Header image by Tiago Lima under Creative Commons 2.0.
My mind isn’t afraid to show me places I could have only dreamed up. It rarely shows me the truth but I think what it shows me is more interesting than reality could ever be. Sometimes, but rarely, it takes me to other countries. I’ve been to the USA twice. The first time, I found myself walking down a fairly ordinary street. At that time, I had a strange craving for Lucky Charms (being English, I had never tried them until this December) and they were £1, which is a great deal for a box of cereal. I don’t remember if I bought it…I believe I did. A short blank follows in memory. The next I remember is being in a shopping mall (it’s in the USA, that’s what I call it, right?) I met someone there that I knew at that time, but not now. I was with someone I also used to know. I talked to the former before eventually talking to the latter. I can’t remember what I said, but something I said made him laugh a lot. That’s the last I remember of that.
The second time, I was on a coach through a desert located somewhere in the south. It would have been a desert but I’m thankful it wasn’t. There were huge metal monoliths spread all throughout the desert. Reflecting different colours as the coach moved past; they were somewhere between pink, bronze and silver. A shiny pink. Even then, I wasn’t sure what they were. They unnerved me but at the same time fascinated me; even there it was outlandish to me.
I remember once going to Iran. I travelled between Iran and England several times. I believe I was looking for a food recipe; I believe it was for a type of soufflé. I wonder why I’d need to go there for a recipe. But I remember being there for more than just a recipe. There was something else going on, something bigger…what was it? Was the recipe just a cover? I definitely remember being frustrated over food-related issues, so that also held at least some importance (at least to me.)
In dreams back home, I see a lot of the sea. The sea has always behaved strangely in my dreams; it seems alive, and seems to have something against me. It sends tidal waves against me, it tries to flood wherever I am or it will go as far as moving whatever building or vehicle I happen to be in. As a result, I’ve always been wary of the sea outside of perfect weather. It once swallowed up an entire town, leaving a desolate little rock with a small village’s worth of buildings and walking area. It no longer seemed to be angry; it was still. Like submerging whatever this place once was had calmed it. Of course, this could have been over time; I was in the 29th century, yet it wasn’t futuristic at all. In fact, it seemed to be a good few decades, maybe nearly a century or more, behind the present day. The streetlamps were powered by fire and oil.
The people there struck me as nearly Victorian; maybe this was an attitude born of the will to survive against such odds. They seemed efficient, if not a bit on edge. They knew full well that I was from over 800 years before. They seemed to value me for the knowledge I held. Maybe I knew something about living in times with lower sea levels (but even now, there’s been widespread flooding in the UK.) I’m not sure if I knew anything of worth to them. I felt no connection to any of them either and I knew that they only cared that I was from an earlier time.
I remember being at the top of a path leading downwards. The land where the path was flattened out briefly for the house next to it before the path descended yet again where I saw more houses below. They also seemed like fairly ordinary houses although they looked slightly newer than everything else on this island. Honestly, I didn’t really like this island anyway. But this was the only land in an otherwise unending ocean. For all I know, the rest of the UK was completely submerged leaving only mountaintops in Scotland and Wales. I do also remember explaining something to the residents there, though. It was a fairly neutral conversation (although I don’t remember what I was explaining to them, exactly.)