I had the most amazing and vivid dream last night. Its been on my mind all day so I thought Id share it. I was 10, it was the summer of 1977, Jubilee year, the summer I broke my arm. I know this because in my dream my arm was in plaster. We lived in Ffordd Tudur, near the dock, opposite MEM. I could see myself walking through the front gate and making my way through the house via the porch door. Mam was in the kitchen doing the laundry and the smell of Ariel washing powder was wafting out of the old washing machine she had with a mangle on it. I could see the lino we had on the kitchen floor, a sort of tiny, abstract print in blues and reds. The back door was open and I made my way through. Dad was in the back garden with his sleeves rolled up, digging potatoes. David was getting a row for running through the dirt that Dad had lifted. Terry was sat on a chair sun bathing and Louise and Tracy were splashing about in a little paddling pool by the back door. I made my way past Terry towards the greenhouse that was under the old Sycamore tree. There were Strawberries that Dad had planted, but they werent ripe yet. I made my way to the top of the garden to the tall Fuchsia bush that was heavy with little, red ballerinas. I picked the fallen ones off the floor and if the petals hadnt opened I popped them open with my fingers. This was all so clear, but in slow motion. it cant have been a recollection because Im sure mam had an automatic washing machine by then. Perhaps just a montage of memories turned into a dream. it was lovely :)
Posted on: Sun, 28 Dec 2014 18:53:38 +0000
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