Nothing... for Nobody
I'm dreaming again....
It's funny... I don't remember dreams so much anymore. I used to be so good at that aspect. But, I think it's a skill. And without exercise, or without relation ( Writing about it...) it begins to pale. Or, none have been that spooky memorable of late. But, enough of this one was. That I want to relate it here......
I dream t that I was back in the suburbs of London.... Or was in Milton Keens. It definitely had this old British town square feeling. Cobblestones that belonged in place. Weathered as if they'd been there, and been repaired and replaced, repetitively since Roman times. I could barely make them out, in the new snow beneath my feet. Walking late at night around a round-about with a friend of mine. Matt and I spoke in this dream like we never were apart. As if it was an other time thread where I had suck it out with him and the band. Wet snow was falling. I could see it through the winter dusk and the Sodium street lights. That gave the landscape a weak pale yellow sheen to the snow-scape and the brick buildings that surrounded around the round about. Some had windows. behind which where faint lights. The other's vacant. And one, which was a bombed out crater. Heaps of rubble on a hill, aspects of the horizon masquerading as a mockery of a row house.
I saw actual remains of houses like this when I was in London. Out in the east burbs. Transiting back from the Hammer-smith Odeon. It's one of my strongest memories from way back then.
Matt and I ventured towards the ruins. Where, in the middle of a yellow grey colored grassy pit. blanketed in a light snow, was the origins of the destroyed house. There amongst the broken timbers, stripped furnishings, and upended personal affects. Stood a deer. staring at us. As if caught unaware. She was lovely and glossy but surrounded in flies. As real animals are in the wild. Not these perfect renditions of animal life. More that national geographic, real beauty. Warts, flies and all....
Staring back at her... I remarked to Matt....I'm glad I never really dream of Wendy anymore.....
I'm dreaming again....
It's funny... I don't remember dreams so much anymore. I used to be so good at that aspect. But, I think it's a skill. And without exercise, or without relation ( Writing about it...) it begins to pale. Or, none have been that spooky memorable of late. But, enough of this one was. That I want to relate it here......
I dream t that I was back in the suburbs of London.... Or was in Milton Keens. It definitely had this old British town square feeling. Cobblestones that belonged in place. Weathered as if they'd been there, and been repaired and replaced, repetitively since Roman times. I could barely make them out, in the new snow beneath my feet. Walking late at night around a round-about with a friend of mine. Matt and I spoke in this dream like we never were apart. As if it was an other time thread where I had suck it out with him and the band. Wet snow was falling. I could see it through the winter dusk and the Sodium street lights. That gave the landscape a weak pale yellow sheen to the snow-scape and the brick buildings that surrounded around the round about. Some had windows. behind which where faint lights. The other's vacant. And one, which was a bombed out crater. Heaps of rubble on a hill, aspects of the horizon masquerading as a mockery of a row house.
I saw actual remains of houses like this when I was in London. Out in the east burbs. Transiting back from the Hammer-smith Odeon. It's one of my strongest memories from way back then.
Matt and I ventured towards the ruins. Where, in the middle of a yellow grey colored grassy pit. blanketed in a light snow, was the origins of the destroyed house. There amongst the broken timbers, stripped furnishings, and upended personal affects. Stood a deer. staring at us. As if caught unaware. She was lovely and glossy but surrounded in flies. As real animals are in the wild. Not these perfect renditions of animal life. More that national geographic, real beauty. Warts, flies and all....
Staring back at her... I remarked to Matt....I'm glad I never really dream of Wendy anymore.....