memories and flashes

My memories are like thunderbolts: they light up for a second, a minute or more minutes, then vanish back into  darkness. Where they stay…  while again just being memories.



What happened in Verona in 1117 and the witches in Bamberg

Today, I dreamed the most interesting dream I ever dreamed. It was about an old dark ages townhall with demonic architecture, and about Verona, Italy, which was full of signs of an earthquake, and some lootings.

I was in a little German town, with quite a normal inner city, when it became suddenly dark and weird and there was no tarmac / asphalt anymore, only dark mud and dirt, and it was kind of autumn or winter, at least there were no leafs on the trees. I had something with me, don’t know what it was exactly, but it was kind of a cart or somehow, and I had difficulties to walk because the mud was so deep and damp and I stuck in it all the time, and then I was in front of this huge townhall, with so many demonic figures on the front, and many other people were there too. I had my camera with me and the people asked, why I would not make any pictures with it. But I could not, it wouldn’t work and I was desperate, but I could not make it work at all. Then there was this woman with dark long hair, she asked me to go, that we had to go, she urged me to go somewhere else, and I said, yes, I would like to but I have to have a photo of this townhall first.  Then she was going on her own, and I tried to follow her, but because of the mud it was so difficult. She asked me to hurry up, and then there were two tramps lying in the mud, and there were so many puddles, that we could not find our way out, in the meantime the city was normal again, with a mall and all that is normal in our time.  The woman urged me still to go somewhere or to come with her. She ran in front of me, and she was so fast I could not keep up with her. There was a tree that was fallen and it was lying like a bridge, she was encouraging me to get on it because it was the only opportunity we had to get down and to a normal street, (well it was a dream and it is difficult to explain), and by that time she was Jenna Elfman, or she looked at least like her. Then she was already down there on the street and I said to myself, okay, I will try that and I ran down the tree trunk, always in fear to fall. But I managed to get down to earth (wow, this sounds weird now), and there was a bus, which was completely full actutally, Jenna had asked them to wait for me. She asked some young people in the bus to squeeze up and she sat down in the bus, asking me to come too. But I was afraid because I hate when it is full in a bus and she still asked, but I started to cry.  All of a sudden, I did not see her anymore and she was nowhere anymore.  So I did not take the bus.

Next  I  was in Italy, Verona. I was sitting on a bus, and we were driving around. I was so happy to be somewhere else, to see new things. It was definitely Verona, the way it looks today. I saw all the colorful buildings, which I really liked, and the road traffic, some  mopeds drivers, and the whole atmosphere was so lively and interesting. I enjoyed being there. But then, I saw all the signs of an earthquake, with all the roads being ripped and the porous asphalt, which had so long rifts, that it really scared me. Then the bus stopped in the middle of the road, and we all got up, stepped out of the bus. We saw another bus which had been pulled into the asphalt, into a rift, and it was stuck in it. It showed out of the asphalt half, only the upper side of the bus was seen. I was so scared and so shocked, I could not bare it. There were lootings, and gangsters were trying to steal people’s money and it was all very dangerous and chaotic. Then I ran from a man, who saw me and wanted to catch me, he had a gun, but I tried to hide in a small hotel room where obviously four people were sleeping, but I asked to be as quiet as possible, only the mobster had found me and was outside the door, waiting for me.

I looked it up, there was a huge earthquake in Verona in 1117, on January 3rd.  It was a very huge earthquake that also took place in Germany, and in Bamberg.  A long and painful witch hunting took place in the dark ages in Bamberg. The Michaelskirche (church) in Bamberg  also suffered some damage from the earthquake. 1435 it was subject to some plundering, or pilferage, don’t know what word fits best here, because there was a conflict with the bourgeoisie or at least with the middle classes of that time.

It is said though, that there were three earthquakes in a row that occurred and that there was an earthquake in south Germany 12 hours before it was in Verona.


I think it gets to be spooky. 8e8292e97c1a5fa1f0b8e608eddae008

drawing without a desk…

Back to “creativity” again. Only, not so much.  It’s a bit difficult to work without a desk.   Without anything to do is as worse as it can get. I need something to do.  Also, to get me distracted from my thoughts and my past events – it’s just essential. Or I will fall. Into a deep and dark space.

Plus, I need to express my pain. Other than that, I don’t know.  I am so confused.



I was 11 years old all over again

You might think, there isn’t such a thing like time-traveling. But there is. When you go through the same thing again, which shocked you then, it can shock you that much in the present moment, that, all of a sudden, you are back in time and going through the same package of emotion and stress again.

That happened to me. So, afterwards, I acted the same way I did when I was 11 years old at the incident. Same thing, same action. All over again.

Today I feel ashamed I acted like a 11-year-old. But I could not know better…

Today I understand better, or yet I believe so, what drove the “incident” to happen, I guess I can say that I am not angry anymore the way I was, but it is so much shame in me, over all this. I am a grown woman and I did not act that way. I feel sorry for that, but my life was so messed up at that time and I was a piece of nothing… a real nothing and full of resentment and no-say. I wanted just quiet and lonely, and could not work with anything, but with nothing, because that was what I needed. I wasn’t at a place where anything could have happened. Or, no, that is not true either. But I was not ready for this really, I lied to myself strictly and caused just the more pain to myself through that behavior. It was a lie that lasted at least 5 long years, and I was a mess.

I wish I could go back and do everything just a little bit different. Be in a different (better) state, have more understanding and more like, well my own real self with me.  But that is impossible. I passed up this very special moment and made it into something weird, but I am not so sure if that was under my control at all because I wasn’t alone, was I? So, there is only this one version of the incident, or am I wrong?  If not, I would like to hear/read  the other version, so much…

You could even say I am grateful today, because I understand (perhaps) the reason and why it was necessary (although….) in the first place. Only, I suffer a little bit of amnesia, from that moment on, and probably nothing will come back (some of it has in my dreams, though). Or maybe I am completely wrong here and it was all just a coincidence, me overreacting here and also then. But what is for sure is that I became to be an 11-year-old again and that was the only thing I know, and if there was anything more going on or not, I know I was not myself from that moment on. Either hypnotized, or even under the influence of fear, or the stupid thought of suffering, or even under some influence of substance, from that moment on I can’t tell anymore. I wish I could…

From the “code language” on some shows though, I can read some stuff out of it. Some I do understand, some I don’t. Or some is just delusional something for me, which I want to make something out of.

But I guess, I understood quite right. broken_heart I can’t even be cross with… It just doesn’t seem right. I wasn’t okay with it, but I forgive and I hope so much he forgives me to for my behavior. I was so naive…

A metaphorical storytelling

The story I wrote, then, in 2002, or better, from 2002 until 2004, was more written in a metaphorical sense, than about facts or real fiction. At least, that is what I think now. Today, I understand what I meant, when I wrote that “she divorced him, and she lived in a big house full of memories and old furniture, which she was not allowed to sell, and him always allowed to use the house still, even though he did not need the house because he owned five other houses and flats/ apartments. She did not want him to come back but at the same time, she wanted it so bad, and when he showed up, she was confused or even annoyed, because he was so mean to her and he had so much power, she couldn’t even win over him in a jurisdictional manner, because it was his house and she was only allowed through him to live there… She loved him and she hated him (and the same goes for him, he felt the same about her), and he had so expensive lawyers that she was out powered by him… she couldn’t afford a lawyer, and so she waited and waited and tried to find out about her feelings and what she wanted, but also she was struggling with it all because she did not want to lose the house, she loved it so much.” Well, that was the fiction part, I will not go into details, that is too personal. But, the thing is, she was afraid of his power, and one sentence goes like this: ” his lawyers were so expensive, that they were also always the best.”  Another sentence: “the pressure on her began to be stronger and stronger each day, and forced her into an isolation she never would have thought it would exist.”

That he shows up every once in a while means, well, the thoughts I have of him, that I can’t let him go and the whole story, and the house in general means that  I am caged and that it’s like a prison to my thoughts and feelings of the past moment.