Showing posts with label Visby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Visby. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

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.



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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.

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Jag säljer biljetter

Rickard,Ulla, Rosita, jag
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...

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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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Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Pyjamas Dreamdays

Almost exactly three years ago I was working at MARCO (Museo de Arte Contemporaneo) in Monterrey, Mexico for a few months. My supervisor was a very strict woman and she was also the head of education in the museum. I must admit that from the very first day she scared me a little bit. She was tall and had a strong voice. Standing beside her I felt like a 12 year old girl.


I think it must have been at the same moment as I read her dreamday that I saw another side of her. And I started to like it. In that sense this dreamdayproject has become a tool for me to change my opinion about people by getting a glimpse of what is beneath their thick shell. My supervisor´s dreamday was simple and direct: Her only wish in that moment was to stay at home all alone and walk around in her pyjamas.

After reading that I could not help thinking about it whenever I would see her stressing to some meeting being dressed in an uncomfortable suit. It was so bizarre to see her doing all that when I knew that the only thing she really wanted to do was to stay at home in her pyjamas...

I thought about that story when I recorded another dreamday today. It was in the car back from lunch with some of my colleagues at Riksutställningar. The man that I am interviewing is the project manager of two projects that I have been working in. When hearing his dreamday I was struck by the similarities with my supervisor in Mexico. I was also once again thankful for the dreamday question making me discover another side of someone I realized I hardly knew.

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Sunday, September 07, 2008

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?
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