The Last Dreamday from Gotland-Thank you Visby And So Long!

Today everything is back to normal again. People are back at their jobs. The schools are open. And I am back in Dreamday business again. But something is different. I am in a new cafe. This time in Gothenburg.


I found this cafe last week when going to the movies with my old friend Frida. We were going to Hagabion in the afternoon and wanted to get a coffee before the movie. The café inside Hagabion was closed and we were both disappointed. We took a walk around the block and found this place called Starcups on Plantagegatan where I am sitting right now writing this story. It is not anything like Hedbergs Bok och Musik Café in Visby. But it is quiet and they have wireless internet. In other words: A new Dreamday hideout. Time has come to finally wrap up some old stories.


When I first came to Visby to work at Riksutställningar in August 2008 I had problems finding something to do in my spare time. I guess I was going through the same phase as I did during my first weeks in Albuquerque. When I got off work at five in the afternoons I had endless evenings with absolutely nothing to do.


This was during my so called pre-Hedberg-times, of course. It is in those moments that you sometimes make desperate decisions. Mine was to sign up as a volunteer at a small Cinema called Roxy on Adelsgatan in Visby.

Around the same date as I signed up, there was a short-film festival going on at the cinema. I was easily convinced to go. But for the first film I was late for some reason and had to sneak inside the dark theatre to find myself a seat. In the break before the next film I noticed I had chosen a seat next to an old man. And in the next second I saw his socks. It said ROXY on them with big letters. They were almost glowing in the dark. I don´t know from where it came, but all off a sudden I turned to the man and said: Nice Socks! That was the beginning of a long conversation about feet and a new friendship.




Roxy did not turn out to be my saviour, eventhough I was happily surprised that the sock man was actually working there. After some weeks in Visby, things took care of themselves. Like they always do. I found Hedbergs cafe by chance. I met many wonderful people. And my mind would once again wonder off into some odd project. May it be Karl-Gustav, Albuquerque, Visby, or even my old Gothenburg. It is all about finding peace in your soul to be able to think and write freely and to notice the people and the stories around you.

The autumn passed by quickly as new routines were formed. And my new path in life seemed to be pointing in just the right direction. Every once in a while a Dreamday question would pop out from my mouth at work. And every third week I kept going to Roxy to sell tickets and exchange a few words with the sock man.






This did not change my life all at once, but slowly, without even noticing at first, the Dreamdayproject started to follow me as it never had before. At Riksutställningar, Hedbergs, Roxy or wherever I was at the moment I could not look at any situation without seeing it through a pair of Dreamday glasses. Every situation became a potential Dreamday scenario. And every person was a Dreamday. Even the sock man.

So on my last day at Roxy it was his turn along with his machine-man-trainee Ulla, as well as Rosita, my co-worker at the ticket counter.

Rosita was the first one out on the dreamday catwalk. Her dreamday is a quiet day with good food and people around her.



Next one up on stage was Ulla. Her dreamday would be to read a new book by the author Jonathan Kellerman.



...and the sock man?

Well at first we went back to the machine room where he showed me all the tapes and the machines and how they worked. He told me he had worked as a machine man in different movie theatres all his life, except for the time when he was a UN-soldier a long time ago. He told me he had worked on the very last night at Röda Kvarn in Stockholm, showing the very last movie, before they closed down many years ago.

He told me stories about a dog he was taking care of from time to time who had sat down to poo in the middle of a crossing one time so that they had been blocking a street filled with cars.

And he told me about his mother´s chairs that had been sold on an auction after her death and that Hedbergs Bok och Musik Café had bought them and that one day he had found himself sitting on one of them...







And the Dreamday question?

I finally got to ask it of course. I have it all recorded, my evidence of yet another Dreamday... Not that I had to record it really, because I remember it by heart, and I think I always will. But when coming this far in the story I took the decision to keep it to myself.

When I was trying to write it down I just could not find a tool, small and delicate enough, not to hurt this vulnerable dreamday. That is why this one will remain a secret, at least for now.

And if you are curious to know, just take a look around you. The world is full of sock people. You might not notice until you happen to sit right next to one. When you throw out a random question and take time to listen to the answer, very carefully. However, sometimes these sock people can be difficult to spot. Because when I think about it, the last way to recognize them is probably through their socks.

Thank you Visby for all the people that I met and the stories and the secrets that you gave me.



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A Chapell + An Auction + A Nun = My Dreamday

Often when I ask someone about their Dreamday I get a question back about what my own dreamday would look like. It is a fair enough question I guess, since I have asked it myself quite a few times by now...


However the question is not an easy one to answer. And it is not because I haven´t given it any thought over these last seven years. As a matter of fact it is quite the opposite. Throughout the years I have thought about the question almost every day and I have seen my dreamdays change over and over. That is why I can´t really pick one. I guess my conclusion is that dreamdays vary. They depend on the day before and the one after. They depend on your expectations and your needs in that particular moment.

This dreamday of mine took place on a Sunday almost two weeks ago. The night before I had received a message from a friend from work asking me if I wanted to join her and a friend on a short road trip. I didn´t see the message until early Sunday morning. My first thought was NO! I had not slept very well and had woken up way too early for a Sunday morning. I was in a sad an melancholic mood and just felt like staying at home in my pyjamas all day. Besides it was grey and rainy outside, not a perfect day for a road trip either.

But I guess it is in those moments that you actually choose what you want to make of your life. I texted my friend back and said: Sure thing, I will come along...

A couple of hours later we were on our way towards the south west part of Gotland. Alessa and her friend Didi had read something about an auction in this place called Tofta. We headed in that direction and made a few stops along the way. Slowly my mood was getting lighter.

We looked out for the Tofta sign that would lead us to the auction but nothing came up. Eventually we saw a church called Tofta Church on the left hand side but a couple of meters later there was a sign saying we had just drived through Tofta. We got in a short moment of crisis. Should we turn back or just keep going? We decided to make a U-turn and go back...




Then just around the corner, next to the church, we noticed a big sign saying CAFÉ. We wouldn´t have seen it if we hadn´t turned back. We got an impuls to wait with the auction and go for coffee instead. The auction could wait! We drove over to the parking lot and parked the car. For a second we got worried it might not be open, but false alarm. The door was open and we stepped inside a warm and cosy place. It looked like a small church which I guess explains the name of the place: Kapellet, ( The chapell) In that moment I knew this would be the beginning of my dreamday.




The room was empty and quiet and on every table there was a candle burning. We passed on to the next room and spotted a plate with freshly baked buns. I got so excited! We ordered coffee from the woman just peeking out from the kitchen and then we sat down. I felt like a child jumping up and down from excitement.



Then something magic happened. While drinking our coffee we started telling each other these odd stories about our grandparents. Didi told us about his grandmother and that she would have been a hundred years old today. Alessa told us about her grandmother who spoke to her after her death. She had travelled all her life around Sweden with her children and one day she came to Gotland, where Alessa just now happened to be living for a few months. I told them about my grandparents in Greece. About my grandfather who fought in the first World War and died during the second. How his foster parents died from grief when it was reveiled he was adopted and he left home to fight in the war. We spoke about how stories keep repeating themselves and patterns start forming.




After finishing our coffees we went over to look at the small things that were for sale. We saw some candle holders that were white and fragile. They looked like old broideries but made out of ceramic. They were like frozen memories of a grandmother. When we saw them I think we all started to shiver. Then one sign after the other came to us. There was an old picture of a grandmother and her grandchild. There was a poem on the wall that spoke of the memories of your grandparents.



Suddenly the woman came up to us. We could not keep all these coincidences to ourselves and so we started to tell her about the stories that had just come to us. As if the spirit of the house had given them to us.



When we left we felt excited and joyful. Eventually we got to the auction. We looked around and it was nice. We looked at the people and the things, took a few pictured and left.



After that the day went on with this really comfortable flow. We took a walk by the sea in the cold and grey weather. It was windy and cold. But we felt alive and touched by the moment.





Then we got hungry. We saw a pizza place out in nowhere and they just happened to be open for a few hours in the late afternoon. We bought three of them to go and drove off to a small fishing cottage that Alessa and I had seen some other time a couple of months ago. It was getting dark and inside the abandoned cottage we found a couple of candles. We lit them and ate our pizzas.



In this house other stories came to us. They were all about houses and I told them about a house that I have dreamt of all my life. This house is in Greece, on a small island. We spoke about our dreams and what we feel is our destiny and mission in life. Once again I was reminded about my dream to fix that house. How I felt it is my only mission on this earth.



One candle after the other went out, when the last one was almost dead it was completely dark outside. We packed our stuff and went back to the car.

I thought the day was over there. And I was happy and content. We drove back to Visby listening to some songs on the radio and I went through the day and the stories in my head.

When we got back to Visby we rested a little bit at Alessa´s place. I was almost on my way home, starting to get tired. But then we got hungry for dessert and an hour later the three of us were walking down the dark and narrow streets of Visby towards our new goal.

We got to the main square and noticed a sign saying "Jam session-tonight". The place was called The Nun. We stepped inside and were immidiately welcomed by a warm and cosy atmosphere. A couple of people were sitting and playing together. On the wall behind them I noticed a greek flag and the name Vasilis written in Greek. I asked the young waiter if he was Greek and he replied that he was and that his dad is called Vasilis and he is the owner of the place. He pointed towards one of the guys playing the guitar in the corner of the room. Vasilis waved to us to say hello.



We ordered saffran pancakes and beer. A strange combination but it was nice. Then we were slowly drawn into the atmosphere. Wasn´t in fact this a dreamday to all of us? I could not prevent myself from asking my same old dreamday question...



After that the night continued and all of a sudden I was sitting with a guitar in my hand and Alessa was singing a song from Tyrolen. Everyone was in a really heartly and friendly mood. We clapped our hands and sang along. I remember thinking that when life is like this I don´t care about the day before or after. I was living and existing in the moment and felt no worries or anguish. I wanted to seize the clock. To be in the middle of something where no past or future exists.

When buying another beer in the bar the young waiter shows me a book. It was about people living in Gotland and he showed me the page about his dad. I started reading and I shivered for the second time that day. This man was born in Athens in the old town, just a block away from where my grandmother used to live and where my dad was born.

I continued reading. His story was dramatic and romantic. When he was 28 he wanted to travel and experience the world. He jumped on a truck and aimed for Vienna. ( Where Alessa and Didi are from) But he never came to Vienna. Instead he travelled every where else in the World. With the dream of Vienna he finally found the love of his life on Gotland. I was touched by the story and felt how every detail during this day was mysteriously connected. I got back home at about 1 am and I fell asleep with a smile on my face. How beautiful isn´t life after all? Continue Reading

A Long Story for a Short Dreamday

Yesterday I went for a coffee in a cosy café called Gula Huset here in Visby, Gotland.
Since I was right in the middle of finishing my last post about the couple in Göteborg I thought I would bring my computer along and finish it off with a cup of coffee.




The café is very small with wooden tables and old fashioned coffee cups. I take a seat by the window and unpack my computer. I get my coffee and begin to write. After a while the small room starts getting crowded. Since I sit by a big table I thought I would be nice and leave it for bigger companies. So after a while I take my things and move over to a small window table just next to a family with two small children.





I am just about to start writing when all of a sudden the man in the family leans over to me and asks: -Do you have wireless internet? Yeah, sure I do, I respond, quite proud of my new 3G-mobile broadband... Well, could you move a little bit further away he says. I got really surprised and looked at him. Oh ok...

-I got my dose of radiation at the library today, he continues, and it really disturbs me. It makes me feel sick. Actually I could feel the signal from where you were sitting at the other table as well, he says. Alright I say and start mumbling something about all the signals that exist around us today and so I say: Well, I can just move back to the other table then...-Thanks I really appreciate it, he says.

And there we go again, balancing a cup of coffee and the computer back to the old table by the window. I begin to write but my mind is unfocused. Why did I not just tell the guy what a stupid idea that is that it would be my computer giving away radiation? The radiaton or signals or whatever you call them, already exists out there, regardless if I am connected or not, or am I wrong?



Anyway, in a little while the family is gone and I can start writing again. I go for a second round of coffee and while drinking it and writing the last lines on my blog a woman from another table comes up to me and says: Is it OK if I take a picture of you when you sit there and write? It just looks so interesting with the combination of old and new, the old café and the modern laptop, she says. Sure I say and try not to pose while staring at the computer.

I finally finish my post on the blog and decide to put the computer back in my bag. I take up a little note book that I have decided to use only for writing down my dreams that I have at night. I start writing down a dream of mine that I had about a week ago about a house that my family owns in Greece. The dream had made such a strong impression on me and I wanted to write it down in detail so I would not forget it.

After writing for a little bit I needed to go to the bathroom. I left my cup and notebook on the table. The toilet is next to the small courtyard and I step outside. When coming back I pass the table where the ladies were sitting who took the picture of me. I smile for myself while thinking what a bizarre afternoon this had been so far. When I get back to the table I get another surprise. I have company. Across the table there is an old man sitting with a cup of coffee, a big sandwich and a book. -Now you have company he said! Ok, that is nice I respond and sit down.

He asks me what I am writing. I am writing down a dream I had some time ago, I said. He gets curious and I tell him about the dream briefly. Then he said: I have two dreams that I had a long time ago and that I still remember very clearly. They are about being lucky and being saved, he says. He starts telling me these dreams in detail and at the same time I remember thinking that right now I must be the luckiest person to get to hear a stranger´s dream, just like that, simple and unpretentiously over a cup of coffee...

That is when I get the idea: Maybe I can take this chance to ask the man what his dreamday would look like. I could not stop myself and a few minutes later I start telling him about my dreamdayproject. He was not overly excited about the question at first. But then he starts thinking and he says:

" Well, first of all, it involves a woman to accompany me. It is a day spent either by the sea or in the mountains. If it is by the sea there is probably a boat involved, and if it is the mountains maybe some hiking. The day is about the joy of spending time with a woman that you care for and to wake up together and fall asleep together at night."

After that we continue our small talk for a little while and eventually I open my note book and start writing it all down. The man takes up his book as well and says. -This is a good book, but it is really hard to read. But I try to force myself to read a little bit in it every once in while...

Hm... I think for myself. Why do we force ourselves to read difficult books when our dreams are so different? Continue Reading