In the mire of days where you follow a pattern, there are little moments you don’t want to forget, like waking dreams you want them to stick with you. In this post I will capture one of my waking dreams as best I can.

I stepped out of my last class, out of the work grounds at the company I was teaching at after dropping off my badge at security. The day was fairly unusual already in that my first two classes were cancelled meaning it went from being my busiest of the week to my least. As I usually do,  I put in my headphones and started listening. The last track I had been this (well, the “Bambi’s Dilemma” album version):

 

It was on repeat from some time last week: when I get stuck on a song I usually overplay it for the longest time until I am a little fed up of it, until of course I can go back to it a while later.

As I finished walking up the street and towards the end of the road that leads away from the company, I walked onto the main road; a junction to an airport, with a bridge on the left that shielded my initial stroll towards the main road itself and into bountiful rays of warm sunlight – the kind that blinds you a little.  Through the rays I saw all these seeds that the nearby plants had released; young kids in Scotland sometimes call them “fairies” and hold the belief that if you catch on in your hands you can make a wish. There were literally thousands of them floating through the haze, past you, through you, onto your clothes and hair and away again.  They danced through the shine like aimless ghosts – drifting in the sunlight like some kind of purgatory. Out from underneath the shadow of that motorway bridge, I had stepped into some other ethereal world.

I was snapped out of it by a small lizard that had managed to retain it’s awareness while sunbathing as it ran away from my looming shadow. I’ve been meaning to write a poem about those little lizards on that walk for a while now. I’ll get to work on a haiku at some point when I’m not being stopped by conductors on buses…

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