Dream
Aunt Tudi is yip-yapping on the phone, so I've decided to write about the dream I had this morning.
I was in England, in Manchester, walking down a narrow sidewalk on a cloudy day. I came to a door and knocked, then I was suddenly indoors, on a mattress on the floor, looking up at Syd Barrett. He asked me if I thought his eyes looked like Aleister Crowley's and I said "No, they look like your eyes." Then he knelt before me, tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't want to be a hermit any longer," he said.
And that's all I can remember. I'm always fairly distressed when Syd enters my psyche. The time during which I discovered him was a strange and uncomfortable moment in my life. When Syd reappears, I feel as though I'm about to plunge into temporary (at least I hope it's temporary) insanity. So I have this dream to ponder during my drive to the coast. Syd is sitting shotgun.
I was in England, in Manchester, walking down a narrow sidewalk on a cloudy day. I came to a door and knocked, then I was suddenly indoors, on a mattress on the floor, looking up at Syd Barrett. He asked me if I thought his eyes looked like Aleister Crowley's and I said "No, they look like your eyes." Then he knelt before me, tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't want to be a hermit any longer," he said.
And that's all I can remember. I'm always fairly distressed when Syd enters my psyche. The time during which I discovered him was a strange and uncomfortable moment in my life. When Syd reappears, I feel as though I'm about to plunge into temporary (at least I hope it's temporary) insanity. So I have this dream to ponder during my drive to the coast. Syd is sitting shotgun.