I never do diaries. It is too personal to begin with this in public, isn't it? But as an artist in residence generally there shouldn' t be this delicacy ... maybe by escaping through much too authentic messages to everybody. This will be a dream diary of my time in Kilpisjärvi, topped with some hints or false guides for these dream's interpretations. As my video project "Environmental Influence on Kilpisjärvi Biological Station’s human population" puts up questions itself of very delicate nature, I should consider myself through 'dreaming' as subject of my artistic question as well. How will the Arctic environment, the subtle relations to persons I meet and am with influence my work or even my personality? This 'impossible' question thus being answered with a dream diary. Dream of the Night to Friday 9th of July 2010, 12 hours of sleep, interrupted I am dreaming of not going to work, being uneasy about it. Several occurrences hinder my arrival at the right time and place where I should teach students in future media theology. Not only the plane is not going where it should - I can jump off within the last possible seconds, with a parachute - , but when trying to catch a night-train, i miss it, because my legs are not carrying forward, but backwards into my future. I feel obsessed to steel at an antiques seller a leg, that is used to display fine stockings and shoes. Now I have a third leg with one high-healed sandal, red with white polka dots. Shit I can never go to see the nice woman from the shop. How stupid of me... What do I want with an old, used and heavy third leg? Although sexy in shape and proportions? I wait at the bus station now with this artificial leg, trying to use it as a prosthesis or a walking cane. This dispells feelings of guilt not being able to go to work and hinders to telephone to the new church's secretary to notify the student's that I will not be able to make it for today but will arive in the future. But anyhow, probably she knows already, even through my thinking of NOT telephoning her. Telepathy is possible I write in the dust, with my left feet, the big toe, overlapping the border of the stolen sandal. I don't beleive it. Or do I? Suddenly I see my father. (He died recently) from behind sitting at a clear blue river and caressing his bold head with his left arm and hand, as if he was putting the hair, he formerly had, in order. (I have never seen him in full hair, when I was born he already was bold.) I feel very moved seeing him, being well, trying not to disturb him, like watching a wild animal. Suddenly he disappears and where he sat, I can have a look at what he saw, the beautiful flowing waters with reflections of light in shades of turquois and light blue. Inerpretation of this dream: Not necessary. Self evident.