It was snowing when i woke up today. i’d just been dreaming of a military-style yomp in a forest, pursued by a hunter-killer squad; i had slept under a tree and woke up in the rain to find mischievous elves had stolen my socks and shoes. Before going to sleep (in real life), i’d been wondering if it would be possible to live in the nearby cemetery, to save on rent. It’s not as silly as it sounds – it’s large, more like a wooded park dotted with graves, and deserted after dark. The only problem would be finding somewhere to stash my suitcases; i wondered if i could covertly break into one of the family crypts, but breaking & entering is not among my skills. i think it would be possible to survive as a teacher if i didn’t have to pay rent – my income (about 15 Euros a week) would just about cover food, just about; and i find the cemetery hospitable and comforting, especially at night. It would be an excellent place to live, or at least to sleep.

i also dreamt two names, “Isaac Luria” and “Trocadero“. i thought they’d probably both be fairly commonplace names that i’d heard on the radio, but it seems both are somewhat obscure. Perhaps i heard them on the radio – i often listen or half-listen to it, in the hope of passively absorbing Bosche. i am disconcerted by Wikipedia’s account of Luria’s life:

Though he initially may have pursued a career in business, he soon turned to asceticism and mysticism. About the age of twenty-two years old, he became engrossed in the study of the Zohar, a major work of the Kabbalah that had recently been printed for the first time, and adopted the life of a recluse. He retreated to the banks of the Nile, and for seven years secluded himself in an isolated cottage, giving himself up entirely to meditation. He visited his family only on the Shabbat, speaking very seldom, and always in Hebrew.

The rest of the entry is similarly disconcerting, to me. Apparently, Luria taught that:

if a purified soul has neglected some religious duties on earth, it must return to the earthly life, and, attaching itself to the soul of a living man, unite with it in order to make good such neglect.


As far as i’m aware, i didn’t dream about Luria – i just woke up with his name, and “Trocadero” going through my mind; as well as a sense of wariness about shoe & sock-stealing mischievous elves. Damn those elves. i’ll keep an eye out for them, if i do end up sleeping under a shrubbery in the cemetery.