oh the places you’ll go

June 3, 2012

I managed, in my dream, to walk from London to Cardiff in one pleasant afternoon, stopping frequently at antiques stores.  There were lemon-coloured leaves on the pavements and in the squares. There were trees, sparse with sunlight and the beginning cold. The pavements were grey and concrete.

The antique stores had cluttered shelves of all the knickknacks you find in opshops; bowls and toy trains and bottles and odd vases, glazed in strange puce-and-green flecked colours. There was a clock, ticking. There were price tags. I cannot remember whether they were in dollars or pounds. I cannot remember if there were plastic roses, white, whole dusty bunches of them sitting in the shop. I think there was an old man. I cannot remember.

There were boys in the square in Cardiff, disillusioned and restless. One of them wore a grey scarf. There were lines of them like choirboys in an old hall, dark and panelled and dimly lit with candles, the warm dark of old wood and a small chapel space. They filed in. The pews creaked. Was there a small boy with pale blonde hair? I cannot remember. Outside in the square all the faces were unfamiliar and the squares grey, the air cold. I walked past them all.

there was more. it felt like theatre. but it gets mixed up with the dark inside of a lift and a concrete stairwell, entirely black. an unlit carpark. running down the stairs, hand on the banister, flinging myself around corners. goldfish. aquariums. whales and octopuses and little glass tanks on a roof. my parents. the space and the concrete. and standing in the lift, going up with the doors open, watching the rough wall slide past in the dark.

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One Response to “oh the places you’ll go”

  1. qwandor Says:

    The beginning cold? The cold has not yet ended, bar one week. What was the date in your dream?


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