where are you

Woke up in the dream, but felt like reality. It was so bright in the room. It was more like I suddenly appeared in a shop window. But no, only it was ground floor, and the big windows looked straight on the street. Think someone even looked in while passing by. And I couldn't get it what I was doing there. All alone. It didn't make sense.
So I was upstairs, and feeling safer, in a more private place with curtains. But still looking for someone. You. I understood that when I opened the window, and saw you outside. On a narrow ledge. It was disturbing. Though I don't remember being afraid that you might wanted to jump. More like you were coming inside. Then saw you leaned down to pick up something.
From the balcony. For that's what it was by then. I turned to see who was talking behind me. Some friendly neighbors passing time on their own balcony in the fine weather. We said hello. I think they had a little dog, or two.
When we were inside I had to look at you closely. I was touching your face as if I was blind, and had to feel that it was you. To make sure. You looked so much like yourself, and yet somehow different. The dream was so real, and I couldn't comprehend how it was possible. You being yourself, and yet as if only resembling a picture of you. You didn't understand, and kind of smiled.
Out again, but this time downstairs, in a garden. I think I still sensed you around. Maybe I wanted to show you something. I already moved away from the terrace, and was out between the trees and plants. I believe I heard a dog from somewhere. Suddenly, when I turned, it was dark with the vague outside lights on. And it was snowing. Actually all was covered in snow. As a contrast to the surrounding darkness. I woke up then in reality. And you were gone.

The Real Thing

Woke up to the certain feeling that I'd already had exactly these dreams, and very likely in this order. The schoolyard with the flowers - first hovering above and slowly descending, then into the building. The house with the many rooms for different emotions. Then outside, in the country, at night. The only difference, as much as I can tell, was that now the details were clearer.
Basically it was about life and death; sexuality and murder; lust and fear. Even though I was surprised about some very shocking scenes I couldn't recall from before. A child sleeping peacefully on a couch, or so it seemed. Face covered with a hat or a veil. Then as we leave the room, the sudden and terrible realization that you faced death. An old lost woman lured into the woods by a creature dressed much like her wearing a funny mask that resembles a grinning skull from a Mexican carnival.
No films, no books, no songs can ever be as strong and expressive as dreams.

born again

Funny how one can look forward to changes like moving to another country, and trying to start another life there. You don't even know a thing, and yet you can nurture so many half-thoughts, hopes and wishes. Wonder about the new streets you'll walk, the people you'll meet, the language, the daily life and all the little details. Awaiting to see the sun when you wake up and suddenly realize that you're thousand of miles away from where you used to live for long long years.
Somehow it's like being pregnant and planning everything for your baby, for Little You, who is yet a totally different person with an own view on life. And you'll become only more and more different to each other as the years go by. Yet in a miraculous way you'll always stay part of each other. You never stop seeing your hopes and dreams in that person or in that place.

my name - my life

My Mom named me Attila and I inherited János from my Dad's father. As in a "good" patriarchal family or society rather, János became my first name, while Attila the middle one. So I wouldn't really listen to Attila at all. Still I am using it now and then, for instance on official documents. I also like to use it because it makes me feel like this way I respect my Mom who always cared about me. While my Dad never gave a damn about me. Though his father died in a Nazi hard labor camp, so János reminds me not only about him but everything there is to remember. When I was young I often thought about using Attila instead if I'd move somewehere else to make it more like a completely new life. But I have grown very much to my first name during all these years. More than that I got to like it, just like my personality and all that comes with it.