Dream Time
A writer is always in touch with their dreams. That is the source of the inspiration after all. After a life time of constructing ideas out of fantasies I am well-used to patrolling this liminal space and am not perturbed by lying awake for long hours exploring this place. Over the last week, I have been quite poorly and for much of that time I was crossing backwards and forwards across the front line of consciousness. So I have plenty of material to report back on.
Here is a note I made last night.: We are sat opposite each other in a minibus. Elinor reaches her hand forward and touches mine. She says “When I touch your left hand, wake up and record what you’ve seen.” The minibus has a brown carpet on the floor with a pattern of big yellow circles. Later, I am driving the minibus, we come to a narrow place in a village street and we meet a big artic lorry. I back the minibus into an overgrown driveway. We decide that this is not in use so we leave the minibus there and walk to our destination which is only just over the way. We go through a moss covered wooden gate into an old cottage garden shaded by old sweet chestnut trees. We spend some time in the little garden doing some weeding. The long yellow catkins fom the sweet chestnuts form yellow circles on the brown earth. As we are leaving Elinor touches my left hand and says “Tell me what you have seen.”
