I arrive an hour late for appointment with GP. He is forgiving, takes me my blood and promises to ring me on Monday to tell me if I can take more of the new pills which are going to cure me.
For once I remember one of my dreams . I am awake enough to make some notes. I a walking along a road in a strange city. Which one I try to guess? I pause by a narrow street almost vertical. At the bottom is a miserable dirty river. Beside the street is a table, on the table a magazine. The wind flips the leaves of the magazine. From where I stand I look for a dome. Perhaps this will suggest the name of the city. No dome. Instead in the distance is a tower. The tower reminds me of Seville Cathedral. Perhaps that is where I am. For some reason I an worrying about the table with the magazine and the wind constantly turning over the pages.
2 comments:
That dream sounds slightly Bergmanesque.
I hope your good doctor achieves results.
Yes. I wonder if our dreams are designed by film makers.
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