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.