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| Grownup_Frankie |
I slept in this morning, and dreamt a quite familiar sort of dream - I was walking through a built-up urban area, towards late afternoon, the light already fading. I was crisscrossing backstreets, going down steps, skirting large red-bricked municipal buildings, catching my dark reflection in panes of glass, coming out into open spaces and walking alongside wide roads, passing shops, searching for second hand bookshops I knew were in the area somewhere because I had visited them in the past, and remembered them, their dusty interiors piled high and cramed low with old books - though I never find them in these dreams (when I wake up I always realise that these shops don't exist, except in my mind).
In today's dream though, as I was walking along the side of a road I saw ahead of me a thin, long-haired man, mid-forties, quite worn-out looking, as though he had travelled a great distance, holding the hand of a young boy about nine or ten years old, and they were singing. They sang in such a high, haunting, ethereal cadence - a sad, almost unbearably beautiful sound - a lament, surely, for something lost, something their hearts had lost, a lost homeland or a lost cause or a lost mother/wife perhaps, something absent from the world that needed to be sung back into rememberance.
That sound hasn't left my mind all day.
Edited Sat 15 Oct 11, 7:00 PM by Grownup_Frankie
| 15 Oct 11, 7:34 PM Ima_Kant UK(PO), 3 yrs  |
What a beautiful image... dreams are a such a gift. |
| 15 Oct 11, 9:55 PM geoff917 UK(CO), 3 yrs |
Lovely..... v cool "In order to finish first, you must first finish".....Roger Penske |
