The Dream Institute

By Hans Ole Østergård

Leif Hjernø, a psychologist of Argentine and Danish descent and the son of Danish immigrants, and his secretary, Olga Tretkova, share a common passion for exploring the mysteries of the subconscious mind through their membership in IASD (The International Association for the Study of Dreams). When Olga is tasked with writing a biography of Leif and his institute, she turns to his renowned dream archive for inspiration. As they collaborate on the project, an unspoken attraction between them grows.

However, their peaceful work environment is shattered when a man is found murdered in one of the dream cabins in the institutes cellar. The victim is none other than the person Leif despises the most, and the evidence points to Leif as the prime suspect. With his fingerprints found on the murder weapon, one of his own kitchen knives, Leif’s reputation and career are at risk. Olga must use her expertise to help clear his name, but the deeper they delve, the more they uncover secrets that threaten to tear them apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398486126

Hans Ole Østergård

The author, Hans Ole Østergård, studied comparative literature, French and Spanish, at the university of Copenhagen in his youth, and later anthropology at the University of Aarhus, and Japanese, in his free time. He spent most of his life teaching Spanish, with main emphasis on modern Latinamerican literature. Together with Argentine colleague Alejandro Losada, he founded AELSAL – The European Association for the Study of Latinamerican Literature and Culture, which involved travelling around Éurope and the spanish-speaking world. Hans has written seven books: A collection of Poetry, five volumes of adventures and Sci-fi, and lately, The Dream Institute, a sort of fictive biography.

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The Dream Institute

Hans Ole Østergård

Austin Macauley Publishers

The Dream Institute

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgement

About the Author

The author, Hans Ole Østergård, studied comparative literature, French and Spanish, at the university of Copenhagen in his youth, and later anthropology at the University of Aarhus, and Japanese, in his free time. He spent most of his life teaching Spanish, with main emphasis on modern Latinamerican literature. Together with Argentine colleague Alejandro Losada, he founded AELSAL – The European Association for the Study of Latinamerican Literature and Culture, which involved travelling around Éurope and the spanish-speaking world. Hans has written seven books: A collection of Poetry, five volumes of adventures and Sci-fi, and lately, The Dream Institute, a sort of fictive biography.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to Mark Blagrove (IASD), who took interest in one of my favorite dreams, thereby inspiring me to write this book.

Copyright Information ©

Hans Ole Østergård 2023

The right of Hans Ole Østergård to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398486102 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398486119 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781398486126 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Acknowledgement

My acknowledgements to my dear, tragically late friend, Alejandro Losada for his idealism and enthusiasm, which helped me to beleive in my own capabilities and in the importance of writing.

Cover Credit: Julia Lockheart, DreamsID.com

We, that dare cross against a red light, had he merrily said when we crossed each other in the pedestrian crossing. And as he never missed a chance of courtesy, he passed me his card passing by. It simply said: Leif Hjernø (Lit. Brain-isle), investigator of dreams. And an address in a distinguished villa in the rather posh district of Frederiksberg.

I knew Leif a little beforehand. Because we used to take a walk in the same place every day. In the botanical garden of the agricultural College in Frederiksberg. And I had often seen Leif stop short to admire the blooming flowers and perhaps pass his hands over the swelling rosebuds or be drooling over the dark violet flower clusters of the butterfly bush, where the butterflies slowly opened and closed their wings. Great was, therefore, my curiosity when I one day found this advertisement in my daily newspaper:

To the recently opened Dream-institute, we are seeking an all-round secretary, if possible a person that is sharing The Institute’s interest in the bizarre world of dreams.

For so it came about, that I shortly afterwards could consider myself as being the trusted collaborator of Leif Hjernø, with responsibility for the Dream Institute’s communication with the many other places in the world, where you are taking the nightly production of visions seriously enough to find, that it is worth the while to study more closely the content of dreams in a systematic way. Apparently, not a thing that was able to appeal to the taste of the earthbound, sceptic Danes, until finally, after many years of efforts, Leif succeeded in finding the necessary support for the creation of the Dream institute.

Aided by his homepage, where he was receiving the dreams of others, discussing an interpretation with the correspondents, being in this way in contact with a great number of persons interested in dreams and when he later on exhorted crowdfunding for the establishment of a Dream-institute proper, he pretty soon received sufficient support to realise the dream of his life. But who am I then, writing these lines?

My name is Olga, Olga Tretkova, named after my romantic Russian father, from whom I also inherited an interest in the fascinating world of dreams, which he, by the way also comparted with my Danish mother. This fascination has brought about that I have become a steady member of IASD, The International Association for the Study of Dreams, an association, that of course is situated in the hippie California but eventually is transferring their congresses to Europe. Namely to Holland, which for some mysterious reason compart the Californians’ obsession with dreams.

And Leif, of course, is also an eager member of IASD. Meanwhile, it happened, that IASD, in their latest committee meeting, has decided to exhort me, Olga, to elaborate a biography over the life of Leif Hjernø, with special reference to the creation of the Dream-institute and, whenever possible, to include the dreams from Leif’s archive of dreams, which for some reason have obtained a high status between the members of IASD. Leif has consented to the project.

For that reason, the following pages will be about how I succeeded in dealing with this demanding, but also engaging task—I really appreciate Leif’s capacity for submerge himself in and interpret the bizarre world of dreams. Well, Leif, before we set on to work on your biography I would like to know if you have some general remarks about the course of your life, that you would like me to put as an introduction to your biography? Are there for instance things, you regret, things that you should have done or said, in your past?

Really a good question, Olga. As you might have experienced, through the work with typing my handwritten dreams, my two marriages gone on the rocks have caused a considerable influence on the productions of my unconscious life and today, when the blood no longer is rushing with the same speed through my veins, I better understand, what I, in the best of all worlds, might, could or should have said and done, that (eventually) might have saved me from quite a lot of painful experiences, sorrows and annoyances.

Once bitten twice shy and perhaps a bit wiser too, but rarely richer or happier. And the pallid afterthought of old age cannot remediate the rashness and improvidence of youth. Regrettably. But then, Olga: IF I, in my early years, when I fell in love with the buxom Agnete, had possessed the coolness of my high age, I might, for safety’s sake, have said:

"Listen, my sweetie, If in some moment, perhaps urged by the so-called seven years itch, you should want to be unfaithful to me, well, just do it, for God’s sake. But without bothering me with it afterwards, please. Do we understand each other, Sweetie? And to the poetic Kirsten, who was next to break my heart, I consequently should have said something like this: Listen, Kirsten, if you should sometimes need to be with a girlfriend sweetheart, by all means just do it.

It’s almost impossible for me to be jealous of another girl, you must know. The fact of all this unfortunately is like a famous drawing by our old Danish satirist, Fritz Jürgensen: The so-called Mr Embarrassment is pondering what he SHOULD have said. And, Olga you are welcome, to use that drawing as front page in the description of my changeable life. But why this strange smile on your face, Leif? Has it something to do with that Mister Embarrassment?"

It certainly has, Olga. Last night I had a strange dream and, in fact, a rather erotic one—

Please tell me more about that, Leif. Don’t hold back. IASD instigated me expressly not to dodge any of Leif’s erotic dreams. Because the Association rightfully finds that being a neglected subject in their own publications. So, please come on with the dream.

OK, Olga. I somehow agree with the association at that point. Here you have the dream. In the dream, I am visited byThe angel of regret, who is a beautiful but pregnant woman, who asks me, if by chance I should want to be laid. I gladly accept her offer. In this way, the dream was rearranging an old imperfection. Because of the big difference in age between Kirsten and me—I am 25 years older than her—sometimes I was a bit shy towards her. And could, at any rate not pull me together to go to bed with her while she was highly pregnant with our first child. Later she told me, that she felt rather annoyed by that and sad.

In James Joyce’s Ulysses, there is a famous scene where the young Stephen explains to his fellow students what Shakespeare’s genius really is about, And he found in the outer world as actual, what in himself within was possible.

The dream then seems to propose to me to turn around Stephen’s statement, something like this: And he found in his dreams as actual, what in his outer world regrettably had not been possible.

Meaning that we, in our dreams for instance find something of all that, that we couldn’t find in the outer world. And a lot more, that I don’t feel up to explaining now. Eventually, the dream can try to restore something, that you neglected in your life, being awake. A little like what happens to the miser Scrooge in a Christmas tale, by Dickens. However, the explanation of Stephen still keeps its value.

Leif, go on telling me about your other regrets and annoyances—

"OK, Olga. The next is about my first, stormy falling in love with the poetic and well-read Ingrid, who, like myself was very fond of all sorts of romantic poetry. She liked to be hugged and kissed but kept on putting me off, although I furiously wanted to have real sex with her. The closest I came to that, was a cold day on a bench in a park in Buenos Aires. I had managed to slip my hand under her thin, dark-blue jersey, which smelled enticingly of her sweat and was suddenly holding one of her heavy, snowy-white breasts in my hand, thinking:

Now, now, it’s going to happen! Whereupon, to my astonished disappointment, big, heavy tears started welling from her sad eyes. Apparently, it was all totally wrong. I guessed all of it ought to have been more like in one of her favourite novels, Pan, by Knut Hamsun. Where the main characters lieutenant Glahn and Edvarda, the daughter of the rich, local merchant, live through a turbulent relationship, where they are taking turns to humiliate each other mutually.

More stormy and dramatic, in other words. At the end, it was too much for me and I decided to break it off. Years passed by until I happen to meet her in the street. I invited her home, in the hope of taking my revenge for my former frustrations with her."

Leif, please, stop for a moment, I think, it’s enough with your regrets. Let us address the story of your life. In due order. Where are you born, who were your parents, why are you wearing that curious name, etc? I suppose you are not called Hjernø (lit. Brain-isle) because of your undoubtedly large brain, Leif? Or how is the explanation?

"Completely different, Olga. The strange second name of the family is due to that they originally come from a small island in the southern waters of the isle of Funen, called Hjernø (brain-isle). Because the island eventually and viewed from the air, could be said to possess a certain likeness to the human brain. You have to excuse me, Olga. But before we proceed, I feel obliged to include my latest major regret. Concerning my marriage with the sexy Agnete.

When we met for the first time, our relationship was rather intense. I had behind me many years of accumulated libido and she probably did likewise. At any rate I have an obscure memory about having been able to have tree orgasms the same night, with the result that Agnete finally was laying there, bathed in tears. Unfortunately, after this stormy beginning to our relationship, it happened that I received a scholarship, permitting me to study in Paris, at a place called Centre de l’étude de lÍmaginaire, a centre for the study of the imaginary, that is what you can imagine, for instance in your dreams, which already then had a great interest for me.

So, happy and merry I set out for Paris, staying there for almost an entire year, leaving behind a languishing Agnete. Probably a contributory cause for her later provocative unfaithfulness. But let us, as you asked me to, get on with the story of my life.

I was born in Buenos Aires in 1940. With a father, Doctor Erland Hjernø, son of Danish emigrants, Los Hjernoes and a halfway French mother, Lilith Bille-Brahe, whose father, Axel Wilhelm Bille-Brahe had married a French woman. And why a French woman? Well, I think it all has something to do with the disasters of 1864. Before 1864 the Danes considered themselves to be invincible, not only on the sea but also in the field because they had triumphed in the field in the Danish-German wars in the 1840-50ies. (The battle of Isted Hede).

And afterwards, they had neglected to modernise their armed forces, what on the other hand the far-sighted Prussians had done, providing themselves with the at the time epoch-making rear rifles, which you have time to load and fire before the enemy get their ordinary slower rifles loaded from forward. Oh, wow! The Danes had to retrieve from the conquered and abandoned fortifications of Dannevirke with their tails between their legs. No wonder then that Fax, alias Axel Wilhelm Bille-Brahe eagerly joined the French forces, once he finished his education as a maritime officer in the woefully defeated Denmark.

The French too had been humiliated by the Prussians, in the French-German wars, (for instance at Sédan 1870). Whereupon one fine day, under the French flag, Fax anchors up in the port of Buenos Aires, receiving there an invitation to a navy ball, arranged by the beforementioned Alliance Française. Un organisation, that the French state has established in many countries around the world, to promote the interest in French culture. And there he meets the beautiful Carmelite Delinois, later called Mux by the family.

Later on, the patriarchal Fax (alias Axel Wilhelm Bille-Brahe), dissatisfied with the in his eyes too folksy Peronist government in Argentina (on his door you saw a sign saying: (Work ennobles you) decides to remove the whole family back to the safer (and at that time not so folksy) Denmark. To a rather distinguished address in the posh quarter of Østerbro, Kastelsvej 90. So far so good. But what about myself?

At that time, (ironically also at a dancing, arranged by the beforementioned Alliance Française) I had met the girl that should be my first wife, namely the bosomy Agnete Olsen, daughter of the wholesale dealer in cookies, P.Olsen."

At this moment I feel, that I have to interrupt myself because I forgot something important.

"Olga, please listen. It is certainly true, that it was during dancing at the Alliance Française that I first became besotted with Agnete, although she at the same time was flirting eagerly with another dance partner (or, perhaps precisely THEREFORE she caught my interest—) But what really led us into the arms of each other, happened somewhat later and is a rather bizarre event. During my studies of psychology in Buenos Aires, I had become befriended my co-student, Alejandro Losada.

We had proposed to the staff-student committee, that it would benefit the studies, if we, the students learned to play-act and before you could say knife the staff-student committee had procured us an actress, for that purpose. A fiery little Spanish actress named Bárbara. I fell off cause flop for her and we initiated a stormy relationship."

Here, I (Olga) interrupt, Leif, listen, couldn’t you clarify a little, in what way the actress excited you so much? Something especially erotic? If that is not too daring a question—

Well, Olga. I will tell you. Bárbara was what the English-speaking, with a euphemism call petite, the French word for small, which one of my bawdier fellow students interpreted as:small and pleasantly narrow." Sometimes, I actually was worried about my poor prepuce and if it could endure the fun. Satisfied? All the same, Bárbara was married to a rich businessman and after a while our relationship seemed untenable and impossible to maintain, as she did not want risking to leave her wealthy husband, thus having no one to support her.

She, therefore, came up with this plan, to wriggle out of our relationship. She had noticed, that I had an eye on my co-student, the sexy Agnete Olsen. Bárbara, therefore, arranged a theatrical performance (a play about a brave resistance group and its fight against the Franco regime in Spain), in which the two main characters should be performed by me (the traitor in the play) and Agnete (my wife).

In a central scene I have to embrace my wife, dearly and for quite a while, stirred up by the instructions and lively gestures of our instructor, Bárbara. And as mentioned before, Agnete possessed a shapely and sexy body, my physique reacted positively on the embrace and shortly afterwards we were seriously loving each other. But that was a digression.

I think it’s more important for IASD, that I, together with the beforementioned Alejandro Losada, founded an association, that we called The Dream Circle because we both participated an interest in the study of dreams. Especially in dreams, that could promote the feeling of solidarity with the problems of the community or, in other words, dreams, that would foster a more socialistic attitude and mindset.

Shortly after the Freies Universität in Berlin offered him a professorship in the Study of Dreams and consequently, he moved to Berlin with his family. A casa, in Buenos Aires, after having obtained my high-school certificate, I completed a study in psychology, specialising in the study of dreams. During my studies in 1973, I received an invitation, asking me to come to Santiago in Chile, to advise a group of psychologists interested in dreams on how to establish a proper dream institute.

On that occasion, I had to witness the nefarious and dramatic events that accompanied the atrocious coup d’état, that the army, directed by general Pinochet and aided by the American air forces made against the lawfully elected socialist government of Allende. Another of President Nixon’s many dirty tricks—that caused the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda to publish the poem A call to kill Nixon.

As for myself, influenced by Alejandro’s convictions I had become a member of the Argentinian socialist party and consequently, I was chased by the fascist followers of Pinochet. Luckily because of my double nationality, I could seek refuge at the Danish embassy in Santiago. After having finished my studies in psychology I decided to move to Denmark with Agnete and at the time two children.

Not least because my own parents a few years before had decided to move to Denmark, to be near my mother’s parents (the before-mentioned Frenchwoman, nicknamed Mux, alias the once so enticing Carmelite Delinois and her husband, the marine officer, Axel Wilhelm Bille-Brahe, nicknamed Fax). However, in Denmark, I have difficulties in finding a job as a psychologist that suited me and found to my cost, that Danish academics are not very fond of the competition from foreigners, which I apparently was, in their eyes.

Because of that, we had to get by with the modest wage of Agnete (she had, matter-of-factly accepted an office job of sorts). Until I, aided by an announcement, found a job as a teacher of Spanish at the then University of Odense—because of my upbringing in Argentina, with Danish parents, I am completely bilingual. And after a while and many disgusting intrigues, I managed to procure her too with a job as a teacher of Spanish, at the same place.

Whereupon that happened, that I had been fearing, since I met her for the first time. Namely, Agnete, in the long run, would be unable to resist the temptation to use her undeniably physical advantages to betray me with other men. What rather got me down. At this point, my dear secretary interrupts my outpourings, with a disturbingly crafty smile on her face."

Tell me a thing, Leif. If it isn’t too much to ask for, perhaps you could give us and the prying readers of IASD an example of this infidelity of hers that so got to you?

"OK, Olga. Here you have an example: she and I had been invited to participate in a cultural meeting, at the famous museum of Louisiana, in support of the recently established Sandinista government in Nicaragua, with the participation of a lot of Nicaraguan and Danish bigwigs, in 1979. I have to ad, that Agnete, besides her inclination for infidelity, was also a little posh. Especially more or less famous writers had her interest.

In comparison, I was just a dull, anonymous teacher of Spanish. Well, some weeks before we had been on a holiday in Mallorca. And as usual, in our holidays, there was no question of sex at all. I shouldn’t start trying to imagine, that we had gone on holidays to shag. Nope! But then it happened, that she found her dream dress in a shop—a cobwebby finely spun white cotton dress, able to accentuate her bodily advantages.

When she, proudly presented it to me, I said to myself: This is a bad omen, my boy. And it was, as I learned later on. So happy she was with her find, that, against all odds, nevertheless that evening there was time for a little nooky. But I will return to the beforementioned cultural arrangement. On our way to the museum, I noticed that someone had torn fragments of pornographic magazines and had stuck them onto bushes here and there, mostly pricks with a hard-on.

As if some prankster would warn the public that THIS is what really is waiting for you in the so-called cultural institution. And in fact! At some moment, on the first evening, we were all dancing around on the dance floor, Agnete in close bodily contact with a more or less famous scribbler. And as if their petting dancing wasn’t enough, she on purpose spilled a glass of red wine over her white dream dress, giving her a pretext to retire with the writer to some out-of-the-way room.

Annoyed, I had ordered a taxi, to be spared of further provocations. And as I intended to bord the taxi, Agnete appeared with blushing cheeks, insisting to join me in the taxi, together with her scribbler. I then was dropped at our mutual home and the two continued into the darkness of the night, probably to his address. Content with that, Olga?"

Oh, that will do, dear Leif. Honestly, Leif, didn’t you really do something, to pay her back for her straying?

"You are right, Olga, I eventually did and that forms another sad chapter in our marital qualms. The beforementioned Bárbara and her theatrical projects had also contaminated Agnete with theatrical fever and she took over the job of staging plays with Spanish teachers and students. She had found a political satirical play, with a lot of bigwigs, both fictional and real. Batman, Uncle Joachim, the American President and Marilyn Munroe. A shapely blonde, amongst the students, Lizzie was chosen, to play Marilyn.

During one of the rehearsals, she took off her bra in my presence and, noticing my greedy onlooking, she whispered confidently: Come and visit me in my college room, one of these days. Surely we need to do something about this. As a matter of fact, I already knew this side of Lizzie. At the beginning of the semester at the university, we both participated in one of these marriage-destroying study excursions. Quite chastely we lay each in our own bunkbed, in a scout cabin in the middle of the forest and everybody were asked to tell a story.

The story