The Pure Life of Dreams

December 12, 2025December 12, 2025

The Hoteling Space

I found a spot at the end of a deserted office space—a natural wood desk with a mismatching extension that was shiny and black and that swivelled when it was unoccupied.

The desk was by the window and a pale light shone through and reflected off the extension.

October 1, 2025October 19, 2025

Jobs and War in the Middle East

I woke up in Kabul. I lay by the side of the road with a hangover, and a fat woman dressed head to toe in black hustled past me. The smells were of the Middle East. The noises were of the Middle East. I had not expected that.

But I had wanted something else.

I had calculated three years in Hong Kong, three years in the States, so now it was time to move on. But I had not expected Afghanistan.

No wait. It had been twenty-five years in the States. Really? Definitely time to move on.

I shifted my body onto the sidewalk and off the road. I recognized the whitewashed walls of mud brick houses. Bric-a-brac stalls pressed up against the houses, shopkeepers selling this and that, selling anything really.

Two or three years in Kabul would be okay, wouldn’t it?

In one corner sat two tables positioned side by side to form an L. Expats were pushing their way to the tables. Grizzled westerners looking for jobs. On the tables were pieces of paper where the applicants wrote their names. Each pile had a different kind of job.

Lawyer? I was not that. Teacher? Not that either, though I could always teach English. I looked at the next table over, to see if there was a better match.

No use for a computer guy.

A man in a sand-colored flak jacket stood next to me. He had a dirty blonde tousled hair look and was unshaven.

Experienced driver? I could do that.

‘Can you fix your own car?’ asked a man behind the table.

‘No.’

‘Can you drive four-wheel drive?’

‘No.’ But I could pretend. ‘I can drive stick. I drove from New York down to Florida once. Make it Maine down to Florida.’

I hesitated. ‘Well, it was only Washington not Florida, but it was a bloody long way.’

So yeah, there was a skill that I picked up in the US after all.

‘What about a Kalashnikov?’ He asked. ‘Can you operate one?’

‘No, but the man in the flak jacket can.’ I pointed at the man with the tousled hair. ‘We’d make great buddies, him being from England, so we can go on about football as we drive across the plain towards the Hindu Kush.’

I pictured us driving an open top Jeep with the guns in the back in case the Taliban spilled out from behind some hills. Yes, this was a skill they could use.

Photo of AK47s via Picryl.

July 30, 2025July 30, 2025

Pirates at the Limits of Our Imagination

It was a corporate wide event. And I had arrived by smuggling myself on board one of the pirate boats. My old department was small, so there were few people on the boat and how I got off, I don’t recall, but I remember that we were attacked before we docked. A pile of children came at us with bows and arrows because the island was occupied mostly by children with only a few adults to tame them.

September 19, 2024October 3, 2024

Perseverance in French

I dreamt that I signed up to teach an algebra class in French. But I struggled with the language, mangling the tenses as I practiced, recalling the words with difficulty. But I did persevere.

June 21, 2024June 21, 2024

The Lion and the Store Full Of Tchotchkes

All the other mini-creatures had been killed and only two remained.

They had to be taken out of the freezer and once they had thawed the mammoth was quite easy to kill but the lion was a different story.

I sat in the back garden, the other side of the walled-in patio and I held the lion within a large Manila envelope that I folded in the middle. His wings were tucked into the pocket either side, and to stop him from biting me I pinched his body to stop him from wriggling away.

The lion could be quite vicious. As he thawed, he expanded and he would nip your fingers right off if he could get to you. I had to tear off his wings but even I sliced the envelope down the left side with my knife he tried to snap and paw – before his left wing was torn right off.

He was still trying to get at me when it was explained that I’d have to do the other side as well, but it was only on my third attempt that I succeeded to tear off his other wing. The lion was then like an insect without its wings held in the remains of the envelope, his head poking out with his lion’s mane and teeth still bared.

I am navigating the antique and tchotchke store after the ~~graduation~~ event.

I couldn’t find a place to lie down so I had gone into the store instead and was wandering around.

Charlie James is there, being berated by a woman because he’s not following her, even though there are goods for sale in his way. I thought she was his wife at first.

And just like Charlie, I too am unable to move. Two tables, both with yellow glass trays, are positioned next to the wall and they are pressed close together in front of me. Every time I try to separate the two tables to get between them, little glass figurines or vases on the trays tinkle like they are about to fall over. So I have to stop.

I look back at the woman and she returns my stare before stepping out of the shop. She looks familiar, like Kim Spencer perhaps, only she has brown eyes.

And through the shop window, a reflection in a mirror for sale, I see Charlie follow the woman out, they are walking along the sidewalk. Charlie follows her on tip toe like a cat burglar, his arms cartoon-raised, two threatening silhouetted arcs, over her head.

The woman wears a delicate white dress that Kim wouldn’t normally wear.

Then I push past the tables into a new space.

Danny Fiere is there. “I heard you retired. I can’t believe you do nothing, but we’ve got something for you if you want,” he says.

I look back at Ned for support but Danny continues, “It’s programming.”

“Programming.” I reply. “It’s the one thing I loved. That could possibly persuade me, part time anyway, out of retirement”.

Photo by Downtown Gal via Wikimedia Commons.