This dream from just before 3 AM was of a new kind for me.
The dream opens in a UK city centre where there are lots of old-style shopping arcades. It is late at night. We are very urban and centre of town. The streets are emptying into various nightclubs; there are kebab vans and food stalls.
I find myself in a poorly lit basement nightclub. It is cavernous and with a high specification sound system and light show. There are a lot of people there all much younger than me. The crowd is predominantly white though there are some people from Asian and African origin there. They all consider themselves the “in” crowd. The club is expensive, exclusive and elite.
I am sat in a booth with a tall skinny man dressed in a black goth suit with winkle picker shoes. He has a dyed black “Ramones” style haircut and is holding court. He sees that I am less impressed than others so he slides a small jet black tablet or pill across the table towards me. It is shaped like the male part of a push button fastener and textured on the flat collar.
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He is leaning towards me and in a sense daring me to take it. He holds my gaze for a long time. I reach out and take the pill which I swallow with water. He eases himself back into his seat.
I can feel the pill start to “come up”. There is a bodily sensation of warmth and a sense of pupil dilation. I can feel my heart rate increase alarmingly and then calm. I am at first unsure if the heart will fail, then relax. I do not know what it is that I have swallowed. I feel fully alive almost immortal.
The room changes a little. I can see vividly all the people moving in time lapse and hear all of their conversations above the music. I see their “elite” faces extensively made up and styled as mask-like. Behind their facades I see their true natures. I can see animations of their motivations, fears and desires. It plays out in my mind’s eye. Despite the outer show many are deeply unhappy and some downright nasty.
I can hear some of their thoughts about each other. I see a young woman in a silver tasselled mini-dress look directly at me. I can hear her wondering what an old decrepit relic like me is doing in the midst of the young and the “it”. I can taste a hint of pity. She turns for comfort to those surrounding her.
Around the air, the mood, is of a concealed frantic below the outer show of glitz and hedonism. I realise it unwise to look at eyes because what I see behind is not pleasant nor calm. There is a stark vivid contrast between the outer and the inner.
The skinny man looks at me. I say that for the first time in years I need a cigarette because of what I have seen. In contrast to me he likes what the drug portrays, the darknesses within. It is where he lives and operates. He says that there is a news stand / booth outside which still sells cigarettes.
I leave the club and go to find the booth. I ask for a packet of cigarettes and the woman by the till says they are £20 a pack. I look down into my wallet and it is full of blue money notes amongst which is a £20 pound note.
I hand it to the woman who gives me a pack of cigarettes. I stand and look at the night time economy and its participants out on the streets in the early hours of the morning.
As I awake, I am almost tired by the vivid nature of the dream just had.
The dream ends.
Dreamyoga 