(01) Ace of Cups.
Going back to a simpler time in a place I have been to before. This was elementary school, just before the change to high school happened. Actually, a couple of years before the school change. The buildings were open and allowed much natural sunlight in the classrooms. I remember day dreaming every day, and the teachers asking me to please not drift out the window. A sheepish smile was all I allowed because I wasn’t ever ashamed of being a dreamer. More than ten years down the line, I still smile about it.

Looking around for — you guessed it, — my beloved. As I joined him, our hands entwined and we got lost in the most loving stare. Our gaze was devoid of resentment for him getting lost, which would happen about fourteen years later. That’s two sets of seven years, and constitutes a very long time. We both knew he would get lost; we also knew of the radical changes and adventures my life would turn to after it all happened. We even knew about H, A and F. Did we care? The gaze was loving, compassionate. We absolutely did not care.

Suddenly we are driving through memory, and it’s just us two in the car but we haven’t realized we’re not old enough to drive yet. We are laughing, just as we always do when we play some Lady Gaga, IAMX or Blutengel. The day is ours, and in our lovers rapture, we could do as we please.

We’re back in school. It could be the day after. Mom is there, accompanied by a man I know I have not met. He seems friendly but I don’t trust him, so I stay away. When he catches me by myself in the second floor, he corners me and cuts my hand. The wound doesn’t bleed at all, and by the time my beloved and my Mom get there, my entire world is spinning. The floor spins, I lose touch of reality and before I know it my mouth opens and I start to purge. When did I ever turn into a fountain? The substance is grey and smokey, and most likely covered the whole floor.

(02) Two of Cups. Swimming towards a buoy in a massive lake… or is it the sea? It’s endless, I can’t see real land in any direction save for this floating device. Climbing onto it, I notice that it’s all red. Red for passion, red for anger. Looking back out, all I see is blue in the sky and blue in the churning sea. No earth, no land. Must be around 4 P.M. I think about putting an end to “whatever this is” and I cut off the cable to the light bulb. It dies out.

Somewhere in the vacuum of dreams, something else happened but my mind fails to collect it. I know it happened, I just can’t remember where I was or exactly who I was with. There was somebody else there, but my mind represses it. Was it Mom? Was it my beloved? Was it someone I have ever met in person? Consciousness dissolves the messages as if they were not for us in the first place. I know there was someone there.

It’s all coming back to me now. I see her face, fair, framed with dark eyebrows. Her hair flowed in abundant curls, but she had cut them off. Anjanette, my dear Anjanette… not so dear anymore.

We couldn’t avoid each other fast enough, but there she was. Fair, slender and still jaded. She looked at me through piercing eyes, but we had our moment somewhere in a public place. It looked like a mall, one familiar but not quite known. Spliced between Puerto Rico and Sarasota, the places that killed our mutual love. There she was, we shared a moment we will share no more.

(03) Three of Cups. Somewhere between reality and fantasy lies an auditorium full of people. The rumble of the ground creeps into the land, reverberating into the core of the Earth.

There he stood amongst the crowd staring back at me. I could not mistake the gaze of those blue eyes and how stricken it was with melancholy, whereas it was only met by confusion. After turning to descend the steps to look for my beloved — as usual, — I find myself face to face with the stranger. I haven’t met him before I don’t think, not in dreams and certainly not in reality. He mouthed, “my name is Cole.”

I walked closer and waved, but found him nearly motionless save for the quivering of his soul. He had tears welling in his eyes as if he has seen a ghost. The melancholy he radiated was heavy, bothersome in fact. He seemed desperate to get his message out, but words failed him and he stood there instead. The cheers of the hungry crowd roared on, unaware of the moment shared between what felt like two before entwined souls that had lost one another.

As I walked past, I felt the cold wave that pressed down upon him affecting me, and I smiled to him. It was a reassuring smile that everything will be okay even if I couldn’t tell what was wrong.

“It would have been polite to ask him,” was the only thing I could think of when I woke up today.

(04) Four of Cups. 9th grade art class once more? There I was, there she was once more with her dark curls and round eyes. Anjanette. We didn’t speak all the while. Instead i focused on my work, the things that i really needed to do. That was much more important. The bell rang and I walked to the lockers. Once more familiar, but I couldn’t find my own so I walked past them without a care.

Who takes a Math test in English class? Meanwhile there was another teacher the to distract us. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. The bell rang and I went to History class, which was much less friendly. As I went down the stairs, I reminded myself to enjoy this because it would not be forever. I am not always going to be reliving sweet melancholy.

I found Anjanette once more, sitting at the other end of the room. I sat on the second chair after my first seat was taken and listened to a girl argue with her teacher in German. Apparently she was an overachiever and she wanted extra work, while the teacher assured her it wouldn’t be necessary. No one else seemed to care. Truth, none of the three classes I just took were friendly and I certainly didn’t enjoy them, but they are always my best subjects.

When school was out, I walked through the halls and they were all still intact in my memory. Every detail, every shadow, every dream-locked locker. Nothing has changed since last time I dreamed of school.

(05) Five of Cups.
Where is this city? It has a Moroccan feel. There are drapes everywhere. Pick up the pace, there is a strange man in pursuit; his motives don’t look at all friendly. Walking round the corner, breaking into a sprint or a run won’t make much of a difference, what will is putting some distance between us. Jumping out the back, through gates and hidden alleyways is the only form of escape. Soon the only alternative is to turn around and face him. When that happens, hands come out of nowhere. The scene shifts and there are Russian spies all over the place. Their leader is a sleek man in a suit; come to think of it, they’re all in suits. They all reek of danger.

When they release their prisoner, the excitement doesn’t last very long. They are ambushed by a rain of bullets, after which the scene dissolves.

(06) Six of Cups.
Traveling back to simpler times, I find myself in high school with J. Impossible, but well… So is the language of dreams. We both wanted to go to lunch together, but I didn’t make it out of class in time so I went to my locker and was surprised to find him there with his things. The cafeteria had a super long line, it seemed silly to wait for it. He was in a terrible mood so I let him go off on his own. Instead I walked to the front of the school, where I saw a boy from the adjacent school had left his girlfriend a cute gift. He put treats into clear balloons and called it Gia’s Great Powerball, simulating the lottery. I thought it was quite cute, and I waited a while to see her reaction but she never came. J did instead. We held hands for a while, locking them as if they were the very bond between our souls.

Speeding through the streets with Dad. They seem futuristic and whimsical, but still have the essential look of the streets of Puerto Rico. I get to a dock but there is no one there, then J comes out to meet us. J and I both get in different ships, his zooms off impossibly fast, whereas mine drags itself impossibly slow. When we make it out the other side, my luggage never makes it. I thought it would, but nothing is in place or seems impossibly big. I finally find the one I think it is, but when I open it, I realize it belongs to a dog owner.

(07) Seven of Cups.
Words of wisdom were amicably whispered, but I failed to catch from who or why. Come to think of it, I can’t even remember what was being said, or how it’s supposed to help. It could have been a voice from beyond or my conscience trying to usher me through the darkness, but I have no idea what it was. The night was dark and full of danger, couldn’t really tell who is friend and who is foe. The moon would say nothing to aid with this dilemma.

A band plays inside a cute Spanish-influenced house. There is really no crowd, just me standing there. It doesn’t take long to realize that band is KoRn, but I can’t tell which song it is they’re performing. Jonathan Davis is killin’ it, but I’m not really feeling the vibe. A feeling of confusion washes over me, none of these disjointed messages make any sense. What am I doing here? How did I get here?

Dreams can be quite difficult to stomach sometimes. Some of the messages I have received feel like they come from the subconscious. I have seen fears and dreams projected in them, which makes them completely personal. Sometimes I think they are uninteresting to others because of how personalized they are. I am surprised by how consistent the themes are, and wonder how much that will change when I pass to another deck of cards. It will be interesting to condense the predominant symbols of the dreams into a list. I'm thinking of a few things to add to this, which should be interesting to read through... at least I hope so.

If anybody is also logging their dreams, I'd be happy to read any that they want to share as well.

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