altered state. I awoke with a vivid mental image of one victim cutting her wrists open because she was convinced there was some kind of arcane symbol on them that needed to be removed.
