Saturday, October 25, 2003

Dream: Part Two

Sometime later as we pulled up to the address, one of a long row of aged townhouses in the old neighbourhood, I dropped a few bills into the driver's hand, retrieved my suitcase, and was left standing, unsteadily, in the narrow cobblestone street. I caught the scent of oranges as I shielded my eyes against the sun and the too-bright sky, yelling up to an open second-story window, "Uncle!" My voice echoed through the unpopulated lane. There was no answer so I called out again, with the same result.

I walked up to the door and, finding no buzzer, took hold of the brass knocker and rapped frantically. There was still no answer. Flipping aside the cover of the wrought iron spy-hole, I peered through to the interior of the sparsely decorated house, and called out again. Nothing. Suddenly feeling faint, I sat down on the stairs and lost consciousness, with citrus on my mind.

I awoke, drenched, in the early evening beneath a dark canopy of thunderclouds, surprised to find a carnival making its way past me through the narrow, winding maze of cobblestone streets. Relentless, the rain poured down on the spectators and participants alike, drenching the floats, soaking musicians, and turning the ground to a sea of mud, causing the clowns and mimes to slip and slide their way through their routines. A two-story, fire-juggling, stilted skeleton weaved and wobbled with tremendous difficulty, navigating its way between the clowns, with his head among the thick, gloomy clouds.

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