Shadowfiend23 @ Wrocław

I had a strange dream that I was in some kind of battle royale situation. I was locked inside a small village – where it was always twilight – and I was forced to kill every other combatant in order to escape. I won’t go into the details of the battles, but suffice it to say that it was brutal. I used my lucid dream abilities to stop bullets, to teleport, to throw spikes, to throw boulders, etc. I stood alone at the end of the competition in a square built for the winner. The commentators starting chiming in, saying how I was a monster for slaughtering the others so mercilessly. But I disagreed. I told them that I had done what I needed to, in fact, that I had beaten the system. I then raised my hands and wished for everyone to come back from the dead. And come back they did. So I had found a way to get everyone out of the arena alive – no one died in the end. The dream leapt forward one year, and I recognized one of the girls from the battle. She thanked me for saving her, telling me that she would be forever grateful.

I remember having many nightmares when I was little. I probably had a normal amount of them, but I felt like I was the only person in the world having so many nightmares (you don’t know much about other people as a kid). Anyway, one night when I was about six or seven, I remember having one particularly scary dream. A dream where I learned one of my first lucid dream tricks – how to prematurely end a dream. (and how to split infinitives : )    )

When the dream started, I was in the kitchen at my mom’s house. It was the middle of the night, which was probably inherently scary to me at this age. I was watching my sister Molly fold clothes in the living room. She was putting the folded clothes into a laundry basket that was sitting on top of a stool. Everything was normal at this point, but I remember feeling like there was an evil presence in the house. Something I didn’t understand. Suddenly, Molly started freaking out, seizing and thrashing all while dashing to and fro inhumanely quickly. Like a hummingbird. She collapsed in a heap, knocking over the stool with the laundry basket on it. The clothes formed a grinning face, with slanting, derisive eyes. I knew that something was wrong. Just then, I heard my dad laughing from somewhere downstairs, near the laundry room. But something wasn’t right. His laugh was too loud, too hearty. He sounded insane. I knew that he had been possessed by a demon. I started to become panicked. I decided to run up to the master bedroom, but as I ascended the staircase, it started to stretch up and up infinitely while also becoming frigid, icy, misty. My stomach dropped. I was paralyzed with fear. Just then, I decided, “No. No, no, no. I don’t need to go up there. I don’t like where this is going. This dream is not fun, and I don’t need to keep having it.” So I shut my eyes tightly, and squeezed. Squeezed as hard as I could. Suddenly, I woke up. In real life. And I was relieved.

I continued using this trick when I was younger, and I grew to love it. When I realized I was having a nightmare, all I needed to do was to squeeze my eyes in the dream, and consciousness, my old friend, was persuaded into staving off my tormented slumber – for a while, at least.

So I’m not sure how many posts I’m going to end up doing here, but I thought that it would be fun (for me and for others) to write down some of my dreams, the lucid ones especially.

After waking up early and getting more baked goods from a nearby boulangerie (a different one from the second day for those of you out there who are keeping track), Deanna and I watched some French cartoons! One of the best ones was SamSam, a cartoon that recounts the adventures of a 7-year-old superhero named SamSam ( a link:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SamSam  ). Among the cartoons we watched was My Little Pony : Les Amis, C’est Magique! (Friendship is Magic in English). I had a bit of trouble understanding the specifics of the dialogue, but I got the gist of the story. After lounging around for a while, Deanna and I decided to go to Place de Jaude, the de facto mall in Clermont-Ferrand, to find a way for me to use a phone in France (either buy one, or rent one, or configure mine somehow…). We needed to do this because, as I have said, the apartment search was not going well and we had already learned that most apartment listings basically required that you call the landlord. (you can email them, but I have not gotten a single response by email as of now – and it has been weeks since the first email was sent) Another reason that we wanted to go into Place de Jaude was that I had agreed to meet up near there with other assistants who were stationed in or near Clermont-Ferrand.

So without really doing nearly enough research, we waltz into Orange, one of the phone carrier giants in France, and try to explain the situation to the workers (in French, of course). I thought that I did a pretty good job, but when it came time to give them my address, the woman couldn’t understand the name of the street. I don’t know why she couldn’t, I was saying it just fine. She even called over another worker who spoke English so he could ask me “What’s your address?” even though I clearly had understood the question. I wasn’t really irritated, but I still didn’t get why they were confused. My guess is that the street was in an unknown part of town (it’s in Montferrand, which is an old part of town) and that it was a bit too small. Anyway, we figured it out and she inserted the new European sim card into my phone. And just like that – boom – I had tweaked my phone into being a French smart phone, with a brand spankin’ new number.

After leaving Orange, I called Pierrette, the woman of the couple who was hosting us, to tell her that I had gotten a phone. She cheerfully asked if Deanna and I would like to join her and her husband to have apératifs. I accepted the invitation, even though I was only partially sure about what that meant. (I correctly had remembered that that entailed eating little snacks and drinking wine while chatting) After that, Deanna and I headed off to meet the other assistants at the looming black cathedral near the center of town. (this is the cathedral you will likely see in google image searches of Clermont-Ferrand. It is iconic.)

We made our way back to the main square and met up with other assistants from the TAPIF program. We all bought sandwiches from a little vendor nearby and ate them on the steps outside of centre Jaude. It was pretty fun to talk to other people who were roughly in the same boat as us, but we couldn’t relax very well because the apartment search was a dark, bleak cloud looming over our mental horizons. So after some prodding from Deanna, we said our goodbyes to the assistants, left the square, and went back to our little room in MontFerrand.

After making a few more apartment searches on leboncoin, we set up two apartment viewings : one was at 11:00 am the next day (Saturday) near the center of CF, and the other one was for right then and there – assuming we could find where to go. I tried to follow the directions given to me by the landlord, but I couldn’t quite understand him. I thought I heard him say “eglise Saint-Pierre”, which is in Centre Jaude, but he was actually saying the name of a church in Beaumont, a small neighboring village to CF. So basically Deanna and I wasted a train ticket and more time going to the wrong church and standing up a potential landlord. When he discovered that he had gone to the wrong place, he seemed strangely calm about the whole ordeal and ended up just saying that we could probably meet up tomorrow. After this small debacle, Deanna and I returned to our room quietly waited until our prearranged meeting with our hosts.

When the time came, our hosts greeted us outside our door and brought us up to a small sitting room. They brought out pringle-like chips, peanuts, and olives. We gabbed for a bit, snacking on the little morsels, until they offered to show us the cave beneath their house. Apparently, MontFerrand is a very old part of CF, and houses such as theirs were used to collect and store wine hundreds of years ago. They picked out a bottle of wine made by Remy’s family in the northwest of France and went back up to the little sitting room. We talked for a bit longer, and on our way out, Pierrette and Remy gave us a trove of fruit! We were so grateful because had pretty much only eaten sandwiches and bread up until that point. We went back down to our room and quickly collapsed into a deep sleep.

After sleeping from 11:00 p.m. or so until 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning, Deanna and I woke up and wandered out into the streets looking for a boulangerie (a bakery). Thankfully, we found one on a small side street after about 10 or 15 minutes. After walking in and trying out some of our slightly rusty French, we happily bought a croissant and a baguette. We were surprised by how cheap the baked goods were – the total came to about €1.80 ($2.43), which would be a steal in the U.S., especially for such tasty bread. We hiked back to our room and gobbled the bread with some of the leftover fruit from the night before.

We spent the next part of the day searching endless apartment listings, trying to find something that was going to work for us. We found an apartment that seemed pretty promising – and the address was not too far from our room – so we decided to hike over and check it out. The walk ended up taking way longer than we expected (maybe a half hour), and we ended up hating the location. So it seemed like we had wasted our time.

On our way back from the apartment, we decided that we needed to get something for lunch, so we stopped at a little sandwich place. They ended up having a pretty cool deal going on – for €7.50, we got an amazing sandwich, a drink, and a dessert. I got a kebab sandwich (which was great) and a coffee eclair. My drink was some kind of pop that tasted like carbonated Tang. So it was pretty good. Then, we walked back to our place and continued the apartment search. I got tired super early though, so I ended up going to bed at 7:00 or something crazy like that. And I slept until 5:00 a.m. the next morning, so I got a breezy 10 hours of sleep.

As a side note, I had a strange dream that I was in some kind of battle royale situation. I was locked inside a small village – where it was always twilight – and I was forced to kill every other combatant in order to escape. I won’t go into the details of the battles, but suffice it to say that it was brutal. I used my lucid dream abilities to stop bullets, to teleport, to throw spikes, to throw boulders, etc. I stood alone at the end of the competition in a square built for the winner. The commentators starting chiming in, saying how I was a monster for slaughtering the others so mercilessly. But I disagreed. I told them that I had done what I needed to, in fact, that I had beaten the system. I then raised my hands and wished for everyone to come back from the dead. And come back they did. So I had found a way to get everyone out of the arena alive – no one died in the end. The dream leapt forward one year, and I recognized one of the girls from the battle. She thanked me for saving her, telling me that she would be forever grateful.

My first two days in France are completed, and let me tell you – a lot has already happened. Let me start with the lead-up to the first day, including the trip here.

My first flight on my way to France was from Minneapolis to Reykjavik, a six hour flight. All in all, the flight was pretty uneventful. The plane had those TV screens on the back of each chair, so I ended up watching something pretty much the whole way. I watched three family guys, and two movies: The Incredible Burt Wonderstone and The Matrix: Reloaded. And I did all of that while playing my DS.The people seated to my left seemed to be an older hippy couple, so listening to them during the flight was pretty funny. Honestly, the flight was overall pretty great. I experienced the least amount of turbulence I can remember from all the flights I have taken. So that’s nice.

As the flight was coming to an end, we flew over a little bit of Iceland before coming to a stop in Reykjavik. The ground seemed to be a large expanse of black sand and craggy lava rocks. So naturally, it reminded me of Hawaii. My quick layover (about 30 minutes) in the Reykjavik airport was largely uninteresting – I had free wifi so I just browsed something random until we could board the next flight.

I was seated in an emergency exit aisle for this flight, and that was actually amazing for me since I had drastically more leg room. During the first flight, my right ankle cramped up from a lack of movement space. Also, I had an empty seat directly to my right, so I didn’t need to worry about elbowing anyone during the flight. This flight was largely uneventful as well. The most interesting part of it was hearing these older ladies behind me talking about how they had always wanted to go to Paris but hadn’t until now. They sounded ecstatic, which is great! (who wouldn’t be happy for them?) Anyway, my DS died during the flight, so I kind of just listened to conversations and hung out during the three hour flight (not bad, huh?). We got into Paris at 12:30 local time, a half hour ahead of schedule.

After hopping off the plane and waltzing into the airport, I got both of my checked bags and left the international arrival area. That was probably my first mistake. Honestly, this was about the time that this day started to go downhill. You see, the problem was that I hadn’t eaten or slept on either of my two flights. So I had been up for more than a day and hadn’t eaten for about 14 hours. It was about 12:45 by this point. And Deanna’s plane wasn’t supposed to get in until 3:45, so I couldn’t really do anything until she got there. So I had a backpack and two checked bags to babysit for about three hours while I waited for her. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad, but I was super tired so I didn’t really want to do anything with any of the stuff in my backpack. I tried reading The Hero With One Thousand Faces, but I didn’t have quite the patience for it at that point. So I kind of just paced around the edge of the terminal, waiting for some sign that Deanna had arrived. Once it started getting closer to 4:00, I started to wonder whether our meeting plan had been sound – we had decided to meet at the Hippopotamus café, but since neither of our phones were working, I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to find each other. So I decided just to walk over to the only exit from the international arrivals that I knew about, hoping that I would eventually find her. Thankfully, she appeared within 15 minutes or so.

By the way, the next few parts of this are going to sound complaint-ridden, so sorry about that!

After we met up, we scurried off to Terminal 3 to get on the RER B line. We were a bit disappointed to learn that it was €19 for two tickets and that they only took coins, no cash, no cards. I still don’t really understand why it was quite so expensive. (That’s about $25 for those of you out there who were wondering) This part of the trip was pretty awful. I was lugging around two big checked bags and a backpack that was ~22 lbs through crowded Parisian metro stations (and on the metro itself). Of course no one tried to make any room for us when we needed it. Finally, we arrived at Gare-Bercy, the station closest to the train station we needed to be at in order to go down to Clermont-Ferrand.

We started pulling around luggage down an uneven cobblestone street while rain poured down on us, soaking us and the luggage. After getting to the station, we waited in line for about 15 minutes to see whether we could get an exchange for our train tickets (because Deanna’s flight was delayed six hours, so we missed the train we had originally booked). When we got to the front of the line, we found out two things: one, we learned that the tickets were non-refundable and non-exchangeable; two, we learned that we had “incorrectly” purchased the youth rate for tickets when you actually need a special card to do that (though I still don’t get this because our passports prove that we are under 25). So I had wasted €88 ($118) on two useless tickets. Also, I hadn’t taken out enough money to buy both of our tickets, and Deanna hadn’t taken any money out yet, so we couldn’t buy more tickets then and there. To top it all off, the closest ATM was about ten minutes away (how this was possible I also do not understand). So we drag our luggage back out onto the cobblestone streets, the rain eager to dampen our spirits. Long story short, Deanna ended up leaving all the luggage with me for a while as she ran down the street to find the strangely elusive ATM. She took out enough money and we trekked back to the station. Once there, we found that the ticket machines wouldn’t take cash – just credit. So we had to go back in line to get tickets. Also, as a quick note, it was about 6:45 right then, and the next train left at 7:00, so we were hurrying, to say the least. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter let us go to the front of the line, and we paid her the €114  ($153) that two full price tickets cost. Ouch.

Getting onto the train was quite an ordeal as well. Our tickets had an assigned voiture and seat, but we couldn’t see any labels on the voitures, so we had no idea where to go. A random man was nice enough to tell us where to go, so we sped off down the cars to the one we were supposed to go to. Our luggage barely fit down the aisles as we rocketed done the cars, and mainly people stared daggers at us for disturbing them (or for being foreign, or for being loud, I don’t know). We finally crammed our luggage in a side storage compartment and slumped down into incorrect seats (we couldn’t sit in our rightful seats because a man was already in one of them). A ticket man walked through and checked our tickets, but he didn’t seem to care that we were in the wrong spot. After that, we slept for most of the 4 hour train ride.

After the train arrived in CF, we started to worry about how we were going to make it to our first destination. We had no phone and no map, and it was about 10:30 by this point (and still raining). Miraculously, as we stepped off the train, we saw that Remy and Pierrete (the couple whose house we were staying in for a few days) were there waiting for us, holding a sign bearing Deanna’s name. I was so relieved to see them – it seemed like a turning point in the day. They brought our bags to their car, and we talked with them a bit during the short drive back to their house. Their house was actually very interesting – their garage door consisted of two wooden slabs that retracted when they hit the garage door button, and they have a central courtyard that leads to several guest rooms (like ours) and to their main house, which we haven’t seen yet. We brought our luggage into the room, and they showed us some of the general stuff we needed to know for our stay there. Then, Pierrete asked us if we were hungry, and we let out a resounding “YES!”. So she proceeded to bring us a super appetizing tray of fruit, cheese, and meat:

Remember, I still hadn’t eaten yet, and it was about 11:15 by this point. So by my count, it had been 24 hours since my last meal. Suffice it to say that I was starving. After gorging ourselves a bit, I feel into a deep, contended sleep. And thus ends my first day of my current trip to France!

Leave a comment if you’d like, and I hope any readers out there enjoyed reading my novelette of a first post!

Leaving for France on Tuesday!!! Super excited!