Dreams (Drømmer)

My life is in a cloud.

Well, not all of it.

My body isn't.

But everything else. What I see, think and feel.

That's in a cloud. And it feels so strange,

that body and soul are separated. And it also feels fragile.

As if my life is drifting apart.

Do you think that's strange?

It's just that I take everything literally.

I picture it. A real cloud. A cumulus cloud.

It's fairly solid, so it's easy to imagine that it contains stuff.

But sometimes I picture cirrus clouds.

Or worse, just a translucent veil of clouds.

And then I worry that there's nothing there to keep things in place.

And that everything I am, will fall down into the street and get washed away by the rain.

SEX / DREAMS / LOVE

DREAMS / LOVE

DREAMS

- You're applying to the Academy, right? - For dance?

- Nah. - Why not? You're so talented.

- You've danced classical ballet too, right? - Yes, but that just felt humiliating.

I read somewhere that classical ballet is based on outdated gender attitudes.

That it should be abolished.

- Not all dance is like classical ballet. - Yes, to some degree.

I want to study sociology.

- You read a lot, huh? - A lot.

Don't you read?

A little. But mostly when people give me books.

I love that.

I'm flattered that people think of me as someone who reads books.

But not everything in books is true.

Sure, but that's not why I read. To find out what's true.

I read to have a place to go.

And to arrive at myself.

All of this started with a book.

It all started with a book which eventually led to me writing a book.

It wasn't even a famous book, just one I found in my grandmother's cabin

and read when we were there, last Easter.

I was there with Jenny, a friend.

Her family doesn't have a cabin.

And she went on about how lucky we were to have a cabin.

It would be fun to have a cabin where we could play cards and...

And my mum, who refuses to see how privileged we are,

made matters worse by saying you don't have to be rich to own a cabin.

She means to say that if your family is rich, you don't need money...

- Mum! Stop it. - You can live off the inheritance.

Found your bra?

I'd sprained my ankle and had to rest.

And when Mum, Nan and Jenny went for a walk, I picked a book from the shelf.

By pure coincidence, really.

It's called "L'esprit de famille",

and it's similar to Little Women, which you might know.

This one is also about four sisters.

They're doctor's daughters living on the outskirts of Paris.

The main character, Pauline, is sixteen.

The book starts with her starting at a new school in Paris.

There, she meets a girl named Bea, whose uncle is an artist.

One day they visit his studio.

He's unlike anyone she's ever met.

He looks her in the eye and talks to her like she's an adult.

Even though he's much older and has a ten-year-old daughter,

she falls in love with him.

She doesn't tell anyone, just keeps visiting him with Bea.

Until one day when Bea is ill.

Then she plucks up courage and visits him alone.

And when he opens the door and sees that she's alone,

she realises he feels the same way, that he's been waiting for her to come.

And then they have sex.

And, well...

When I read it, it was like I recognized something within myself.

A kind of yearning.

One I'd felt before, ever since childhood, but never understood.

And tried to keep at a distance.

But now I could feel it in my entire body, on my skin.

A powerful, tingling sensation of wanting to be completely naked next to someone.

And there was one thing in the book that I truly loved.

Pauline had a long, knitted scarf.

And whenever she left his house, he would wrap the scarf three times around her neck.

Always three times.

And he did it with such... tenderness that I welled up reading it.

Mostly because it was so beautiful.

But also because I so yearned for one day having that happen to me.

A few months passed, and although I did think about it that spring and summer,

it was no longer quite so intense.

And when I first felt the yearning return, it was halfway through autumn term.

The intensity of it caught me completely off guard.

Maybe that's the way it goes - things happen when you least expect it.

Hi, my name is Johanna. I'll be your French and Norwegian teacher this year.

A little bit about me:

My name is Johanna... like I just said.

I studied textile art at the Academy of the Arts, and I also work as a teacher.

I spent a year in the USA, in the Midwest,

where I worked at an organic peanut farm for six months.

That was quite boring, so I moved to New York and got a job at a café.

I also studied fashion in Paris for a year.

Alright? Just ask if you have any questions.

Please tell me your name and one fun fact about yourself.

- What's your name? - Anine. I like to dye my hair.

- Nice colour. And you? - My name is...

My name is Josef, and I love working out.

My name is Helene, and I don't like chocolate.

- And you? What's your name? - My name is Johanne, and I like... salmon.

I'll remember that. It's just like mine, with an E at the end.

What's your name?

My name is Johannes, and I'm illegal in 69 countries.

At first, I couldn't put my finger on it.

It was so overwhelming. Completely weird.

As if I could feel her presence throughout my body.

I started looking for her.

The day felt like a complete waste if I hadn't seen her.

And it didn't take much. A slight glimpse was enough to put me in a great mood.

- Hi! - Hi.

She was very kind and sweet to everyone.

But it still felt like she paid me extra attention.

And since French is one of my best subjects,

we were kind of on the same wavelength.

And even if her classes went over everyone's heads,

she was really into French presidents, for instance,

I was able to keep up, and she liked that.

She called me Jeanne, French for Johanne.

Réduire les trop grandes inégalités de revenu

et déveloper léducation et la culture?

She didn't speak like that to anyone else.

Maybe that's why I started fantasising that she liked me more than the others,

and that we had a special connection.

It really felt like that.

I thought about her more and more. Not just at school, but at home as well.

It was like she was always at the back of my mind.

No matter which context, she appeared.

She was the first thing on my mind when I woke up.

While having breakfast, all I could think of was what she was having.

I imagined that she'd be eating croissants.

I thought about her when getting dressed as well. Wondered what she might wear.

I tried to pick outfits I thought she'd like, or at least notice.

Because I had noticed her outfits, you know?

She had a lovely, unique style.

She mostly wore wool jumpers.

It fascinated me that she could wear wool against her skin.

I've always found that so uncomfortable.

But seeing her wear it, did something to me.

And when she rolled up her sleeves...

That point where the sleeve met her skin...

The sight of that sent quivers through my whole body.

I was dying to touch it. See what it felt like.

But even though I could feel the effect it had on me,

I still did not understand what it was.

Isn't that strange?

I don't think I realized it until I woke up from a dream about her.

We were at a cabin.

There were others, but they were outside. Only Johanna and I were in the cabin.

I was taking a nap on the sofa, but I wasn't asleep, because I could feel her presence.

She lay down close to me.

I could feel her knee between mine. She put her arm around me.

And I opened my eyes and turned to face her.

And suddenly, it was as if we were naked.

Then I woke up.

My body felt warm and strange, almost as if I had a fever.

And I felt awful.

Like I'd done something terrible.

Something forbidden, almost.

It lingered in my body the next day.

And I was worried that people could tell.

That everyone could see what I had dreamed.

Luckily, the first class wasn't hers. We had choreography.

We'd made small everyday routines tied to various parts of our school.

And despite feeling so out of it, it was so fun that I forgot it for a while.

eight, one and two, three and four.

Five, six, seven, eight, one, two, three, four.

Five, six, seven, eight, one, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight.

But later that day, in her class, I could feel the shame flooding back.

When she came in, it felt like she was looking right at me.

As if she knew everything.

I could hardly look at her, just tried to work out how to avoid her.

Even though... That's not what I wanted, right?

I wanted the very opposite.

Then it felt like everything came crashing down.

No matter how I looked at it, it all seemed impossible.

And I wasn't even able to hide it.

I have to ask. Anine and I spoke about it earlier.

You've seemed a bit off lately.

Why would you be talking about that?

We were worried you were struggling with something.

Well, there's nothing.

- I found this website. - Anine, stop it.

Listen: There are many anonymous helplines for young people in Norway

where you can talk to someone.

You can also try self-help apps, which can help you get out of difficult situations.

- I don't need that. - Maia tried it.

She did? Why?

Her mother was on a home makeover show, and she couldn't handle it.

- You could try it. - It worked for her.

I don't need or want to try that. I'm fine.

Would you rather we didn't ask?

No, it's just... I'm having trouble sleeping, that's all.

- They can help with sleeping too. - Like sleep apps.

I couldn't tell them. What would I say?

That I was in love?

And it was then, when that word crossed my mind, that it dawned on me what this was.

I was simply head over heels in love with Johanna.