The Pure Life of Dreams

January 19, 2023January 22, 2023

Visiting the Neighbours While They Are Away

Visiting the neighbors while they are away

Leif, Diana, Zach, and Francis were going to the beach for the weekend, and Siobhan and I had the idea to camp out in their house unbeknownst to them.

I picked Francis’ room because hers was light and airy with a big bay window and was painted white. It was actually like the room in the Hendry’s house next door on Coring Road, albeit on the ground floor instead of the first. And I took my records with me so that I could play them the next day.

December 22, 2022December 22, 2022

Saboteur Needs to be Killed with a Needle

I had a needle to kill the saboteur with.

It was sharp and needed to be oiled but after Siobhan had broken it, it was replaced by a thicker Cleopatra style needle which had a base that was inserted into a thin plastic case which acted as a sheath. The case contained the oil but I kept the new needle and sheath apart for closer to the time.

December 2, 2022February 17, 2023

Unloading on High School and its Consequences

I sat at my desk but Rebecca Farmer suggested we go get some ice cream . It was unusual because I had never really spent time with her before.

“Sure,” I said and we went down to the lunch hall, but when we got there there was a long line of people with trays.

“We must have hit the lunch time,” I suggested. And instead we returned our desks and talked a little bit. We sat face to face and Becky, as she preferred to be called, propped her feet up on the chair next to mine.

Only we did not have much to say to each other. Until she asked me about my high school.

“I went to St. Pariah’s,” I said, “only it was very difficult for me.” I struggled to find the right words. “Because I was… was slightly darker than the other kids.”

And she looked at me and said, “It can’t have been that bad.”

“No, you got to realize this was in the eighties.”

After our conversation I decided to leave the office and take a ride on the train.

I got on the overland and it clanked out of the station. It headed through unfamiliar stops into the Bangkok suburbs and snaked across the rusted rail tracks of a major railway intersection.

We passed tall buildings either side of the train that I did not recognize.

We passed a big white sign with the train stop written in green lettering. Underneath, it said “Sponsored by the Thai Democratic Party” and I thought it strange that they would sponsor a railway sign.

I was depressed, so I decided to take the train to the end of the line because I could always just take it back again.

And the route map above the window looked like it would return the same way, and wouldn’t fork in another direction, though I couldn’t be sure.

I put on my headphones and called Elaine.

“I just unloaded on a colleague,” I told her.

We tried to talk, but the screeching sound of the wheels against the rails made it difficult to hear her. Then we hit a dead zone and she went silent for a bit.

And when the train hit the end of the line I got out and there was already a train on the opposite platform so I stepped right on and settled into the last cabin by the door.

As it set off, I looked around at the other passengers and they were all locals. I could see a family with babies but though I looked across at the seats the other side they were not there. Instead the family was a green tinted figment mirrored in the glass. They must have been behind me, or on a parallel train passing by.

It made no sense, but just as I thought I had figured out the illusion, and seen where the family was actually sitting, a young woman smartly dressed in a matching pale pink jacket and shorts walked up to me.

I was taking off my headphones at the time. I remember the warped mouth piece, and she got real close. Too close for comfort. She stood directly over me. She grabbed my wrists with both hands, before sliding one hand under to grab something from my inside pocket.

It was an object I had not seen before, half oval, flat and black but smooth and no larger than the woman’s fist. Like a blackened Venus shell~~, or one of a pair of castanets~~.

Photo by Bernard Spragg via Flickr

November 4, 2022July 24, 2024

Coqui Frog Salad

I am sitting in a formal park in Central America with Original Anne and there is a white stone terrace up above us attached to the main house. It stretches from one end to the other. And I am describing to her that the sound is from a coqui, a little frog that makes a sound like “co-koo” but clipped, like the alarm from an iPhone.

“I know that,” she emphasizes as we walk through the park.

We continue up the steps to the terrace. And the first level is wide and laid with turf instead of concrete so we settle down in one corner by one of the stone pots that decorates the balustrade.

She lays out a picnic salad of greens with a red barbecue dressing and each of us has a cardboard plate. And she points out, in the bowl, almost disguised by the sauce is the frog.

“See,” she says, as I mix the greens around to find the frog.

It is very small but then I see its hind legs and a general frog shape outlined in the sauce. With my spoon I am about to aim some of the sauce at her when she takes her own spoon and slops some on my leg.

“Hey,” I cry out, “You got some on my pants!”

I scrape the sauce off my white shorts on to my thigh, before spooning it onto my plate.

I’m back home in a dark medieval two room flat on the ground floor. It has small lead windows and it is already late at night. On the phone we are talking about getting married when I hear a screech.

I look outside and see a black car, square like one of those gangster cars from the thirties or forties. In the back of the car a lady is sat straight and from her profile and her long dark hair I recognize her as Janet. She has a large shard of glass in her hands, it glints along the broken edge. She is shrieking and threatening to stab herself with it, holding it up in front of her, ready to arc it down to her stomach.

I rush outside but by now the car is jackknifed across the road. The back stretches into the opposite lane and the driver has gotten out of the car.

“Get in the car!” he yells.

The driver side door is wide open. A car coming in the opposite direction will crash into it and spin the car around.

“No!” I reply.

“Then Original Anne should get in,” he shouts.

Not that either.

I have got to get to her before he does.

I run up the narrow lane to her place, the jackknifed car at my back. And I run up the steps to a new white walled flat. I knock on the wall of the front hallway for there is no front door. Then I step into a bare furniture less front room.

It’s a studio flat, though it has a couple of rooms off to the right. But it is also windowless, or dark, I cannot tell which, as I have not been there before. The only light comes from the front entrance.

I continue knocking on the wall before I fully enter the grey light room but the door to one room is closed. Maybe she is there but there is no sound.

She might not even be in the flat.

Photo from PxHere

October 29, 2022November 4, 2022

Down by the River in New York City

After a brief rain shower, I am cycling around New York City, gleaming cobbled streets on a bright sun filled afternoon.

Here to visit mum, I left my stuff with her in lower Manhattan before I set off with the racer. I have to be careful with its thin tires but nevertheless I am pulling the bike expertly up hills to discover new side streets, while still dodging large pothole puddles.