September 6th 2018 (Northeast England).
Wandering round, lost, in a Dickensian N.W.6 (London), trying to locate my phone. I remember leaving it on a wall in an alley. But what wall? What alley? I am like Wee Willy Winkie in my nightgown!
September 7th 2018.
The dead are lost. They walk around, shuffling &, irritatingly, dragging their feet! They are looking for familiar things – things they remember. Terry G’s grandad returns to the old house at the top of Charmouth. He waits in the cellar, drinking scrumpy from metal mugs.
September 8th 2018.
A boy & a girl are bullying a child on a street. I cross the road to intervene, but when they see me, they hurry away. I start to follow them. We three start to run & it becomes a comical chase!
I’m knocking on the front door of Zac W’s parents’ house. No one answers. Peering through the window at the side of the house I see the two kids (from earlier) in the living room. They are looking through the bookshelf, tossing the books to the floor. I bang on the glass, but, being a dream, they cannot hear me. Suddenly, Mr. W is at my side. “Come in,” he says. The house is decorated for the Christmas holidays.
Zac is upstairs in his childhood bedroom. He has a map spread out on the carpet & he begins to tell me all the places that he has visited over his life. “Rome, Istanbul, Plymouth, Moscow, New Orleans, Bradford PA, Paris & Lima.” He points to each city as he lists them. He seems very well travelled. “L’ Arc d’Triomphe,” he says, laughing. “Should be renamed ‘L’ Arc d’Sillica’ because of the silicon smooth architecture!”
I can hear the two kids giggling at the door.