The Red Fox through the Car Window

I remember dreaming at the beginning of the night about a room and a bed next to an open window. It is my responsibility to keep the place safe and lock the window. We are a team that involves other people in a collective project, and I am able to close the window with everyone’s help.

The feeling of the room is similar to a campground. [person A] is focused on one task, a talk or perhaps a presentation. It is important to let her do her work. [person B] is there, too.

As I exit through a semi-closed pathway, I see [person C] and [person D] on skis going towards a so called Lagunillas Ski Center. The prospect of skiing with them is exciting, and I let myself be convinced. The closer we get to the ski-lift, the farther away we get from that room where I should be working. I am overcome with anxiety and ask [person C] to show me the way

back so I don’t get lost.

Even so, we get farther away until we reach the ski-lift made of individual wooden seats. The engine looks old and of lesser quality. Honestly, I prefer not to continue on.

In the next dream, I am going toward [person C]’s house, a building with several stories and an inner courtyard. The option of carrying out a collective project there is no longer possible. [person C] decided to rent the apartments to solve her economic problems. She receives 80,000 pesos a month in rent. There is nothing to be done; [person C] is the owner of the building.

Next is a small fragment of a dream that escapes me.

[person C] leaves, and I am left close to the road. I watch as a red fox arrives. Now, sitting in a car, I observe how she astutely approaches my window and opens it with her snout.

I watch, amazed, how she squeezes through

the window into the car and turns into a woman. The transformation teleports us to the inside of [person C]’s apartment again, but she isn’t there. Now, it is [person E] who manages the apartments. I spy on him while he acts naturally; he doesn’t see me. I suspect he shares a secret with the fox that snuck into the car. [person E] acts without inhibitions, almost a permissive attitude. I want to see if he is disloyal to my friend.

Surprisingly [person C] appears dazed to take her [person F] their baby. Another guy arrives to say that [person E] can't come out of the room. The problem is not with him but I suspect that something hides in the room, a woman.

She asks me not to say anything to [person C] but it is too late, she is here determined to do justice.

I recall being in bed with a dachshund on the top of my body, crossed at chest height. I feel suffocated.

The last scene I remember is unusual and

operates on a metaphorical level. Her room gets flooded up to the roof, the level of the water up to the point of drowning, and there is no room left for anything.

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Another dream takes place in a large, cold space, like a science-fiction movie. The concept is a scary individualist atmosphere.

In a complex mechanical and novel environment, I see my mother appear, strangely, she looks different. As I approach her, she does not connect with me. She turns around and escapes from me, in search of personal benefit but I decide to follow her. Despite my insistence to save her she slips away up the stairs.

After a while she returns back down here but this time she takes on the shape of [person G]. I don’t understand how she can be so shameless.

The specific details of this fragment, I do not remember them properly only is left

to me the feeling of a daughter whose mother does not respond. In the face of a cold, artificial and an overly designed world built on individualistic elements that are disconnected from responsive human relations, she gets lost in the distance.

The last thing I recall is abandoning that infertile world to go in another direction.

Night 098