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Today is January 3rd, 2004, which means that my godfather was interred two years ago, Tolkien was born 113 years ago, and my exams will be in exactly one week.
Since I also have to practice translating from German to English, for this week I will write my German entries first, and then translate them into English. Because the other way round is what I usually do but don't have to do at the exams.
(Clever, aren't I? This way, writing in my LJ actually is a part of preparing for the exams.)
So, last English-first entry of the week.
Yesterday, my mother found a list of different tales of years around the world in some calendar, which she had to share with my brother and me in her fascination.
(My brother contributed 'Schröder 7' and I suggested '60 of the 7th age', but that's beside the point.)
For example, according to the Jewish calendar, it is 5766 since the creation of the world as calculated by following the Bible. (That's what you get when you do that. Screwed-up mathematics.)
That is not overly impressive, except for the part where the world, according to the selfsame book, has a life-span expectancy of 6000 years. So I remarked, in joke, that that would leave us only a bit over 200 years. To which my mother remarked, "Well, that's enough for us and our grandchildren, so what?"
Which made my brother and me grin, because, you know, what sort of attitude is that?
I'm just bringing this up because apparently the Disturbing Dream Department took that as an invitation to have me dream about the end of the world.
I don't know where exactly I was; it was a large, hilly park surrounded by houses, but I couldn't name the city. Considering Jörg and me were there with Fuchs, Elia, Elfy, Kan, Kerstin and Kim (yeah, you bunch starred in my dream! hey!), I suppose it might have been Cologne.
Aaanyway, so we were sitting in that park doing nothing in particular when it went dark and we heard thunder. Since you don't sit on an open meadow during a thunderstorm, we went to look for coverage, first under a tree, but that wasn't a good idea either, than we ran up some hill for whatever reason. It was then that we saw that the lightning was not fleeting as it usually is, but forming gleaming lines across the scy, like the outline of a door.
That already made us slightly nervous, but when we ran further on, the shapes of the lines shifted to show something that looked like a motorway interchange seen from above. That made me think of odegra (yes, so Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett have infested my subconscious. So what?), and now I was really nervous and suggested we went to the flat.
We did, but it wasn't the flat the WG are living in currently, nor any other flat I can remember having been in recently. But anyway, we went to the flat.
Outside, the thunderstorm raged on for a while, while Elia cooked something and we all pretended things were perfectly normal. Then it went quiet outside.
I went to the window facing the park where we had been, and saw that ominous white fog was creeping over the hills at the opposite side of the park, creeping through the houses, coming out of some half-opened windows. I shouted that we had to close all windows and doors, so we ran about to do that. Several people asked why, and I asked them to look out of Elfy's window if they wanted to know. It was particularly complicated to shut the door, because that was a rather elaborate system of doors and angles. Eventually, everything was shut, though, and we felt a bit safer until we saw the white fog drift out of a garbage chute the flat inexplicably had. (Another strange thing: Judging from the window view, the flat should have been in one of the higher stories of a high building, but judging by the door, it was on ground level.) However, the fog coming out of the chute wasn't much and dissolved swiftly, so we relaxed a bit.
Then, the building began to tilt. Maybe the way everything would tilt if we felt the earth's movement. At any rate, it tilted. Outside, we could see the fog swirling away, while the lightning was still drawing images between the dark clouds. Then the clouds and the lightning were ripped away and only the cold stars stared down at us.
And then the dream stopped.
Yeah. Nice, that.
- - -
( Was sagt Freud zu Träumen über das Ende der Welt? )
- - -
Since I also have to practice translating from German to English, for this week I will write my German entries first, and then translate them into English. Because the other way round is what I usually do but don't have to do at the exams.
(Clever, aren't I? This way, writing in my LJ actually is a part of preparing for the exams.)
So, last English-first entry of the week.
Yesterday, my mother found a list of different tales of years around the world in some calendar, which she had to share with my brother and me in her fascination.
(My brother contributed 'Schröder 7' and I suggested '60 of the 7th age', but that's beside the point.)
For example, according to the Jewish calendar, it is 5766 since the creation of the world as calculated by following the Bible. (That's what you get when you do that. Screwed-up mathematics.)
That is not overly impressive, except for the part where the world, according to the selfsame book, has a life-span expectancy of 6000 years. So I remarked, in joke, that that would leave us only a bit over 200 years. To which my mother remarked, "Well, that's enough for us and our grandchildren, so what?"
Which made my brother and me grin, because, you know, what sort of attitude is that?
I'm just bringing this up because apparently the Disturbing Dream Department took that as an invitation to have me dream about the end of the world.
I don't know where exactly I was; it was a large, hilly park surrounded by houses, but I couldn't name the city. Considering Jörg and me were there with Fuchs, Elia, Elfy, Kan, Kerstin and Kim (yeah, you bunch starred in my dream! hey!), I suppose it might have been Cologne.
Aaanyway, so we were sitting in that park doing nothing in particular when it went dark and we heard thunder. Since you don't sit on an open meadow during a thunderstorm, we went to look for coverage, first under a tree, but that wasn't a good idea either, than we ran up some hill for whatever reason. It was then that we saw that the lightning was not fleeting as it usually is, but forming gleaming lines across the scy, like the outline of a door.
That already made us slightly nervous, but when we ran further on, the shapes of the lines shifted to show something that looked like a motorway interchange seen from above. That made me think of odegra (yes, so Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett have infested my subconscious. So what?), and now I was really nervous and suggested we went to the flat.
We did, but it wasn't the flat the WG are living in currently, nor any other flat I can remember having been in recently. But anyway, we went to the flat.
Outside, the thunderstorm raged on for a while, while Elia cooked something and we all pretended things were perfectly normal. Then it went quiet outside.
I went to the window facing the park where we had been, and saw that ominous white fog was creeping over the hills at the opposite side of the park, creeping through the houses, coming out of some half-opened windows. I shouted that we had to close all windows and doors, so we ran about to do that. Several people asked why, and I asked them to look out of Elfy's window if they wanted to know. It was particularly complicated to shut the door, because that was a rather elaborate system of doors and angles. Eventually, everything was shut, though, and we felt a bit safer until we saw the white fog drift out of a garbage chute the flat inexplicably had. (Another strange thing: Judging from the window view, the flat should have been in one of the higher stories of a high building, but judging by the door, it was on ground level.) However, the fog coming out of the chute wasn't much and dissolved swiftly, so we relaxed a bit.
Then, the building began to tilt. Maybe the way everything would tilt if we felt the earth's movement. At any rate, it tilted. Outside, we could see the fog swirling away, while the lightning was still drawing images between the dark clouds. Then the clouds and the lightning were ripped away and only the cold stars stared down at us.
And then the dream stopped.
Yeah. Nice, that.
- - -
( Was sagt Freud zu Träumen über das Ende der Welt? )
- - -
