Dream 69

I was in a room with white furniture with PS. The furniture in the room was all square-shaped and placed along the sides of the room, against the walls, whilst we were standing in the centre of the room. PS said something about someone called 'Katriona' (I do not know a Katriona in real-life, although I did have a conversation a couple of days before this dream about someone called Katrina and the night of the dream, read a summary of a TV show which depicted the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina). I wasn't happy. I was then on a bus, sitting on the edge of my seat, close to the aisle, facing in towards the seat across from my own. There was a young black male seated there, he was wearing a white outfit with a multicoloured Jackson Pollock-style design. He was similarly facing in towards the aisle and my seat. I struggled to recollect if I knew him, and the next thing I knew, we were in conversation. We were bent down in our seats and had our heads close together, as if we were conspiring about something. I asked him if he knew someone called Katriona and he said that he did in fact know her. He warned me that she was a 'bitch'. He then said: "I love those vertical lines under your eyes..." The description of 'vertical' confused me - I wondered if he meant 'horizontal' in reference to dark circles/bags under my eyes and started to feel worried. I saw an image of my eyes, with long vertical creases - like long ridges, underneath the lower lid. I thought to myself, 'I can always put on some make-up to hide them' and looked to see if my make-up was with me. I saw that I had the red, black and white leopard print handbag I usually carry around when I go out, with me - with the make-up I usually keep in that bag, and felt relieved. I was then with PS again, walking up a steep stone staircase cut into a tall, grassy hillside - we were on a daytrip of some sort. It was daylight, but not sunny - the sky looked white and overcast. I was standing on PS's right-hand side. I said in a very sarcastic voice: "Is Katriona not coming then?" He replied: "Yes, she's making her own way here" and I said: "Oh really, she's making her own way here!" again, in a very sarcastic, mocking tone. We were then sitting in the bedroom in London - at the desks. There was a male seated on the bed -  friend,  but I could not make out who it was. That side of the room seemed shadowy. PS was talking about the immunisations he would need to go to India. He said: "I've already had the Drogda immunisation". (There is a French footballer, Didier Drogba, b. 1978, who currently plays for Chelsea, which may have been where this word originated from - also see below where there was reference to French nationality). I saw a vision of an arm with a vivid purple colour pulsing through very prominent veins. I wondered if PS meant he had just got a tetanus injection, but decided it must have been the 'Drogda' one instead as he was already covered for tetanus from last year or so, when he cut his hand (this did happen in real-life). I was then in conversation with an adult male whom I could not see. I do not remember anything visual about this final scene of the dream, only the conversation and some text, right at the very end. The male was asking me how to write emails in a fancy style - he wanted to impress people with his intelligence. I recommended that he read the work of 'Samuel Salvatore' - a French philosopher (made-up in the dream, of course - this is an Italian-sounding name and upon checking, I found several internet listings of people with the same name). I told him to read the style of prose in the book, and the way Salvatore wrote to fellow philosophers, and try to copy it in every conversation he had for the rest of his life. I then saw a white page with a transcription of this conversation on it (in typeface) and realised that I was actually an expert in French 'Nihilist philosophy' (I am unfamiliar with such a discipline if in fact it does exist!) I woke up.