Dream amphitheatre pinched from here
For the past several years my dreams have been few, unremarkable, and, for the most part, forgotten within minutes of waking up. Last night, however, I had one that has remained vividly with me for the entire day.
Unfortunately it was not very pleasant.
I was in a bus with a faceless, nameless friend. We were driving through the streets of a town in Sweden. After a bit of twisting and turning down narrow, shop-lined streets, we stopped at an stone amphitheatre set into a mountainside. My friend and I disembarked and entered the arena. A few people milled about, and we decided to climb up the stepped bleachers. As we ascended, the sun beat down on us and a stiff breeze ruffled our hair. We reached the topmost bleacher, but I carried on climbing the few extra meters to the top of the mountain ridge.
As I neared the crest, I notices what appeared to be a square of cloth suspended between two upright sticks in the ground. It flapped in the wind like a Tibetan prayer flag. Drawing closer, I could see that it was more like a baby's all-in-one suit. When I got up close, I realized with dread that it was, in fact, the body of a child, dessicated by the sun and breeze.
Recoiling, I noticed another mummified infant in bright clothing, lying face-down in the scrubby grass. I hoped what I was seeing was the evidence of a local burial practice. Then, turning to my left, I saw another small, grey form, not quite so dried out. I bent down and picked it up. It too was a child, perhaps one year old. Only it was still alive, albeit just. It turned its face to me, and opened its mouth to scream or cry, but all that issued forth was a white froth.
I was seized by dull horror and helplessness. And then I woke up.
Only a dream, Dearest Friends, but a troubling, vexing, and discomfiting one that I've not yet been able to shake. Perhaps this will help me to do so.
The Fall - Arid Al's Dream (only released on 1992's Volume 4 compilation; try eBay)
Public Image Limited - Bad Baby (buy here)
Nurse With Wound - Echo Poeme Sequence No. 2 (large file; buy here)