dream diaries…103


The winter sun is low on Merringdam. The wide street is light and the side streets are shadowed. The shop fronts flicker with pedal bikes, pedestrians and old fashioned cars. Bright voices spill from the courtyards. Transistors, a clapping game, neighbourly chat.


‘heartbeat, pygmalion, blonde.’


Ray’s ex-wife, Sylvia, is in the back garden at his old house in north London. It is a pretence of the past (the early part of the century). She kneels at the rose beds where Pip S and I buried Ray’s ashes. She has a mask on and I remember that everyone used to talk behind her back for wearing one. Now it would be the other way round.

13 thoughts on “dream diaries…103

    1. Actually, no. It was more a reminder of past times and of Sylvia and Ray and Pippa. It was pretty much a straight play-back of an actual event. But the interesting part to me was that it reminded me that S. actually did use to wear a mask years and years ago (she was Malaysian and perhaps this practice was quite normal for her? It was always strange to S that no one else wore masks to go shopping on the high street…much to everyone’s amusement/confusion). I hadn’t thought of her for many years. Ray, though, remains one of my little heroes in life. He would have loved the idea. Some scenes from life remain with us forever, don’t they; however seemingly insignificant – holding an important place in our make-up. I have written of this scene – or approximations of it- several times over the years. Perhaps best with ‘Notes For A Future Conversation’ and some other piece about a vicar playing a piano (that I can’t recall the title of…).

      Thanks, as always, Liz, for your interest and encouragement xx

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m glad to hear that the dream was a good memory for you. You’re right that some scenes from life remain with us forever. What surprises me now is how equally weighted the insignificant scenes are with the profound in my memory now. The scene with the vicar playing the piano sounds intriguing . . .

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Much of your work returns to the same characters, places, associations, and forms. I’ve been thinking of suites or movements of these in the form of a book (maybe 60-80 pages?). I think curation might involve the “living room floor” method used by poets.


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