DER TRAUM

I feel I need to record this. 

The experience of walking to the späti (convenience store) in Berlin at night on Rigaer Straße. There are dozens of riot police in full gear on the street between me and the späti. It's an almost everyday occurrence. It's is so weird, and yet over the years has become so normal. Nothing is really going on, but here they are. Full riot gear. Some of them with their visors up, smoking cigarettes. 

I walk past the riot police one way, going to the späti, and then back again on my way home. They all watch me, in full stormtrooper gear. It is absurd. My life is absurd. This is old east Berlin and the cold war is over, and yet on this street, there is still a war being fought. 

The reason the police are here is because of the occupied building opposite my home. Rigaer Str. 94. Left extremists, Antifa, punk rockers. Beside the main door is a plaque to commemorate the life of Ernst Pahnke, who once lived there and was killed by Nasis for being anti-fascist. This is the heart and soul of the old wild Berlin. Sometimes they play loud music, sometimes they play outdoor Bingo and invite the neighbourhood to take part. It's great! I enjoy it. I feel in solidarity with them. 

But apparently, the city feels that they need police oversight. 

This is the last bastion of the old ways, the wild, wild Ost (east). And here we are. The police watch me as I come and go, they take note.

Gentrification will win one day, but not without a fight. I love my neighbourhood, but I know it won't last. Things change. Gentrification will win. I hate it. I wish things could remain the same, but ultimately I know they won't.

I sometimes wonder if I will miss the riot police when it's nothing but baby strollers, boutiques and cafes. Time will tell.

I don't think I can look at the news or social media any more for the next couple days, it's becoming unbearable. I feel so powerless to make any kind of difference or help in any meaningful kind of way. 

It's hard to see any light in such a dark time.

A friend of mine leads a small group in a healing meditation every other Tuesday via Zoom. It's been one of the highlights of the pandemic for me, meeting up online with friends to chat about coping strategies and keep each other afloat. I'm especially looking forward to this evening's session.

The pandemic is starting to feel less real, like less of a threat. People are out and about again, eating in restaurants, going to bars. But yesterday I learned of two people I know quite well – a neighbour in my own building, and a friend's boyfriend – who caught the virus and are *still* dealing with the lingering health damage now, several weeks after having recovered. "It attacks you where you are weakest," my neighbour told me. For him, it was his lungs, and he still gets winded after even minimal physical activity. It was a stark reminder to not let my guard down.

South Korea is already heading into another shut down, and I imagine other countries will have to follow suit before long. Time will tell.

I had a job interview last week over Zoom and the guy interviewing me was in an office environment with lots of irritatingly loud background noise due to people talking. I asked him where he was, and he cheerfully informed me that he and all the other colleagues were working together in the office. It was then that I decided the job would not be a good fit. Well, that and a whole bunch of other little things, but the laissez faire attitude regarding social distancing was the last straw.

In other news, I'm 100% registered with the unemployment office and all set to receive benefits. Thank God.

I made progress on the painting in the last days.

I'm not sure why I keep painting snakes. My next painting will feature a star fish, but the one I have planned after that is another snake. 

Another weekend is upon us. The New Normal has little texture or substance to hold onto, so the weeks fly by at lightening speed. It is easier to remember what I did four years ago than what I did four days ago. 

Revisiting things from my past has become a distinct hallmark of my lockdown time. I stopped posting on LJ several years ago, but here I am again, posting like I never left. And I have downloaded, installed and played World of Warcraft at length over the past week. Having spent so much time playing WoW years ago, it feels like visiting a previous home. I'll have to give it up soon though, it's only free up to level 20 and then requires a subscription. 

I find myself deeply nostalgic for the past, for old friends, for my university days, for my Chicago days. It must be a symptom of life being halted and put on hold, giving me the feeling that my best days are behind me. 

Some new things I've been up to (aside from painting): 

Drinking a litre of fresh, raw cabbage juice every day. After reading that doing so can help heal ulcers and acid reflux, I've decided to give it a try. It's by no means delicious, but after four days I do notice an improvement, so I'm going to keep at it.

Fasting on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Because otherwise I would be piling on the pounds; it's too easy to eat out of boredom given the circumstances. 

Progressing with the Quareia material, meditating every day, doing visionary exercises, and I even did the first ritual last night. 

This evening I will ride my bicycle to Schöneberg to visit Kiddy for the weekend. Hopefully we can get some sun tomorrow, and take a long bike ride. 

My time in lock-down has actually been pretty nice, aside from all the hand washing, avoidance of other humans, and general fear of getting this virus that you can have for weeks without knowing it. 

During the week I get to work from home. This means I save about 100 minutes each day that would otherwise be spent commuting. Working from home also means I can prepare really delicious, inexpensive, healthy lunches for myself. And I can keep my home cleaner – doing loads of laundry, setting the vacuum robot free to clean the floor. I never want to go back to working in an office when this is all over, I'm going to look specifically for remote work.

When work is done, I end it by taking a long walk to the park and watch the sun set. This is a beautiful time of day when the light is gorgeous and most people are at home eating dinner.

Weekends are the best. On Friday I ride my bicycle to where K lives in Schöneberg. We relate how our weeks went and he makes dinner. We laugh a lot, drink Champagne, and watch weird arthouse movies late into the night.

On Saturday, we sleep late, have coffee in bed, and take long hot baths. 

In the afternoon, we ride our bicycles to K's art studio, which is in an historical building, formerly a malt factory, that somehow avoided being bombed during the second world war. The adjacent grounds have been cultivated into a kind of private park where there is an eco-pond for wild life, and a swimming hole complete with sandy beach where people can swim in the warmer months. 

Sometimes we see a few other people when we go, but sometimes we are the only ones in the entire complex, which is both eerie and fantastic.

We play Aerobie on the grass and then sit at the big wooden picnic table beside the swimming hole on the beach.  

K has a garden plot there and makes sure all his plants have water while I lay in the sun and examine the grass and insects that live within it. 

And of course we do some work in the studio; K with his paintings and me with my sketchbook. His studio has a high enough ceiling and is large enough that we can play badminton – endeavouring to hit it back and forth 100 times.

In the evening we ride back to K's place, make dinner and either watch television or another movie. 

On Sunday evening when it's time to return home it's always a sad moment, although it's good to get back to my home and my bird, too.

Dream:

Tara, Rachael and I were seated at a small, round table. 

Suddenly, it was clear that no one could be trusted, and Rachael pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. I begged with her not to shoot me and emphasised my loyalty to her. 

This made Tara look uncertain and she raised her gun as well – if I was loyal to Rachael, could I be trusted to also be loyal to her? 

Some how the situation de-escalated and I was able to assure Tara that I was not a threat, although I could tell she was not 100% convinced of that. 

We walked to her apartment in downtown (not sure what city), and she led me inside. It was the most amazingly luxurious apartment I had ever seen. It was situated beside a river and the water ran directly beside the window. She also had a lovely view of the other downtown buildings, lit up beautifully (it was night). 

I went downstairs and saw that she also had a spa-resort style swimming pool that ran like a river through the place. So upstairs she had a view of natural running water, and downstairs she had a clean, headed pool to exercise in. 

I was astounded and asked her how much rent she was paying for such a place. "I pay € 8,880 a month," she told me. "It's a bit of a stretch for me, but I really liked it when I saw it and decided to splurge. Unfortunately, I work so much I don't get to take advantage of the pool very often."

A colleague's mother was admitted to a French hospital this morning. She was diagnosed with Covid-19 and having difficulty breathing. 

I met her once, when she dropped by our office last fall. 

This is the first person within my sphere of acquaintances who has been confirmed with the virus.

I hope she improves.

I know I had dreams last night, but they were lost upon waking. 

I'm trying to document as many dreams as possible, to keep a clear view on my subconscious as events unfold.

When long-held structures break down and patterns are disrupted, the ensuing chaos provides a vehicle for synchronicities, meaningful coincidences and flat out paranormal events to arise. Dreams become intense. Keep an eye on it. 

Case in point: On the morning of July 31, 2016, a blazing hot day, my radiator heat suddenly went on full blast and there was no way to turn it off. I had two friends from America visiting, and I was dismayed that they were subjected to such discomfort. 

I informed my building management and they in turn contacted the janitor. 

My friends and I went about our day. Around 1pm I received a phone call from my workplace and was informed via telephone that I had been laid off. A shock, to be sure. My world's structure was blown apart in that single phone call.

Not long after, my building's janitor called to tell me that the heat could not have come on in my apartment; it was impossible. The boiler had been turned off in the spring, and he had just checked it again – it had been off for months. 

So how does one explain the fact that my radiator had been hissing and hot like an angry dragon earlier that day?

Chaos. Keep an eye on it.

There are benefits to the whole social distancing thing. 

Travel by bicycle to Kiddy's home in the west of Berlin was so much more pleasant than normal with fewer cars on the street. And when we visited his new studio and had the entire complex to ourselves it was magical, a strange, beautiful paradise. There is a small pond for wildlife there, and a separate pond where people can swim – complete with a small sandy beach – and he has a small garden patch where he has been planting things. 

My brother and I video-chatted for a couple hours last night. He gave me a little tour of his new Los Angeles flat and I was struck by how perfect the place looked, as if it came straight out of a magazine. Chic furniture, no clutter of any kind, everything new, shiny and clean. 

"I couldn't use my Persian rugs in here because the colour wouldn't work with the overall concept." His Persian rugs are amazing, he rolled them out so I could see. 

I was enthralled and at the same time it highlighted the cobbled-together nature of my own home, a mixture of flea market, second hand and Ikea: Chandeliers that I hung myself and have wires hanging out, towels hanging to dry on the doors and radiator because I have no clothes dryer, and food stacked on top of my small refrigerator because I have no cabinets. 

I make do.

German apartments do not come with closets or built-in kitchens, and I never had the extra funds to invest in such extravagances because having these things installed would be a serious investment.

A part of me likes my home just as it is. But another part of me is embarrassed that my home looks so un-modern, and so DIY. Not magazine ready, unless it was an art publication.

This is my pandemic home. Filled with paint brushes and spools of ribbon and old flower pots. And a pigeon palace. 

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Also, oh my God the earth quake in Zagreb. What a horrible time to have such a tragedy occur. Thinking of everyone in Croatia, hoping for the best.

Went to the grocery store for some odds and ends. Eggs, mayonnaise, oranges, cheese and prosecco. 

I wore the thick, reusable cloth mask I got in Vietnam. I have to admit I felt like a freak the whole time, but there were some Asian shoppers also wearing masks, so that helped. And anyway, there is evidence that mask wearing can actually help. 

Designer face masks are going to be the next big fashion thing here in the West. It's already common in Asia, but I bet it will become a thing here, too. And not the crappy disposable surgical kind, but chic designer cloth ones. 

Trying to stay off social media, but finding it difficult. Everyone is frightened, everyone is a know-it-all, but no one really knows anything.

I should jump rope. Sitting on the sofa for long stretches like this can't be good for me.

I finally got through to the unemployment agency (Arbeitsagentur) on the telephone and completed my "online" registration. Thank God my German is evolved enough such that this was not a huge problem for me (unlike 4 years ago; that was hell).