The music players in the dream are complicated, but in the end it works
In the dream, I remember that I used to have a music app on my cell phone that isn’t even available on the new cell phone. While I’m setting it up, I’m already formulating the technology diary entry about it. After installing the app it still doesn’t work and I don’t see how it should work. But “the same switch as always” has now appeared in the stairwell at the top, although as I wrote it down it’s not clear to me what that meant: As with all music apps? Like before with exactly this one? It is embedded in the floor, about the size of your hand, square, and glitters in rainbow colors). I press the switch and a white room in the attic opens, which is full of other colorful things that probably belong to other apps. In the back right corner there is a larger device that I can now use to turn on the music. It is transmitted to several two-pronged, bone-colored things about the length of a finger that have a crest or gills on the sides. (Their shape in the dream is probably the result of me looking at pictures of old flint-working and net-making tools over the last few days.)
I go back to my workplace in front of the house next door. On the way, I think about the fact that now everyone will be able to see from the technology diary post how one-sided my music preferences are because they can see my playlist (which doesn’t actually exist; but the one-sided music preferences thing is true). I sit down and can’t really imagine how the music is going to get into my devices. But when I hold the fork things to my ear, I can actually hear them well. I have no idea how it works, the fork things seem as if they contain no technology at all. I arrange my work situation, which consists of the cell phone and two other unclear small components, and am satisfied that I no longer have to carry the heavy laptop around.
(Kathrin Passig)