Morning of October 28th
I had a dream.
I dreamed I was in Paris and it was very late at night, past midnight. I walked from my flat to my school and decided I would walk around the city and explore it by night. I felt safe and brave. I stopped in a little café whose brightly painted, chipped restroom was tiny. On my way out I passed the body of a murdered man - he wore yellow, looked maghrebian - and I wondered how I’d missed him on the way into the café.
I walked away, but stopped when I heard a noise. I saw that another man had fallen by the side of the dead man, fallen on his knees, and was sobbing wretchedly. The sound tore through to my heart. I walked on…
I reflected that I had walked from school to home so often my feet were following it automatically - I doubt now that I was still in Paris. The buildings didn’t loom over the street as they did in Real Paris - but I tried to remember if I had to cross the Bridge over the Seine, and didn’t I have to, had I already?
Soon I looked up - the sky was tinged blue with the dawn, and I was walking near the top of a very steep hill, in another city that I think was in America. I looked to my left and there was the sea, the sunrise glittering over it brilliantly. I ducked around a bulding, sitting where it seemed safe - the hill had suddenly become very steep - and I took out my new camera. I fumbled for a long time with getting the controls to obey and all the time the glorious panorama of the sunrise over the ocean became more and more breathtaking. Finally I snapped a picture. Satisfied, I kept walking. It became an overcast day. I met up with Mom. We walked through a shopping mall, then through the back where a set of baby black triplets were being kept until their parents came to pick them up.
(I had another dream the other night that's even longer and more involved, that I'll share later. This one seemed like a good counterpart to it, though.)
I dreamed I was in Paris and it was very late at night, past midnight. I walked from my flat to my school and decided I would walk around the city and explore it by night. I felt safe and brave. I stopped in a little café whose brightly painted, chipped restroom was tiny. On my way out I passed the body of a murdered man - he wore yellow, looked maghrebian - and I wondered how I’d missed him on the way into the café.
I walked away, but stopped when I heard a noise. I saw that another man had fallen by the side of the dead man, fallen on his knees, and was sobbing wretchedly. The sound tore through to my heart. I walked on…
I reflected that I had walked from school to home so often my feet were following it automatically - I doubt now that I was still in Paris. The buildings didn’t loom over the street as they did in Real Paris - but I tried to remember if I had to cross the Bridge over the Seine, and didn’t I have to, had I already?
Soon I looked up - the sky was tinged blue with the dawn, and I was walking near the top of a very steep hill, in another city that I think was in America. I looked to my left and there was the sea, the sunrise glittering over it brilliantly. I ducked around a bulding, sitting where it seemed safe - the hill had suddenly become very steep - and I took out my new camera. I fumbled for a long time with getting the controls to obey and all the time the glorious panorama of the sunrise over the ocean became more and more breathtaking. Finally I snapped a picture. Satisfied, I kept walking. It became an overcast day. I met up with Mom. We walked through a shopping mall, then through the back where a set of baby black triplets were being kept until their parents came to pick them up.
(I had another dream the other night that's even longer and more involved, that I'll share later. This one seemed like a good counterpart to it, though.)