Thursday, 2 March 2017

A Dream

(This isn't my dream; it's one of Seven Answers).

sit tight on a slightly damp wooden bench.  I am holding a quilted bag the colour of dry blood.  The birch tree growing beside the bench is coming into leaf; covered in raindrops.  The sun is out.  My face and hands are warm.  I am contented and uneasy.  Three men walk past.  Two of them walk swiftly, with easy confidence.  The third hangs back a little, hands in pockets, head bowed and looking at the ground.  I hear him say, 'I did not go.  I stayed.  The river told me to and I obeyed.'  Then I see the river, quite close by, and I wake up.

No comments:

Post a Comment