Dreams / Memories / Dreams

Memory is a tricky device. Dreams are distorted yet familiar places. Time is gapless. Is it?



The pair of sleeping kids' images in this post belongs to a set of personal pictures I made at the wedding of a really good friend.

June it was. I grabbed my Lomo LC-A and my Holga and loaded them both with a dozen rolls of expired film from random brands.

The scanned files still rest on my laptop. These two images untangled something I wasn't expecting: dreamy memories from another wedding from when I was a child, perhaps some of the first "stories" I can recall.

At that age, and at this distance in time, fragments is all I can remember of a possible story.

These images made tiny facts come alive and perfectly visible in my mind. Yet, the whole story remains fuzzy and disconnected.

It was some distant cousin's wedding. It was already night. A big room, filled with big people, with loud music. I was looking at the floor and getting dizzy without knowing why.

"Grandma! What's happening?" I said. Grandma started to joke and told something about the room moving in circles. I was even more scared. Then I got an explanation.

All those colored light spots moving in circles were meant to amuse, not confuse. Grandma took both my hands and started to dance with. I got confident under grandmother's guidance and the world – that room – became a better place.

And that was my first experience under a disco ball.

I can remember father driving us back home very late. I woke up at my mother's voice. My head rested on my sister's lap. The car was packed so we had the back of the wagon as a bed.

Dreams are distorted yet familiar places, remixed and refurbished, blurry landscapes, stored in time.



Today's score: listening to Tom Waits' "One from the Heart". One of my favourite movies too.