Publications

Dream Preface

UKSFU Press Presents

( soft cover )
( paper back )

dream diary
in the comp.
of Ingeborg Houwen

first print / the collectors item
70 pages Short Adventure Stories
for the Alfa bête, age 6-66

CODEX
all rights reserved

Dream

Snow White - the Walt Disney version - cries tears of blood, whilst a dwarf is being dissected. The hand and it's glittering instrument operating the anchovy size man are visible. The face behind the internal structures examining, stays out of the frame. I lay down the picture. We are in an open class department sitting in a U form constellation of tables and chairs . In the middle, boys are testing their toys. I am back into Industrial Design, teaching the forbidden force . It's even nicer this time. We all know what I have been asking for, but the students give me : a mountain bike.
I applaud.
"It doesn't really fit your concept,' the experimental psychologist cheers loudly.
"But wait till it talks back," I reply, "A cognitive bicycle is a very very probable design, bravo."
Noise breaks out every where. It's pause, and we are supposed to descend. Towards a canteen. I make an effort to follow, find the traffic too overwhelming, and stay behind . I am attracted by a simulated store full of audio visual equipment featuring models of new television programs. Something looks like a new news program. Featuring real people, so it seems. And I thought they didn't do human representation any more, except for imitating old game shows. To relax I undress and take position on a swing. Whilst swooping, I hear the boys coming back. Doctor Expert hasn't tempered his frequency.
"It's a Jean Faber," he shouts, "Of course we can't take it."
My syrinx lolls.
I know he talks about the author of the video program. And am surprised that he knows Jean Faber, the experimental stage artist, now obviously in a tele parody mode ?

Dream : science before electricity

The Agent reveals a giant ( wall sized ) wooden - framed black board, unwritten , and localizes where I am , up front in class . Behind his pointer he wizards a ' mock ' and hands it over to me , who mute and primary at first tends to put it at her lips , but thanks to eye sight makes up her mind : there are about 3 drops of content inside the cup ; this isn't coffee , this is a distillate. The space is equally very high and very dark , and to elaborate further improvisation is needed . Skillfully I bring over the cup to the window , to under the day light and with extra instruments made of Glass , study the brew , exactly . The Agent must approve of this behavior , and guides the way to a prototypical block for experiments , that on second thought looks a lot like a House Wife's kitchenette . Peanut butter sandwiches in their Latin names are being prepared by a workgroup under guidance of a well known actress . They may look like infatuated house wives , what is being practiced here is : Science before it was sold to Electricity .

dream : the performance production

            His unmistaken figure swiftly runs the streets of the City , that in this current state , of being broken open , more and more begins to look like any Dutch hometown, somehow : reduced to the natural underground of Sand, the picturesque architecture .. indeed becomes more picturesque than something real ( to live in ) , ponders my mind, as I follow him , like Alice the White Rabbit : A typical Service for Food Preparation, performed by an old man and a kitchen machine, offered in the middle of some ( now Functional ) space , stops the inner word bleeding , and brings it back to the cherished daily life.
            ' Darling, shall we have the dinner meat prepared here , and then eat it at home .. or ?'
            An unusual second layer of consciousness , in the form of the Dream 's over-voice, lets me know, that the Taboo King only returned because of the production, not for me . Back in the streets, he - in the order of working
            men - orders the trucks to lay on their side . Like dinky toys the play - mobile - boys bring their horses or pregnant wives on their knees, so to speak : a beautiful perspective for the camera , seeing mommy naked for the first time ( lets say ) : sand in their tired wheels , walls becoming flanks : so vulnerable . Not enough time to enjoy the metaphor , as life devices in sound bring in more life characters in the play. ' Aryan is concerned Ingeborg might be abducted by the Tattoo King, ' and ' S. * sits in the underground dressing room, preparing to come up' . On the stage of the street ?

dream : the Prince prince

The ( after ?) party was in a small surfaced, three storied , apartment, and when I descended the inner stairs, the prince outshone, everything and everyone, by giving a small, improvised concert, that was such an amazing experience, that Nature before I knew it, made me kiss him, on his mouth ?! The party was ruined, for me, But here's what happened with the prince . The heaven of his mouth, plucked a sound from the ether , that, no doubt before had been an atmosphere spinning on the tip of his finger, to send it out as audible light, by his eyes, clearly addressing mine, on the following line, that was repeated until I ended it, in a pitch majoring up as if the castration was taking place live : You are the one who loves . .

dream : being the female

My friend and I had to get there, by walking over tree trunks in the floating river . We had our doubts ; it was dangerous . Later, I might have become Maria Magdalen, because one of the guys was addressed at as 'Jesus from Nazareth', in a very professional voice . They were checking the supermarkets . I was offered to taste a sweet . But kindly refused .

dream : new years job

Had to be there at 7 in the morning , arrived with outfit in bags , and locked my self up in the toilets , to change. The Chief came in and tried the locks , of course, and since she was to be interviewing me , I gave away my state. Ah, ( here You are!), she said, you must have a hangover from the National Party last night . No, I said, truthfully . But the Chief stayed in the Collective Morning After Attitude, showing me her worn out face , and making me feel all needed ! Meanwhile I'd put on all the layers, wearing 2 concepts at the same time, and for opening starters discussed the very id, with the coming colleagues, up front in the mirrors. But it wasn't a or b to either one of them : sweater plus corset was .. fine. The true opening speech was boiling up now. Hi , my name is Ingeborg, I worked with JOFFS, in the first installation, which we tested all over the world. But the sentence got stuck, when entering the work floor. The colleagues with their dozing bodies were operating cash desks to make cash accounts and continuously sell stuff in the costumer loaded supermarket . . In one of the shopping corners , strippers annex thieves were being body-scanned by well trained and uniformed police agents. They looked stunning in their rubber disco sport outfits, arms in the air and stolen jewelry openly attracting the x-rays. The warmth of my amazement caught the eye of one officers glance. A TV editorial over voiced a sad case of degenerated lions caged . I feel closer to disgust-ion than sadness thinking about the yellow cavities in their once iron white dental weaponry , it said.

dream : permanent exhibition

Some vague but very large space was painted white and turned into a gallery , exhibiting nothing but white paper plates applied with black and white letters. It looked nothing to me, but one of the staff members, cleaning the floors in between opening times, convinced me it was a very famous exhibition that traveled all over the world, for ever. It was a permanent installation, but of what ? Then I discovered a plate with the names of my aunt and uncle and grand father and grand mother on it . It felt like a shock , but I did not know what it meant. Over and over again I tried to decipher the sentence that curled around their names without speaking to me. Associations whirled up , and all in an accusing direction , with a dark load. Surely they hang there because of something bad ? I tried to talk about it with one of a the curators. He showed me the back of this tongue, and throat, that came with an odor . But didn't make me any wiser.

dream :

I was invisible , as ever, but not to her . She was curled up, in an unwilling posture, and that had everything to do with me . We were negotiating . The tense atmosphere reached its liberation point in the next space . Light, Wind, Movement: a lonely island, with: a small dwarf-like canal-house on it, also ! A Step Gable, in the Pacific Ocean. Leaning from its windows: young alive dance folks , waving at us. The next spot , standard in this successful international exchange project , that was obviously taken place in a Dutch colony , lead to the Host's house. The ocean babbled with fresh appointed waves , as I absorbed with much enjoyment through a modernist glass-wall , when out of the waterfront up on the chalk cliffs it entered . At first it appeared as an X-rayed picture; a blue paleolithic animation more then an animal . Love for it cried out in me : the large eyes , the snouty beak , its sweeping underwater worldly movements . Locals feed my affection , by opening the window . I objected , my love had been abstract and distanced . But there it creeped in , and , as it crossed the border from outdoors to indoors , also its colors and texture changed . It was green , and wet , with , when the beak opened to breath , seaweeds drooping . I'd fallen in love with a crocodile !? I begged my environment, to chase him back to where he belonged , but a small parade started marching into town . On top of the village stairs , Joris was bitten , in the waste , and bleeding to death. Slightly egoistic my only bodily impulse was to scream hard and loud. In the next moment, on a terrace, the international partners were discussing what had happened. It was a pretty couple, by the way, made for live moments like this. Joris got what he deserved , their conclusion, and the argument included final logical judgments. He always, this and that. Shall we eat french fries, some one then asks.

dream :

L. the Mysterious Partner visited studio . On a chair sitting in front of our mirror . I was in the files , field- working with Joop . None of this ( theatre ) was interesting to her, and the dream is about travel having no time, no space. Our tram literally - she : ' U mean geometrically ' - flies us uptown, a marvelous journey, through trees, entering green , chopping off branches . But again, no time for even landing in the temple of culture: Travel was in a hurry, even if warm bathes were prepared , and I geometrically had to fall through the layers of architecture, and still she managed to have left off . . ! But nice here . Slowing down the pace, an initially pleasant sensation was negatively mirrored, by Outcasts . A young handicapped mother praised Danish courses . Public transport drove me back . In a second version: L. picks me up in a van . She has adapted to our software, and cries out bitterly , not afraid in the matrix 's field of transgression . I can't help noticing how the metal in her face is able to cry along. Franciene comes in with a glass of tea. I hope this works.

dream: jerusalem , berlin , amsterdam

hard to describe first location ; air kept c / old in between thick layers of very old stone, where you step in , through most cutely proportioned gates ; an old
' church ' or some ancient site , had turned into.. yes?! ... an art exhibition . It was this postwar feeling of high energy , without printed flyers claiming the atmosphere design . And so , a crowd of individual strangers were bound to meet . Somewhere in the dark corridor , I met this older man , small , distinguished beard , who opened the palm of my hand , and exhibit there a very special coin . It was the new money, he told me . I admired or rather adored the shape : the new money came very comic, in the shape of a flat foot ?! Now, he told me , we are new here , in town ; so if we need some advice , where to go to , et cetera , you tell us . Next thing Martin turned the new money into a sort of wonder bra for me to wear . Martin was busy in architecture , by the way , only thinking about form , and material. On clouds , half way attracted , half way invited , half way because that's where I was , a whole string of wonder bra idiots entered a fancy restaurant , to sit with Monseigneur coin designer , all on top of each other , because not enough space . It smelt good : home made food .
Berlin was much bigger, we were toured around : impressive, but very passively also. And now, the mechanic guide told us , now you are going to fly . We were in this train, this extra high speed train , flying around mountains , expecting a loop , to fly over. . ?! It was scary , and happily it delivered me into yet another space : an old ( Dutch ) navy house .
An old couple was busy moving and storing the separate elements of a demontaged sailing ship . The lacquer shone and smelt fresh , but the boat was not sailing . When I entered, the man said : look Mother, here is your forlorn son . I was eating a sandwich yet adapted quickly to the new role ; cornering with noble gestures, the warm smile, of a happy old mother .

dream: on miracle ground ?

as if drinking coffee in Puccini - i was clammed in between my friends: the artist and the scientist . My body told me to have a toilet visit , what else to do for me in this life . Happily, Suzanne followed me and instead of tinkle we had a chance to marvel over her work one more time . This was contemporary architecture , all right . A picture of a house with instructional graphic design ' overlaid ' teaching the recipient about The Code of Life. "Hank is the code of Peter." Etcetera. Very simply it taught us, we were all in one another. Without thinking about the consequence to apply the device on the designer, I asked Suzie: And Suzie's code is...? Moniek ! her best friend as I filled in the sum, easily. But Suzanne lapsed, completely. Her eyes rolled in wards, as she answered, very shyly, very thinly ;
".. me "... All of a sudden I noticed how her head was 'shaved' bold. The work in the institution had been too heavy, and had turned her into a patient. . !? She'd fallen prey to the deciphering disease : can-cer.. ? None of this became a topic, since the dream allowed us to elapse, back into our student time . Falling empty on the grass, a picnic, we watched without gaps ; 3 D- real (Investments for Ladies) ; the new thing happening: a happy echo of our past, happily imitated, until laughter depolluted our polluted insights.

dream : becoming elvis

our brand new tennis shoes seemed out of place in the dirty straw . We were playing in the barn and now went outside . The dense down atmosphere however never changed . Strings from the clouds pulled me up and my arms mimed its melody , as if plucking a guitar . Earth pushed my shoes up and now my whole body sung the music . Just one vague thought crossed me before the sung started : i should keep my head up. The words were important enough to howl them into every direction .

" I' m not a guilty guy ...."

Couplet lasted until every body got it and all became involved, arms waving in the air. Thingy caught me , as I fell out of lyrics , in new directions .

dream : the tax designer

This was a real estate ! and it meant: to do the home course in a yet not to be overseen enormous capital 'castle ' . For the moment I was hanging out in the garden , watching old rituals being performed around the gates . The job culture - I couldn't help it - aroused my depression, but yet I knew 2 things: 1 ) that I was part of it, and 2) would do all my best, to join in. As such during the Polka dance, I turned out to have become Willem' s direct left hand. We all seemed to know the steps, and went - like a swirl of birds - following the matrix of the dance . But as this matrix was indeed partly unknown , none was to be expected than the group falling apart , randomly , one by one, in the green space . Also nice. Willem had disappeared , and I felt he disagreed strongly. In the castle's back stage corridor I walked opposite the dancers corpus, addressing the 'leader' with a vaguely dubious yet firm : "I will dress in the boy's room", which was accepted, neutrally. But first I had to sit at the table of the national home course format designer. I liked the sums, and felt attracted to apply them to my material. No one commented on this. The telephone went. As he took it, I noticed he looked very tired and thin, and it occurs to me now, he may have been dead. We may have been sitting at the table of Uncle Afterlife. By the way, he said, putting away the cell device, by the way, that was one of the Expanses . ( In the dream this came in Dutch ). He taught me the biggest lesson there. The Expanse was his mother, as it turned out to be. All intelligent synergy - name it Journalisms - whirled upwards. Had she been financing the state's first national financial software? But Mr. Industrial Designed looked too sad. His mother always disapproved of his way of toenail clipping . And then he said that his toenail clipper was lost ! I immediately became his mother and said : 'nonsense.' His eyes yellowed, dangerously. I apologized for his mother. This he liked, and he became more free. Still he mourned about Lost Freedom in general .

dream
title : angels and tomato juice

2
Here we are in the silent empty minds of the mathematicians ,
all four of them squeezed in a taxi , on a detour to the capital of their homeland, where, before getting employed in Oxbridge , they lived a life equally joyless as whatever their eyes perceive now anew and whatever their ears are indifferent to hear the grand civil update about , by the touring guide .

1
There a metallic visceral invasion of creatures screaming the elements to a gathering in the boy , immune to anything but making his art work hereafter . It is the Big Sing It Around that gave his nation its name : land of angels . Its Martin B. - again - and me a little closer to his understanding , That and may be the difference between Holland and England .

2
On the place of destination , the academic conference , a dry talk about the national essence . Success . They name it tomato mash looking for horizons non existing .

The first dream came with Sound and the second explicitly without
( mute ? ) .

dream
a short morality play
title : shit and secrets

The re placement had holiday features with clear borders inside of which all was a ball , once more . I wander about in the strangest of indoor wrappings walled by intense sounds . The Great Kill Roads ? The architecture is so forcefully leading that answers from the outside world come not in easily. Once, I was lost and found in the Kitchen and friendly corrected by a stern looking man ager . To indeed go walk out to somewhere else . The plastic covered belly of the floating Boat - surrounding ice scotched water eventually telling me we were inside of - is covered by a mall ending like the splicing form of our very own human body ! Once inside the lobby bar again naturally I start reproducing my adventures to M. , quietly absorbing what happened , as usual. Until my mind reproduced the warning sign and the babble stopped. I knew what the transport mission was of our boat . Yet was also very clearly warned to keep absolutely quiet about this . ( * We are transporting the Shit from the City to dump it somewhere under the ice . . ) My mouth went dry and my tongue made a very defined sound when saying it . Martin, I will be killed when telling you what happens here .

dream : seamless

In my big brother ' s house : orthodox artists . One big peasant girl strangling me with her warm broad smile . Later she fake raped the Master with her pants on . Upon which he Showed . It was amazing : inside organs growing outside , he operated himself , without touching , and ( AND ! ) in extension raises a child . It appeared in the stove , like a pancake: rapidly growing in a nice form. We all cheered.

Oxford was hip, and offered me a purple table, to write at , after I hesitated to work in the office: TO WRITE THE NEW SCRIPT.

dream ( Mr . Life TV ) : the Giants

Sloppy girl flirting on a bar stool - or : the enjoyment of an Africanus Spell - changed, after he came in . Big bold and beautiful to my underunderconscious reading ; a well determined couple , bossying some business over their cell phones . Standing straight. Next frame he ' s identified an Icon , ( she's out ), safe enough for a joy ride. It's the rooky spooky woods , and a bush consumed after burning it . What it does for the car: we can crisscross. Yes, Im yelling and screaming when all this leads to a higher point , introduced : a place to sacrifice. Will I be roasted , too? No . We enter a wooden hut , very well made and decorated . Its for the gathering of journalists , he confides. Some dish is left unwashed , and he hates that ! I notice the drift in the expression and next moment is off . I ' m falling against a wall of books , embryonically crawling , a book cover falls on my head . I read my name ? ! Bobby... that's me , I stammer . Of course , he affirms . Next thing, we're in the village center . He announces to be heading for France . I realize out loud , on the edge of tears : to have forgotten my purse . Mr. Silver Sea Rob, as I secretly name him , looks on his nose . It ' s only ten minutes , he mumbles . Grabs for his cell phone to report the news .
' Ingeborg has forgotten her keys . So , Im taken her back home . ' I rub his back, to ease the excitement, reading ' whore ' in the environment. It's still a holiday, for we're having a coffee first. And not just in any place. A giant bath tub filled with unfluid bubbles forms the significant stage prop for : Baby Giant Story. After the sketch all the giant actors sit down at the table, to feed their giant bodies. Camera zooms in to visualize perfectly what that should be all about.

dream : magic

No body speaks about it , but I feel my bipolar strung entity is pulled, by impossible forces . Biographical items crossed with internet mafia . Mother again with Colby Fisher . At the bakery . And Then: the serial composer at my poor brothers house . Sad mother on the threshold . I have to go ! An impulse hops me in the tram . Hop of . Can't make this . Age ! I walk back , and inspect the street . Can't find the house , but look in many other ; the famous Dutch windows , without recognition . But before the Cinderella complex has chance to set in , an Incredibly Merry Pony All White grins - no laughs - widely with very pink lips, galloping towards me . Just for sure , I jump up a table . Enter: a goat. Just as white and smelly . There's an English Book Store with an electrified staff , big guys carrying piles of books , making funny faces . Im embracing some electronic device , to hold on to . String consciousness may have disappeared , yet a visual awareness of : Martin , to follow . His strings are tied into the clearest of an amused smile , and his step so swift , I am to follow . He wears a high hat , and a coat ; black of color made from shiny satin material. Some stepmother stretches her arms to hold me , but the magician makes no halt , and so my pace is also unaltered . A well crafted cave now blocks the way . Martin climbs the outer construction , balancing on his toes , such a steep architecture . I can't copy that , and muffle with some hang outs , inside. Carried by light and leaving his weight, sweeping on some cord ; we all are in amazement of Martins circus trapeze act . It's so in contrast with our plumpness , resting heads on ordinary limbs . Martin makes The diminishing sign straight in my neighbors face . His voice is low yet seems to come from high outside. He smiles, not excluding himself from ( t ) his kindness .

dream : site specific art ( consumer )

the insects have taken refuge in my archive, that ' s obvious now . Archive is taken outside , on the depressing flat roof of our house . Mum and the neighbor have been trying to make something of it: a garden, a bathtub ; all sorts of IDs have been discussed . But so far: nothing happened . I mumble about subsidies and meanwhile suffocate . Have to go out for some air , which is hard in the city .
So I bike over to the borders , and end up in the ultimate Dream of Site Specific Architecture .
Bodies much stronger than my own belittled polluted dwarfed down piece of endoskeleton roller skate in sharp silhouettes beneath the planets glowing . The boring black tar -for -car hybrids over into all sorts of more natural materials . I can follow a Wooden Lane , and explore experiments of Clay and Water . It ' s early and as such uncrowded , people are entertained in Morning Courses for Breakfast and Writing. An individual weather climate satellite follows me , as I ran into what seems to my miserably undernourished meta physical inside , a pure dream of freedom , and
( AND ! ) adds warmth light wind and water . I may crane with it ; see myself and therefore cry of joy and explore further . Amazing : they have turned the Old Cheese Mountain into an Ice Skating Dome .

dream : a royal journey through time

This must be the middle ages : it ' s crowded in an interconnected way. No protein expression , no posing or reposing , or flirting ; everyone on his way or busy with something ( which makes the 21st century's melancholy of driving through a mechanic anti-artistic economy more clear . ) I am a lost little girl ( again ) , with a foot that hurts . Can ' t go on . An old man helps me . He gives me a box with a Turtle Head carved from wood . Inside : lemon drenched cake ! Outside a ship is being prepared to leave . All of a sudden from the nest a creature shouts : kill the king . He's being lynched and killed himself in no time.

Later after a time warp I mime the original memory of a royal TV performance in front of a princess. Her face is following my conscious of her , all fresh and new . Outside the people are seated on blankets . I go home without food in my body .

dream : multi ( P l e ) media going pitching in LA

Must be my 2 alter ego's and me preparing to pitch the movie in LA . Three identical girls dressed in the same outfits . The other 2 are giving me little tasks to test my mood control in doing minor tasks . No other fields to test than the household , and may be therefore its destined to fail . When asked to close to window curtain gently , I almost break it , screaming from anger . After 14 x 365 x 2 , I don't want to measure this again ! Once Im calm we can go on the train and go .

dream : ' neutronic ' multi media rules applied in Hollywood

Madonna is washing her car , bend over forwards . Madonna , I say. She doesn't react . Inside , some Actress Turd also plays with the rules . She will dress up as Madonna and .. go to Madonna . . and . . then.. de - un- mask the Turd in all of them . She walks out of the window , looking ridiculous .

dream : the holy church ( of theatre performance ? )

It ' s my home town department store , with Martin B . coming out of it . Surprises eventually will not block my next step , so , I get in. It only occurs to me much later , that Martin sticks to me . Meanwhile supermarket - in - the - basement has changed into what can only be : a Shelter Church for refugees ?! Its packed, crowded, with what must be described in Paleolithic as: our Ancestors ? * (Bearded , Flaky , ' Poor & Dirty ' Europeans ) . The picture presses itself to me , quite different...! I hear children singing about Friendship, and organ players talking - or even entertaining - about Choosing Quality Bread , ' Whatever Happens ' . Martin ' s off stage , from behind the curtain gesturing to me . Are his passports and papers in here, and could I get them out , for him . Ok . Well, it ' s like asking the sweets from the drivers seat . Yes , Passports and Paper are in here , and I can take them out , and by some naturally driven force , wring myself through the crowds , all the while forcing Positive Thoughts about Martin B. (How's he's never... err ... )

* The Heidelberg in contemporary American history .

dream : fall for the loss of some stupid ballistic balloon

The sea is ... pleasant, that's not the point . Colors matching our metallic ship . She's calm , she ' s showing patterns of small waves , Neatly moving in one direction . There's not a spot in the sky , either . We in the nest of it all , don't shake , or anything , we just perceive oneness . But clearly Captain does not . We are turning . Slowly our horizon involves the back of the boat , or rather what it dropped off . Wonder full : a small orange colored balloon . Handy when entering a town , but may be not worth turning around for . . Basically we are clutching the sea , screwing the ocean , and behaving like a dog eating its ..
Then, as if skating with our foot turned inwards , we are falling , and since we are on top , gladly , mind foresees , whats needed ; a big breath, a sunk of ( 40 kilos) ; 80 meters , a climb sorry swim under the rails, and then, .. ( practicing that lunging , breathing - not exercise for times the speed of our flight times our weight ) (always believing in 'it' ) (with the ' itch ' what else ) .

dream : a true theatre / performance

I ' m biking over to a recommended theatre , with for a small while , in an Inter-Dream style, my post - holocaustic ghost friend , who teasingly keeps testing me . But , whatever history , the journey is truly pleasant . First, the landscape is flat , following a river , with fancy updated old aristocratic mansions . They are really playful in putting sculptures in the gardens, I see a giant doll with funny hair . Its nice . There is a highway , with the option to take the Wald , which is of course what I ' m doing . To enter the forest , I need to pass a small alley , and a closed gate . There is a family , probably locals , who surpasses in here with me .
And it ' s the oddest creatures , reckoned from ordinary human families . Very vibrant and energetic and the children might be considered slightly hysterical , had not their elders been totally in sync in play . Anyway , I get The Glance from the youngest ( boy ), who throws me a picture , a telepathic picture. This will be Him , for tonight , he whispers , with his eyes . The Wald is also on the edge of spooky ( rooky ) , while in fact , it ' s again a joyous bike ride , through hills and lanes , and an occasional wild but all together family . When I see the big square mansion state building, ostentisized by a fitting icon ' The Austrian Wald Theatre ' or something , I shout out my happiness . I enter the building - as it may be analyzed - from the wrong side . A gang of Communication Girls test their equipment , and with almost bloodshot eyes of seriousness , one of them announces , she will be singing tonight , also... ! It's the servant entrance, not really behind the curtains of the bühne , but I find the synthesis of horeca and cast a good sign, even if I am out of place. So I leave for another space, through a backdoor. Descending upwards on steeple stairways, through a wall of welcoming acoustics, I get a glimpse at myself, a small moment of transcendence learning Im a petite American girl, all teeth and symmetric smiles, on a European tour, probably on some research grant thing. Upstairs, leaning against the walls of an original but not lit fireplace , there he is : Mister Bank .

He associates with Ugly Betty ' s boss, but less outward, a bit more orange in the pigments, one might associate discriminatively : more piggish, more blank , but most of all: not frustrated at all . He's tall and juicy , and politely turned inwards , rather than shy . Probably because of my intense perception , the dream gaps us into the Bank Boys Car . An old English taxi , with benches facing each other , takes the men , on a small local tour , especially alongside what may be considered Small Adjustments ( Concessions ? ) to time . We see a small rather ugly postwar modern build shopping mall. The eldest , Mr. The German Bank , says he's turned all his money into .. jobs. JOBS? the word arouses a small arousal . Youngest Mr. Bank is so flabbergasted, that finally he asks his senior for his name and telephone number , in perfect Generally Civilized Dutch .

( ' Waarom geef je me je telefoon nummer niet . ' )

Mr. Deutsch Bank seems relieved, and grabs for his cards. On the very last moment, he throws every single one of them out of the window . We see them flying in our pretty wandering horizon. They must be blank, or this is an extra illogical dream. No cards whilst sightseeing . It must be a rule.

Perfect pacing, the dream woke me up all warm and pleasant.

dream: war office

Its no time to be formal, so no names, but it will be Mr . Peters coming in my office , asking for some Betadine . He holds his hand as if stung by a needle in his fingertip, but his striped shirt is covered red at the front , by blood. Nevertheless I grab for the Betadine . We are on the highest floor , and have some oversight ; the floor beneath us , is taken hostage . And they will be coming up . Our paralyzed beings frozen by fear , shoot into total panic when we can actually hear them coming up . Through the window, through the window , we say. And we open the window and end up on the roof . In the alley beneath , they are walking . Bony bold headed men . They see us . There are more office guys on the roof . One looks like a kid , about sixteen years old . He jumps from one plane to the other . Dream stops in between his flight .

dream : kidnapped ( 1 )

But Im back in here, right in the web of E . , who makes me walk into the office , and hand him both my I-Book laptop and mobile telephone , and steal H .' s . He has it all , it happened in a split second , and while he's gone , Im after him , bewildered . The journey is hard and useless, yet very impressive.

dream: kidnapped ( 2 )

its late, Im in the centre of the city, traveling in some mini tram, conducted by females. Im after some paper, that proves I have worked, and earned money . The building pretending to be an institution, looks very much like the American Book Store , and is stuffed with workers off duty . I recognize G . , once a musician , he's lying on the floor, drinking juice . More guys have kicked off their costume and are lying or rather hiding on the floor . Am I in the right office ? The mini tram is going , and I like to hop back on , but all of a sudden I ' m naked . The female conductors don ' t mind , but I don't feel so sure now . E . is back , lying on his back . He wants me on top . And so that ' s what happens . We don ' t have to , I say . He looks terrifying , and angry . How can I produce this doubt ? While . . he's . . . I get the message , but safely get out of the way . To support his ejaculation , I take his giant head in my lap, and underneath the rather greasy mass of brown curls , massage his central nervous system , ( end) u r ing the complete spasm . Covered none the less by his fluids , I must refuse G . ' s offer to have a sip of his carrot juice . E. drinks of course . Some gap later I walk over , to stand in the shadow of his smoking moment . Intense close ups of his brown colored teeth enjoying the tobacco . He points out to small paper filters on the floor . Did I made these ? No, I said, I quit smoking .

dream : de pop (1)

( genre: splatter horror )

There's a car and a boyfriend involved and we drive by a market where I point out the stall of befriended pop stars . They have brought out a SeeDeee, and I can even describe details of the retails: a cover of black velvet with shiny stars... Next moment a slacker body dressed in what must be sold to industry as youth fashion , is chopped into 2 pieces . And dragged into a hut of straw . The digestion system leaves its traces . I witness perfect warm snails of pooh , now layering the straw . Too emphasize the mess, mayonnaise is spread over , on top . The host of the massacre welcomes me in. Of course I don ' t want to be here . He is telephoning , playing the normal guy , to the other side of the line.

dream: de pop (2)

In mini moonwalk steps , like a geisha , she moves into my direction , to with a perfect smile , say softly: hi Ingeborg . Its . . what's her name ?! That's why the New Market is all quiet and silent ! I hook into her , and follow , whilst the rabbit brain , grinds over the Name. P . p paris Hilton ! A security chip is stuffed into our underarm , not all too subtle, and we are set in the Library , at the corner of a very long impressive wooden table . Helen the model dancer is there as well . A long tall blond man is entering, and smashes Helen. Then he hammers my head, in very quick repetitive movements , entering the skull, entering the soft tissue.

dream : holiday mountain ?

There's a very high energetic active creative atmosphere on the mountain where we are located . There's Nathan jumping - paragliding in his jacket - from it , into a really deep layered depth , and - oo- there's that split second i forget myself again and find myself jumping after him . it' s a dream so the montage may be Ir. real , in any case - before there's any chance to realize there ' s woods to cross we both survived, and are lying now in . . the water . Heineken beer bottles floating with I might imagine little paper letters rolled up inside of them, also insure me that the eye sight still works . No connection to all sides , just a pure cut slit , a gap - again - and : the next moment . Im up on the mountain again . This time following Debra Solomon' s orders . It ' s not an easy one. Im watching an apparently amorphous species , when in the heat of the situation, discover , the one is a semi dead fungus, and the other a being murdered mammal ; Im watching a Chinese turtle soup being prepared . And the pang to find this out , turns me into that little girl again . OOOh , look at him , swimming , with his little neck and forearms , eyes , mouth , ( life recognition , etc . ) .

dream : academy of film \ house of the arts

Im in a select crowd of people , we are sitting on chairs , a woman is discussing the Production Numbers . Are there any problems? A man raises his hand , and starts about his Entry Codes. His practice is upstairs , and I find myself checking out his work. The projection concerns a Battered , or rather Squeezed woman . A terrible sight , shown , as it goes in this visual medium , in full detail . She ' s lying on her stomach , her nervous centrum destroyed , skull ' pressed in ' , her legs still make some spastic movements , wearing stiletto heels , it looks like post - mortal self defense . Mm , this showing room is really very dusty , a girl enters to open windows , and - what else in Dutch dreams - starts a bar in there . I catch the eyes of many females who don't like this man's work , and the gathering must conclude in silence ; justice is done with this man's security problems . My mood is very high , Im almost dancing through the building . It is the European Academy of Film . . . ( ! ) There , over my left shoulder : the French Room ; very large , very empty , wooden floor , Ideal to dance , make ballroom dance scenes . . I descend the stairs , so fast , that I' m turned into an aircraft , more or less , until I get stuck in between the rails , and almost break my neck , under the eye of some classy looking females , but don ' t because of .. a well trained body . It doesn't stop exploring the space , passing narrow hallways, where plastic mattresses - suggest intimate meetings , and indeed most walkers have formed slow couples , only I read a magazine , and recognize neo fascist architecture ; absolutely scary farm houses with natural roofs , reminding of nasty mustaches . In the other - side - wing - bar , I more or less jump out of the window , since there is a ladder there , to help me assist so. Bartender girl wonders what's the hurry, to get away from the academy...?! A moment of consciousness. But the window stairs are not so high; Im back on the streets, already. Right in the old city, where fancy cars, and well dressed dandies from the magazine, enter ( me ) .
Woke up, all excited, breathing high . As if to learn the difference .

A ' dream ' later, my brain reminds me of the difference, between film and performance .

It is another big general space, divided in little shops-of-performing-arts. Again I wander as if being lost through the spaces, in between being caught by individual or group works. There's also an intervention of friends, during the reception of a musical piece. Let's say they stimulate my perception: the Grotowski practice. It's well intended, I presume, but takes my breath, voice, and almost my mind away. So we split and continue our own ways. Im very much attracted by a most vague 'museum shop' selling visual antiques; watches, paintings, costumes. But end up, serious, in the performance dependance. What's-her-name does a very well executed striptease, in white light, bright colors. A newcomer fights art history with her mother. The girl believes in the totality of the network, let's say, where as mum is convinced that so-and-so had a job next to being so-and-so. Im googling Ingeborg Houwen. The portal in Croatia welcomes clients with news of winter-sports. Germany opens truthfully with an immensely boring text on postmodern linguistics, written by the performer herself.

Woke up, with a broken identity.

dream: salon de la literature

In a nineteen century Amsterdam parterre, in between the sliding doors , in a circle on chairs , gathers a typical ' book reading club '. We are a salon of literature , and I . . am also on the program . . . ! I' m nervous , after all , the host is Theo van Gogh , who's never been nice to me! We may have shared the last pages of the same magazine, the creature couldn't hear me speak . He liked to flirt over a bar, as long as I kept my mouth shut . And here we are, in one space on the same 'program' ? Felicitas suggested : a - Cup - of - tea - with - milk - with - Ingeborg . I doubted this , but the thing was circling already like (on) the official playlist. The atmosphere was intimate, familylike, serene, and somehow very cosy. A little obsessed maybe because of the twist in our relationship, my focus was on Theo ' s big legs surrounded in a stone washed fit-to-size denim. His house is very neat. I noticed this in detail, after visiting the toilet, to tinkle away some nerves before it was ' my turn '. In some insane type of nervousness, I had taken with me .. the cloth let of toilet paper , and now smelled myself, which was very disquieting, in prospect of my presence - de - literature. I was looking for a paper bin, but all I could find, was a paper bin with Theo's perfectly sorted out income tax administration. So, as to protect this important plot line, decided to put the used toilet paper in my own bag. First in my jacket, but what if I forgot to take it out ? I'd smell forever ! While Im running around like one of the orphan children, the circle is actually discussing new works of literature. Felicitas has the brand new one, of Von Doesburg, or something, this big Indonesian guy, who has about 6 columns, in every magazine and newspaper, of the Belgian publisher. All this cultural syntax in my cynical little head, the circle is excited somebody has the actual new book! It's Felicitas, who has it, of course.

Woke up, saying : what a nice dream, and then found the atmosphere still ' lingering ' in my space. Serene sunday morning, no society threats, mini snowflakes 'tinkling' downstairs.

31a

dream : honesty, and the horrible art world, revisited .

In the tram, I saw A., who was revisiting Amsterdam. Sure , even in the dream, my heart sank . Why had n ' t he told me anything ? The small ego , shrunk even further , but mechanic laws made it unavoidable to 'see' and with that - laws of civilization - 'recognize' each other . So, as the tram turned, and even slowed down; A. and I waved, and he even used his divine energy to 'shout' something. Later we reunite but in between , I lost everything again : wallet, mind, the way. ( The 'normal world' environment seemed nice enough , to play along. )The party was reminding me of the old 'art' virus. A. was wearing - what with a 'pang' I reclaimed as 'my iconic' outfit; a brand new, well wrapped flaming red beret , on his well tailored small head. We sat so close together, sharing one chaise, that whispering was enough. We were in the o so creatively carpeted space of M. the o so cute friend of A., and once famous artist. She brought up a show with her amazing photo-machine: a huge microprocessing lens, with an inbuilt projector. All went in little cute steps, and all of a sudden, it turned out: this was a surprise party. For me? Dumbo me was still verbalizing her worn out mind. M. - the famous media artist- seemed to work '3D' with huge costumes. I came up with old theatrical samples. Had she worked with this-and-that- object theatre group? A. reminded me, softly whispering in my ear, of my old concepts: the antropoto costumes? He recited the concepts in perfect Dutch, I hadn't heard of them for years. Fresh young artists sprang up from the bed. A. continued: he was here to have a radio interview. They had talked about us, our collaboration. The radio interviewer - A. - had found it necessary to remember (t)his perception, and with an absolute reduced satanism, gladly played the medium, to transpass the public information . I noticed that when we started walking together, we both shrank. ' Read: we influenced each other negative . . ?' Meanwhile M . ' s subsidized anthropoto costumes became bigger and bigger, and the attentive artists became younger and younger. Truth borrowed my throat . I confessed all was a disappointment : I had left the heretic art of literature to live in the real world ( of o pen source ) , but nothing had quite worked out . More younger artists left, to give me a glance, but it didn't read positive. Au contraire.

Woke up, almost with pain in my ear: so close A. had been. Then I thought: have to phone Pauli in the hospital to type the work schedule. All confused: good world, bad world.

31b

dream : definitions of a prostitute

Title command of dream came from dream-internal A., the japanese filmmaker. Visuals very diffuse . A dark house , an upstairs room , an empty bed , a man walking away . I scratch my head with a head scratcher , that is lying there .

dream : stepsisters room

Playing with a great computer assisted application for video camera input, IN the old step sisters room . The youngest tries to ignore what I' m saying , and frankly it is not so easy to explain . But I' m having fun ; images from the past, blurred in the present . Camera makes life bearable. The eldest stepsister L. is talking to me and the difficult stuff. She was almost demented she said, with big round eyes, it's been so difficult. We try to give the matter a name. The metaphor we choose for the evolution of the mind is trap, Dutch word for ladder. A young guy comes in, carrying tupperware with macaroni and meat. She orders him to bring it to the kitchen. I'm not the bellboy, he sulks. You should have blend in a stage earlier, I say, when she was fragile and pretty .

dream : family Twitter

The case is: Im graduating and in practice this seems to mean: bringing the right silk stockings to the right big man . Pathetic Jan and the rest of the internet - communication - application - owning Family throw a party for the users in a big hall usually installed for the cattle market . In the doorway Father Twitter, watching the input, like as in bars, in the Hallway Sister Twitter and the actual Twitter News Bulletin Board. It's about dolls, and so she materializes this with placing a real doll on the news bulletin board ...! Very creative ! and so unlike her brother Pathetic Jan, and his Father and Uncles, who ' re all being around looking very sulky . I try to talk with them about the actual value of Twitter for the mobile telephone users . They run away . Pathetic Jan is a sensitive young man , you can see that . I verbalize my perception , and he reacts , let's say for 1 %. So, I ask the family, what's next for the Twitter Family. The Movies , father Twitter says, strict and stubborn, as if.. it' s a new kind of cat food powder .

dream : reality and life art

A small in-crowd of a mixture worth lying naked under the blankets for : foster-parent-family and international watchers . The mob is gathered on the terrace, but Im lying backstage, in the bedroom. Totally blank, without extra thoughts or recognition, Im perceiving what must be summarized as : the Global Market Planning of the youngest foster parent sister . Time has traveled also in the dream, and it has become irrelevant she's a teenager cloning import television soaps. Right now what counts is the civil engineering fact ( of ) : the happy, integrated, adult form, the original human being has taken: all a Business Woman Engineer . She will launch a ' new sort of Dutch pasta ' , and we are about to have a Sample Bite Presentation . It ' s pasta in the form of Verkade Tea Cookies , an insult for the senses, and a direct threat to the digestion system. Nice! I hear myself say . Moment later we are all in the Bus for Internationals. I seem to recognize 'my lover', that is: my eyes want to X-ray his slick and straight outfit. (to me) He seems to imitate Arnold Schwarzenegger seriously, hugging his fellow humanitarians with an immense smile and tri- angelic features, and most surprising: speaking Dutch ? ! , turning his estate away from me ( associated with: the sloppy count ? ). The bus rides us over the marketplace, where people are busy selling by offering miniature stuff. Next time, I hear my self say, next time.

dream : reality and life art

The happy pre-suicide couple D. and R. must have invited me , or may be all this dream wants to tell, is how I invited myself over, to a happy couple. They live upstairs , but the stairs are practically impossible to climb. Struggling with the absurdly visitors-unfriendly architecture, Im synchronized as ever , and verbalize her plot . ( D . is of course gentleman enough to grant her the life style design ) . Yes , she smiles , it is practically impossible to set one foot over the threshold of our beginning relationship . Not so surprisingly the love nest is pretty , bohemian middle class . I grab a tangerine from the fruit-scale, and announce to make it a short stay . R. has 2 wonderful moments between 2 doorway curtains . The first must be to tower her well controlled relaxed and beautifully girlish painted and pierced body over his . (Belly - button outfit making all sense, again . ) The second to disappear in the kitchen, asking : what ' s for dinner to cook ? Don' t worry , D. says , Ingeborg doesn't cook .. I turn around, hurt. Ingeborg doesn't cook ? Ingeborg doesn't cook ?

dream : little Princes Journeys

In the ' performance space ' one of us occupied fully, officially, some conscious of the dream, reproduced a scene , that did not surprise us . A request for ' a better party ' - is turned down . Just because we rented the space , is not enough to enter the circle . Backstage, in ' my visitor's space ' , I very unusual for 'the real Ingeborg' , but may be very much in the Liminal sphere ( of Paul around 2002 ),
I made friends with a couple of ' street junkies ' , without doubt, as I continued in the next stage ; in the Bus with the Royal Family : to Save Humanity. Dumping the actual '', presuming I was going, and letting them off instead ( some trick between the automatic doors ), and keep in the abstract , : me facing the real Princesse , and the Task. This has never happened before . Do I think I was actually competing ? she asked . And I said ' yes ' and ended up in a really terribly stupid journey. With Ingeborg soooooo stupid, its actually funny. This is what happened: from the Bus, I took a Train, and once inside wondered : something's missing . Leaving my luggage inside , jumping out , without knowing really whereto, except it's with Pauli in the art squat . An orientation replaced with the order : re find the exact bus , ending up looking at time tables ( station ), being rescued ( by poor children in a sup-burp ) . Who knows because compared to my impossible impasse , it all is quite wonder full: princessicly I make compliments to the parents, without much disturbance, and in full detail: Father inspecting the Video Camera. The whole family was impressive, and now look: she takes out her bicycle to make me Catch the Train!

Perfect little ' rescue ' movie made by my brain .

dream: art fashion world revisited

Sacha virgin like walked on her ovaries - mannequins - through her mansion ; an underground squat ; the spaces the extended victory of her reigning health and beauty . Yet, we were looking for Barbie. Barbie had the courage to mime the fate of her body; (as an Ex- Star Dancer from the Contemporaneous Theatre) ; after having given birth, no other jobs than cleaning ; she mimed the agony of her cells; blubbering into the new pattern, outside the core of culture. Whipped by the production schedule I found myself outside the squats, looking for a lost slipper, swamping on bare feet, in the mud of a rainy stormy dark ex-industrial terrain. Paul drove us through hallways of food & toilet art, ending up one station before the perfect syntheses, one station before hell: a sauna installation floored by cooked chicken-wing garbage. On the walls : Vegetarian rabbits - nibbling biscuits - the new models of video art, naked white men, were actually sitting on sauna benches, whilst gallery spectators on their outdoor shoes walked the floors of bones and gellywhite chicken meat. The author of the piece of-course not inside the picture of this most disgusting dream of descent.

Merry Christmas, I said to myself, waking up.

dream : job interview

laura smiled glamorously behind the counter of the faculty, and it communicated, that I shouldn't walk behind it, into her or other people's postbox . As such I returned back into the crowded city street, ending up in a creative job interview session , in a fashion shop . Rest of the girls were busy miming the vacancy , all in underwear on socks , and I went behind to change . I'm bleeding, so I keep on my jeans , I gestured to the director . I ended up next to her, watching the trials. The girls had to improvise with very big books, but all they could do was : sipping wine and falling asleep over the pages ! ? I had 2 thoughts: 1 ) I would work more from the arms, be creative with personal mass and energy and 2 ) did these girls really think everybody had the right to have a PIN and bank card?

dream; terminal

Harry was very nervous; kissing me all the time , or wanting to , and talking constantly . At least we had a place to work , in this dream : a big hall . I was carrying a suitcase, and in there : loads of documents. Didn't seem to know what to do with it, walking around. There was a discussion going on between my beta friend Mathematician Moniek and old friends. This shit World Life does not give me the right to visit her, but some parts of me does not seem to need this shit World life. For here she was: big like a beta girl should be, big and bold : hardly synchronized . Arrogant as my small town family would receive . A far more smaller thinner blond alf, directed his agony to her , to bask in her calmness . . ? When one is terminal, he said, one is in the last stadium of his life, and will do a lot, become very active. Is that so, Moniek asked with her gloomy eyes .

dream : the new internet

was more like playing basketball .. One had to 'flunk' a drop of special fluid - helium plasm or something - exactly on the right spot, and then: an audio visual exchange with, in our case, a happy effect . I don't know why, but we were dancing around the space .

dream : friends palace

M . was playing ' bookstore ' in the garden, looking so cute, I had to get a picture . I'm getting my camera, you wait, I said . But inside, the house had been filled with streams of people, like as if the tourist traffic had been replaced inside the house! So I loose track of the initial goal and find myself in a small group of friends located in a sea village, where we - merged into tourists - do nothing but site seeing . First we watch the ocean in a special Ocean Tunnel, a street made of glass, where we can watch the very ocean blue Ocean and in there enormously cute (looking) animals, like ocean baby cats. Part of the ocean tunnel is in fact a water street, with extra oxygen bubbles, so you can walk under water, and breath ? ! It works , but personally this is too much for a hyperventilating stress animal like me. So, we return to the village. N. takes the leadership-role - guiding as we call it - and points out especially to a beautiful Prison on top of a mountain . I am allowed to walk topless, so I do that, and nobody cares, but later I turn a sweater around my shoulders and nipples. Meanwhile we have ended upon a terrace, with special view on the indeed very romantic building of the Prison. Talks continue, I drop the id of 'after life', which is very unwelcome to my friends, after all: who cares for life after life - but actually Im focussed on the visual experience, as if being or taking a photograph . Where I now sit the frame is perfect, and so my friends push me aside, to try the angle, too. M. has arrived as well, with a new Recipe Book ?! It is simply amazingly good, that is: a real new complete little book . It turns out they've written and composed it all together. The recipes are written delicious . By reading White Crab Cocktail with Honey-Silver Whine - and- a- sliver- of- Vanilla one can almost taste the book. Better, I am to publish this sweet piece of craft or art (who cares) . Back in the garden, laying on the grass, and some soft woolen blanket, with the new recipe book, I get company of a very young, very skinny, but very healthy playful little three color. The cat stretches her limbs, we see, touch, recognize, then she jumps in my arms.

Kroepoekje ( the Diseased Cat ). Woke up crying.

dream : theatre camp

A rather shabby place , but there is a pit , a theatre arena , where people play ; J. being the star boss . I am amongst the audience , sitting or hanging on some tribune , but on a certain moment feel free to jump into the pit . Climbing back, I survey the site; a grass hill. A young woman installs her self, falls down on the grass, wearing a tent, covering her body and face. A more authoritative figure asks if this is where she camps. She unveils her face, wearing a tiara, it's obviously an alf. Young boys are talking intensely.

A The Nineties Complex ?

dream : the gang bang

Administrators march in , but we don't let them pass freely. We manage to read their documents, and there it is black-on-white: 'How to organize a genocide'. We howl, and scream ; a group of young people again, now clearly in some heroic role . I sing a tune on the word: fascist. We all discuss our fate inside this regime, strangely the administrators are as narratively concerned as well . She - they out at the object, happily found herself a man . She, the subject, sighs . We discuss new roles . Two young men will return working for the Bank. One has always been a bank servant. The other one will penetrate the Austrian empire bank, and looks at us, with an enclosing eye of conspiracy.

dream : darling brother on air

Unclear from where exactly, but my middle brother D. awoke me, from the Dark and Lonely Sleep. 'Hey Little one, wanna earn 20 EURO?' he asked, and pulled me up into standing position . I had to clean the pockets of his jeans . Ostensibly leaning forward , revealing his big round behind , the job was described . Slightly disgusted , fearing to touch little microscopic items like bread crumbs, we cleared the job together , pulling some paper money and a golden watch from his trousers on to the sink . You don't have to pay me, I said ( in my small girl voice ) . He knew that, and the next thing I know is that the whole space is really chilly. Inspecting the house, mummy and I noticed there were doors and windows open, in the back room. But this had some function: a big crew of radio air technicians and reporters were busy setting up a studio. My brother was part of them. Fully concentrated he sat at the table, talking in a microphone, producing his natural beloved sound .

Woke up with a bewildered thought of clichematic frustration.

dream: trade & trouble

if this was the Mongolian bird soup merchandise distributor, trade was indeed worth the capital. We are located in the rice fields, in some barack or hut, that serves as stock and storage place. Big pans on gas heated stoves , are boiling and cooking . I see some very special Three Color Rice, well sealed and packed . But before suggesting something, W. says : no . If we are to cook anything , it will be .. as I see... insect eaten oatmeal . A very angry looking Chinese man, from beneath his big hat, seems to not see us . Outside there are the options of . . taking a rowboat. M. could be a companion but it's simply impossible to transport his large albino body anywhere . So , we are stock , or stuck, whatever, watching, endlessly, transports of trucks on misty highways .

Woke up suicidal. For me it felt like war, again. And for what ? Just atmosphere. God Im sick of it.

dream : uncle

We - young branch of friends and family - already spend some time in the grand villa in the woods . As ever it' s been a great time with communicating freely ; dreams and plans . We have tidied the place and now leave . On the way out I remember to have forgotten something inside and insist on getting back in . It' s not all too welcome, but Im allowed. So some seal is broken, again. A curtain wrapped must be rearranged. I sneak back in and get what I need, or think I need, think I have forgotten. But before the dream gets time to punish me with moral, the door goes open, and off the stair descending: owner of the house, family patriarch. He's carrying his race bicycle down the stairs, I see he's quite arthritic, weight of the lower body dragged ears and fresh part of the brain down and far in, blood probably drying in some forgotten river of Loins. With all attention to the bicycle, feeling probably he himself not existing anymore, for a wider circle of the world, he descend the stairs. I wait for his ears to pass me by and in these Openings send his name. Uncle Gerritjan. Moment later everybody back in again, having some lunch 'round the family kitchen corner. Sitting behind his big quiet back, I speak about exploiting a mongolian bird soup restaurant on the upper terrace. Miming the kitchen in the upper room, with mild little gestures. A funny face turns up, friend of the family. An investor?!

dream: robbed
The party allows one to smoke and located in a former underground gay sauna ; it's hell . J. the Iconic Grey Gallery Owner and I ( ) decide to leave together *. At least we descend the stairs together, and since Im close to hers and she's close to my bag, we carry each other's suitcase. In the courtyard I'm waiting for her to come down but she doesn't. Here I am stuck with her suitcase, that all of a sudden turns out to have no bottom, and so is empty of content. Im worried about this, and want my own bag back. Its needed for the appointment tomorrow at 14.00 o'clock. I decide to start biking, the road is misty. Two of the gay performers have followed me, and have decided to attack me. They sweep their white towels over me, and drag me from the bike. Next thing I know is I have to walk home barefooted. I take a cross road, and the beauty of the day still impresses the traveler of this immensely sad dream. Under a nice Arch of nineteenth century architecture, I see the big juicy back of a Northern pony, and a big trunk of shiny colored fruits. From a terrace Im being encouraged, as they do here . Im looking great ! Half walking , half limping, practically naked ! ? Before I have a chance to start nagging an iconic Pony Girl crosses my way, asking straight away: can I do the corners of the manege, at 14.oo hrs next day. Im flabbergasted yet reproduce what's at stake: an appointment
( off-speech ) that same time . Pony Girl answers with lexical exactitude. Off-speech, am I.. having lessons in speech, of some kind ? Speech ? I respond : Does she Know me ?! Its a bewildering moment, but Pony Girl presses her thin lips and answers ; NO. Is she looking for an assistant in her relationship with her pony ? I ask . She replies again : No. We are walking fast now, and Pony Girl goes her way. ' Damn compromises' , are her last words.

( * a simple version of this story that continues in a pathetic serial with me trying coute-que-coute to return the bag to the gallery.)

dream:

We are drowning people. A Lovers Tourist Boat has been chopped into 5 pieces . Half floating half swimming it's cold. The coach is still there, in a rowboat he passes by . Encouraging us, yes, to keep up the spirit. Next thing I know is Im flirting with the biggest wave, ever seen in a corner of an Amsterdam canal.

dream : sickness and sinn

Mother was in her room, the bathroom was empty, and so I used it, again. The water spilled all over other spaces of the house too, as the water system was moving, in an eclipse. I couldn't hang on, and stopped . My labia was cut loose , I could stretch it , and watch it . It seemed to have been cut , in some - perhaps ritual - shape. Worse , inner organs grew out of my belly , I noticed red obstacle d piercing out the skin, with horror. It hid the tumoric disease under my panty and underwear , going downstairs with the post-bloated exploded body . It was very crowded, but I escaped from my friends, avoiding them. Outside a lovely couple, a duck and a goose, wiggled my direction. One was carrying straws in its pretty pink snaffle beak, probably to build the nest, and the other was .. talking. I was sure this was a delusion, perceived because - well - I had seen my own body. But there came a giant man and his friend along, laughing about what the duck and the goose had to say. So , they heard it as well. (Or I was becoming one of these creatures?)

dream : adapting to adoption daddy

In which ' tent ' we should sleep , was the question, and it meant something like: how to get inside somewhere to sleep, meaning ; how to pass the rest of the world . My sister friend was worried about it, and told me, on an accusing tone: 'You have alienated yourself from the world'. I showed my face to the terrace. A lookalike of the actress playing Mrs. President in The Powers to Be (TV serial), Mother, looked up from her chair, (s)lightly frowning, probably as shy, as I was, coming in on mouse feet. A not unfriendly faced shrunk short hairy creature, dominantly jumped in the front, gesturing me to kiss his cheek. I remembered why, shrieked 'Father', and on the one hairless spot of his face, planted a kiss.

dream: the rapist killer over won

With blushing cheeks inside the trunk of a car sits the wife beating asshole I've been trying to forgive and see objectively, lets say the second part of my life. The dream comes without words, without adjectives, all it wants me to see, is not the possibility but the fact of him with red fresh cheeks, a skin cured, and me - invisible but seeing - sitting on the grass, outside the car, and us talking, and me mildly disagreeing, and pointing out to the truth: that was around us, me in fact; without a roof over my head, where i saw the bigger whole we're part of, and I named it: camera's and satellite, feeling intensely filled with happiness, happy, as the universe Night her self shone; dark with stars. And he at least did not disagree. I asked the way out, he pointed it, and that was that. A bus drove me out of this most confusing and happily short lasting reunion. But it came without emotions. These came in re-dreaming.

dreams:          squatters paradise (1)
                        post holocaust fiction (2)
                        post mortal sauna (3)

1 - Around the corner , an alternative shop that raises sympathy , and , a little further , in the doorway , on the threshold of a house , a young man gesturing to ' come in ' . He has squatted this house , we are now in the kitchen , that light switch is NOT to be used , he warns us , but we notice a big fridge [ koelkast ] snoring extra loud , so there is electricity . We pass the kitchen and cry out in positive disbelief , as we enter the living . A villa , in all the colors forms and atmosphere of the nineteen twenties style ! A very large floor of nature stone is laid out with knitted carpets , amazing warm colors , and soft light , and in shaking disbelief : the Squatters - who look very adapted - sit alongside low Japanese style salon tables . Someone mentions a beautiful young girl , that walked just in . The neighbors ? It brings us into the garden , and now we almost explode of happy recognition . It is the garden where our favorite miniature train rides through , on our always favorite journey ! Look there is the wipwap, and there . . there . . the . . absolute cutest train station , so cute we can't even describe the architecture . But there it is , a . . friendly castle with round female forms . A group of new people gathers our gathering : asiatic people in nice suits and ties , with friendly smiling faces . One of us starts taking pictures , as we start exploring the backstreet neighborhood . This is how it works , some one says . William - my brother - reminds me of an earlier part of the story , and advices me to work with that actor , give in to his wish. Meanwhile I notice posters on the street walls , reflecting an engaged film festival . An older lady is doing social welfare work for the neighborhood .

2 -

In front of Our Daily Milk Coffee Lurking , we agree to work on a post- holocaust fiction . Young men shake my hand , as I dare to agree upon the terminology .

3 -

This looks very Greek , with individuals lying on tables , a bit of : steam giving atmosphere . Felicitas Jutta is lying on her stomach , writing her poetry , next to her the tabu-king , apart from a small white waste linen , his enormous big belly naked . He is dripping with water , and a threat to her work , so FJ moves her table . He lets her , is my strange though or observation . A bath tube is running full with water . Im going to the table , but there's a line waiting . I ' m planning to go to the other side , where hot showers are waiting to be used.

dreams :         temple garden (1)
                        campus party (2)
                        crime scene (3)

1 - so inside the cliché we don't judge it , and so here we were in the temple garden of the good arts : low whirling moist mists surrounded jazzy and colorful priestesses dressed , and we were dancing in the fresh mourning garden , around the pillars of the temple of the medical arts . Inside on the attic was a gathering of doctors looking so engaged that it felt like there was some kind of crisis , hidden . Then Felicitas and I flew alongside the waves of the sea , on the beach , where soon we detected the stream of common people , obviously not dressed in jazzy colorful outfits . We cutified the saddest creatures and went on dancing and singing .

2 ( this one woke me up with a true feeling of severe partying - mind cells totally exhausted by creativity ) .

It was dawn , the party was over and we left the scene , that was set up at the University campus of Amsterdam , in the old old town . The police men watched us over , as we left , with our bodies stretched to all the stars and planets of the universe .

3 - an industrial plane , of empty store houses and other functional buildings . Inside I watched foundation member J being rolled over on a huge brick of stone , tied closely in ropes . Later she was set straight like this , on a home trainer . We realized ( for our selves ) , that her inner thighs would erode quicker this way . We biked in between a traffic stream of mere big trucks , and watched the next victim , as our bodies choked and slowly died of ' air pollution ' . It was a nice round faced blond girl , and we smiled at her , with all our might .

dream : industrial art

a round-faced man who worked in a factory had himself tickled with a feather under the soul of his foot and shared the delight full faced in camera .

dream : Berlin theatre

A large dark attic in Berlin City House . A and I were finally doing it , with clear organic-al delight , when the girlfriend came in . I named it , before letting it become a collapsed double explosion of victory , with all the atmosphere's bubbling , surely envisaged in her , after all I don't see myself. . . All these frozen silent asides whilst the Redhead exploded , and we could see her treatments , as they are . ( A had left the scene , of-course . ) Then the Madame of the Berlin Stage came in , also recognizing the actress in her and me , and . . there the dream ended . Happily.

dream : traveling'
A pure pan forwards ; sitting in a train , without knowing why , being in the stream , getting off , enjoying the plane , being There with all her sentiments of what Now - in terms of Economic Writing - may best be wrapped in : The European En-heritage of Copying Impressions : Poor little local girls , running after balloons on a mountain , a polluted mountain , in grey colors , wind moving . There was just enough time to Slurp it all in , at once , and then . . There was a train back , and I took it . No time to think , to be , to act . Only , as Debbie S . after the next pit stop righteously summarized , without actually having been there : ' only to produce a Big Bowl of Shit ' .
She summarized my journey with a smile , and factually turned out to be right . On the way back , studying my excrement was the main action . Yet wisely I realized not to discuss this , normally we don't , so . . . Why go into details again and again now ? So , as such , the dream progressed into yet another pit stop . This time my brother Dafit , sitting there in all his old weight , full of ease , ready to help me doing nasty phone calls . He talked about Divestments, and this to me was brilliant , the best that could happen . The right word to the right person , helped us change vehicles . Debra was still with us , we entered some new city - that reminded of home - on a Tricycle ( !) . And it was our destination to watch an art battle ; Jaques Brell in a So and So Brand ballet suit . And not to be fashionable . Jaques Brell , The Jaques Brell in this location , was defending something , with as much passion , as ( I appreciate in ; ) his songs , only now as it seemed he expressed this Sound in an improvised scene . May be acting , after a script , probably after him self . And who knows ... bouncing the theological quest of the possibility of the latter , as such: from the Global Agenda . His sweaty dancy body mimed a strong message . It read like : Come on you crazy idiots... It was The debate of the Century , but helas ; the impression came non amplified .

I was clearly not the creator of this dream.

dream : ' say what you wanna say '

Narrator has suggested to go see the Space of some Dr . Phillis , so I payed a visit . Yes , amazingly nice house , for students of the word and wisdom . A courtyard in the middle , and bath and bedrooms , kitchen and living leading towards this . Very homey , the king of the house was in a mess , when I was brought in : loud music , and stuff , chaotically all over the floor , covered in a longhaired carpet . It was the ' false niece ' or ' gay guy ' whom I knew from the fashion world , and his attention span considered a long tall lean blond boy , who seemed to have nothing to say . I was of course playful from the beginning , and found myself collecting things from the longhaired carpet . Bone-glue wrapped bath foam balls in sweet artificial colors were fished from the deepest surface , with my fingers , which was scary and a bit dirty - as I surpassed to express , but confessed to my own - and were to be collected in a glass-pot tagged "human neuroses". [the crux of the dream ] It was time to go . Last ' thing ' I saw , they had a girl behind in the kitchen-corner . She served peanut butter tosties , and tried to force the blond boyfriend into commune - outing on his taste. ' Thank You ' , was the only sound , he managed to squeeze out of his long lean flanks . I went back to the narrator , my father , who worked on the flea market . I told him I left The Dr . Phillis Etcetera' s , in - seeing him ( between his flutes and pipes ) - that working in the open air had its advantages . He did not seem too convinced , yet kept his mind closed . Next scene , I am the girl behind the kitchen-corner . A Californian record starts in a slow guitar yanking rhythm . In a high pitched voice , a sentence sung twirls up in the air . " Saaaayyy what you wanna saaaayyy . ." Above it my own alf like produces : ' Peanuts? ' It's in close harmony , yet all I expect is a punch in the face .

dream: court the mother complex ?

A Fellinian opening , picture wise , a wide angle capturing of , in the front M and S , in the back , a huge classic building , on giant impressive white marble steps . And then all of a sudden , in the middle , a lean young figure making careful steps , direction out of the frame . ( Dr. Ir. Mr. ) F ! I' m following him inside the court building , without noticing how much faster his steps now are . I behave like a shadow . Then , he throws me a question , that I answer truthfully . We enter the arena to sit down , as the light dims and we are to watch a movie screen . I feel his hands massaging the front of my neck , the throat . It' s awfully skill full , he releases my feeling of suffocation and fear , his expert fingers freeing the key bone . I moan . It's good ! All of a sudden , the light turns on , and a small army of middle aged females enter the arena , in full defense . I call them names , leaving like a refugee. F has already disappeared .

dream : the good nature

All of my friends had an appointment with some civil servants , but the battle was won , and interactions were based on internal talents . There were the usual nerves but the usual slaughter was changed for some respect . Certificates-for-talent were given to the ex-slaves , and former detachment chiefs praised themselves rich with the human resource . I told the DJ he could go there as well , and even felt a bit sorry I myself could never reenter the ( so called ) ' social security system ' . ( An autobiographical dream ? )

Apparently our housing had changed into some tropical case . Astrid and I found a big turtle who tried to wash himself . We picked it up to help , noticing its shield was smeared with chocolate milk . When we washed it , the creature recognized our good intentions , and cooperated . From a wider perspective I then noticed ( the crux of the dream ) how the turtle changed into a fox.

(13-11-09)

dream : knights

Some tissue was breathing heavily behind bars of stale . As this appeared in a close up , a narrators voice reminded us that knights were raised on blood revenge . Hamlet and Horatio - 2 boys of around 12 years young - were ' playing ' in the horse stable . Horatio was teasing , and Hamlet slowly gave in .

(9-11-09)

dream : national social democratic prison ( 2 x )

Somehow we were outsiders , the neighbors , their cat and me , in an enormous wellness being center of perfect East block esthetics , with armed guards alongside the large large swimming lanes , capturing thousands of humans , who were supposed to "swim" or sport , whilst some of them , as I noticed , were raping each other , undisturbed
( females screaming were noticeable but kept undisturbed as a little inside scene ) . It wasn't nice , and we lost Sacha in the crowd . Meanwhile I changed cloth in one of the small wooden 'vacation' huts . As I changed from swimming into normal clothing , I noticed an assumed dead woman sitting in a chair , but opening the door to get out , she woke up , by the fresh air . Then we found Sacha , and could leave , the cat pissed long and large in the well kept garden with trying to become flowers , and hopefully we escaped to some outside freedom .

In the second national social democratic wellness being center , I was alone and naked , and fully trapped . Again a large swimming pool , to shape the human body , but being an outsider without the communal dress , it was clear this was a nightmare . Some friendly good people , cleaners, helped me to suggest to wear a cleaning cloth . I walked the borders of the architecture , large filtering machines , and big braintussue colored walls of concrete , wired with probably electrified ' barbed wire '.

dream : arrival

in an anarchist wellness being center an alf shot me in the limb with a dart sharp arrow . I was walking naked , because I saw the blood streaming . The walk stop came from a temple learning to love and devote and share the master Dj . Well done , alf .

Dream : ( ? )

Jesus was straight with the big bearded looser man, as me and my new
' sister ' from the bed ( room ) we shared , noticed . He took his filthy hand , fairly , and said : you have scratched your self , once again, and we are Told , Not To .

dream : one more time open

.. we - an old woman I did not know but who had fully hypnotized us , also by what she was doing, but actually because I may not wanted to admit, how intense it was to be in this space, probably because the dream is but a silent movie, and consciousness of the eye, very very shallow . She - the eye - drank every detail , however , and the dream happened in 3 parts !

part 1 : I was the eternal child - playing with his impressive assemblage of Dutch toys , an animation of our NorthernEuropean child hood , indeed . Even if PimPamPet itself did not come with the comment . I was laying on my stomach on the floor , watching the box , his possessions , seemingly associated with the old woman , who actually managed to give attention to yet another detail: a house mouse hole . F. was sitting in his chair, big and solid.

In part 2 the social layers came in : a well dressed , very healthy , person , dressed like a woman , came to put the plant on the heater ( so it died quickly ) . . and walked out . Another person came to care about the disabled / murdered plant.

I woke up being his body . Breathing in a quiet body and no pain in my wrists .

horror film scenario based on 'very sweet

dream' :

.. the setting was just perfect: a very large and big mansion of old style villa with all its gadgets in 1 space for 1 big gaze just 1 long take : Bar Library Fabric Store Industry Nature some very playful or desperate members took it as a train station, to sleep under blankets ( which made them the Couch Potatoes ), as I noticed, whilst the speediest quickest girl friends , ' did ' everything, and made us listen to their playful interactive stories, making me join in ( more than to consciously communicate ) . I mean , why take anyone or anything too serious in this very frightful world made to melt our insides ? We did talk about the male sex , again , with D. S . making 'points' with an etymological punch. Pen Is . Yes, yes, So, to be sure I asked her, History was always written in his Piss ? She did not deny, but never accepted sour faces about it . As the villa saltened away .

dream : on financial sultanas

images of money in male suit packets and the dances around the transference in a clearly slutty life sphere. The art may be easier and healthier for the race, now that the miniskirt still exists . ( Not knowing about the nuclear freezer and certainly not trying to design performance workshops to deal with that ) .

dream : the set up - corrupt state
realistic nightmare ( b-movie )

part 1 - impressions of the art world
M - the costume maker - invited me over to her home town The Hague . The city was ' open ' , I noticed , just like Amsterdam . The layers of stone are scratched open to stuff cables under the tree roots . Then we went inside ; M's family business store was running another butchery . A small shop , with a gigantic ' desk ' annex freezer made of glass , proudly presenting nothing but red meat . I caressed the glass and heard myself calling the shop 'authentic' . We went upstairs , funny encountering s with singing Hagenees people in the hallway . Then vague meetings with an artistic brother who was also a cultural entrepreneur in media , making video advertisement montages targeting - lets say - the big mass of nouveaux bourchoixy : young families with babies , selling them the dream of the nouveaux riche: having a private boat , watching the little one growing up on one's own deck .

part 2 - settle up / accountancy by the 'police'

High way . Marjan and I were sort of arrested : sitting next to the driver's seat in the enormous van of a police man . The story is unclear. The police man tells us, we were waiting for the public transport bus . I thought this was hinting for a happy end, and a normal proceeding , and held Marjan ' s hand , sending positive energy filled with : hope . On the other side of the highway the bus arrived , it said ' James ' on its side , and that meant this was the public transport bus . ' James ' stopped , policemen arrived , people were send out and were arrested , in the classic way , as we knew it from television , But before the image came through , our very own policeman jumped out of the Van , keeping us inside , whilst setting the vehicle in motion , in an accelerating speed .
In between modes I knew this was a setup to make us disappear - opened the door , grabbed our bag , and dragged M . and myself in the berm , before hitting them noticing the remnants of pomp tank station attributes in the grass , all the while feeling we were trapped in a set up , not of our own design , and probably would bleed to death the next hour .

dream : the purity of child

I awoke in Kosovo in a tour with my stepmother, about beta blockers, whilst shopping the post-war streets.

All girls from ballet school are graduating as Artists . The Dream stopped especially at my miniature, some well plastered silky pink box. The evaluation was negative and I heard myself defending ' keys ' of ' translation ', but the Silence' s critic was: lack of solidarity .

dream : goddesses

Wrap Up String Lingerie wires the underbellies of two otherwise undressed yet fierce priestesses . One inaugurates the other in a ritual of hair painting , first the exposed lower insides thereafter the head hairs . The sea slams her waves at our bunker , whilst next to the underground palace the high way's motors rage .

dream : the telepathic phase

He showed me some figures behind the diamond , and I complimented him, rabbling about Sand and Water . Which he responded to with an image of less figural days, when he decided to make ' animations ' of : coupling animals . Woo ( pornography ) . It was time to go . He blew a wish to my wrists and I woke up , from silent arms .

titles deeds of works of fiction by the same author

METROPOOL a triptych for the stage

LIJK a deco fiction novel

DIAGRAM a SPEECH IN SPACE SCENARIO a novel play

F ( X ) = X 2 - 2 a Valley Para bole in words a short story

Holiday on War a novel essay

Puppet Master Poetry
Little Nemo and the Birthday Thief a musical play for children

The Friend of the Producer Explosive TV serial

Floris & Lea, The Tantra Typist , annual fictional feuilleton
Pussy Penny

Publications

Dream Preface

dream diary in the comp. of Ingeborg Houwen

Uksfu01

dream diary
in the comp.
of Ingeborg Houwen