A descent into the maelstrom
20/02/08 12:14
I wanna
start this whole thing off by telling you about a
dream I had last summer. Kristian and I had finally
agreed upon touring the US together, and I had gone
to visit him in Århus, some three hours by train from
Copenhagen. We wanted to seal the pact by going on a
binge at the local Spot Music Festival.
We arrived back at his place in the wee hours of the morning, ears ringing, eyes wobbling. Kristian put on a free-form, full contact Fight Club-like show on the computer. I drifted off to sleep to the sound of grown-up men beating the living shit out of each other. Blow by blow they hammered me down into the foam of the mattress. My parades were all down, and I soon lost consciousness.
A couple of hours later I woke up drenched in sweat. The screen had blacked out, but it felt as if the fighting continued inside my head. Outside, birds were chirping in the dawn of a new day. As I sat up, blood rushed from my temples. The effect was dizzying. I plunged into the maelstrom at the centre of the universe. I dimly remembered how the protagonist handled a similar situation in a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. I grabbed hold of a piece of driftwood, and let it spiral me back up to the surface. Only, the driftwood wasn't really driftwood at all. It was the remnants of the dream that had woken me up.
I was living in a mansion somewhat reminiscent of my parents' house in the suburbs of Copenhagen. I had invited all of my friends over for a farewell party before going away on a long journey. We were sitting at a ridiculously long table in a ridiculously huge hall. The room was full of music and laughter, food and drink. I believe we were having a good time, but something kept nagging me, something I had to do before I left. And then it dawned on me. I had promised to clean up the place. And there was no two ways about it.
My flight was due in a few hours, and everything was a mess. Tension mounted as I felt my farewell party turning into yet another inescapable drunken debauchery. I tried hard to suppress my anxiety, and just lose myself in the merriment and laughter. But the laughter had turned ominous, and people began reminding me of past favors owed. When would I return them the money I borrowed last month? Why hadn't I stopped by to see their first-born? What was I thinking leaving them like this?
In a fit of rage I got up and threw everybody out of the house. I can still see the disgusted looks on their faces, I can still hear the abuse they shouted at me. It seemed to take forever for them to get their coats, and leave the house. Finally I slammed the door shut behind the last one of them. I pulled open a cupboard, and took out a vacuumer. This was it. I still had about an hour to go. If I forgot about minor details like doing the dishes and sweeping up the floor, I might still make it.
I turned on the vacuumer, and started working my way from the hallway into the orgy room. The noise was deafening. As I rounded the corner, I was met by a horrid sight. My friends were all back at the table, glasses held high, cheering and toasting. I let out a scream, and descended unresistingly into the maelstrom. I guess that's when I woke up. Outside, birds were chirping in the dawn of a new day, and I felt more certain than ever that I was on the right track. Out of Denmark, into the US.
We arrived back at his place in the wee hours of the morning, ears ringing, eyes wobbling. Kristian put on a free-form, full contact Fight Club-like show on the computer. I drifted off to sleep to the sound of grown-up men beating the living shit out of each other. Blow by blow they hammered me down into the foam of the mattress. My parades were all down, and I soon lost consciousness.
A couple of hours later I woke up drenched in sweat. The screen had blacked out, but it felt as if the fighting continued inside my head. Outside, birds were chirping in the dawn of a new day. As I sat up, blood rushed from my temples. The effect was dizzying. I plunged into the maelstrom at the centre of the universe. I dimly remembered how the protagonist handled a similar situation in a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. I grabbed hold of a piece of driftwood, and let it spiral me back up to the surface. Only, the driftwood wasn't really driftwood at all. It was the remnants of the dream that had woken me up.
I was living in a mansion somewhat reminiscent of my parents' house in the suburbs of Copenhagen. I had invited all of my friends over for a farewell party before going away on a long journey. We were sitting at a ridiculously long table in a ridiculously huge hall. The room was full of music and laughter, food and drink. I believe we were having a good time, but something kept nagging me, something I had to do before I left. And then it dawned on me. I had promised to clean up the place. And there was no two ways about it.
My flight was due in a few hours, and everything was a mess. Tension mounted as I felt my farewell party turning into yet another inescapable drunken debauchery. I tried hard to suppress my anxiety, and just lose myself in the merriment and laughter. But the laughter had turned ominous, and people began reminding me of past favors owed. When would I return them the money I borrowed last month? Why hadn't I stopped by to see their first-born? What was I thinking leaving them like this?
In a fit of rage I got up and threw everybody out of the house. I can still see the disgusted looks on their faces, I can still hear the abuse they shouted at me. It seemed to take forever for them to get their coats, and leave the house. Finally I slammed the door shut behind the last one of them. I pulled open a cupboard, and took out a vacuumer. This was it. I still had about an hour to go. If I forgot about minor details like doing the dishes and sweeping up the floor, I might still make it.
I turned on the vacuumer, and started working my way from the hallway into the orgy room. The noise was deafening. As I rounded the corner, I was met by a horrid sight. My friends were all back at the table, glasses held high, cheering and toasting. I let out a scream, and descended unresistingly into the maelstrom. I guess that's when I woke up. Outside, birds were chirping in the dawn of a new day, and I felt more certain than ever that I was on the right track. Out of Denmark, into the US.
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