Registry scan

A dream of being given an office tour by another self in a white coat.

“This is day to day admin…” (Hi Sheila.)

“…and this is where your long term memories are laid down.” (Grim and harassed-looking guy with in-tray problems.)

I walk back into the same office a few minutes later, to scenes of dust and fallen plaster.

The place has been abandoned for twenty years.

It’s another in-joke from my subconscious.

But a sense of nostalgia, of yearning, lingers after waking.

I’m put in mind of trespasses on disused railways.

The track is gone, and the heather and bilberry are back.

A lost siding, soft rain, a robin’s song. Petrichor and creosote.

Bramble and leaf mould collect in an ornate waiting-room, now open to the sky.

Birch trees assemble silently on abandoned platforms.


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