Walking towards work; dreaming about being rich, staying in bed, champers for breakfast, bending our legs together, and trying out the waffle maker.
Reality floods back and I realise my skirt is too tight; the Covid Spread, like a Biscoff addiction, gone wrong, has me in its hold.
Walking down the ally towards the office, noticing the Passion Pop bottles placed randomly near the old broken door, and feeling university nostalgia coming on like an awkward chance meeting.
Turning back, I see the brick wall, and a door leading to more bricks, pipes, a hidy hole for one. A cat passes over there looking for food in the bins, and I feel sad; humans shit me sometimes.
Standing in an ally, hoping no cars come by to take me from my thoughts, and staring into the magical Dandewrong wall portal, hoping it will take me to another dimension; away from the grind.
Nothing happens. It is a hole in the wall, and nothing more. Then I look again and think this is only a reminder of the crumbling history we once knew. Crumbling history before our eyes, as this place becomes something else.
I dreamed of us walking through the Melbourne streets. The city was dark. All the people walked around with candles of different shapes and sizes. We shared a candle and watched the way all the candlelight shapes moved on the building walls. You and I never felt so free in the ambience of no electricity, yet the city never looked so beautiful. There was no coffee to drink, no sweets to eat, no food to feast, so we stood for a while looking at the Yarra River. Thousands of people with candles moved along the river, over the bridges, and into the night. We used our dying phone charge to take photos of this beautiful night. When we awoke, the photos on our phones were all blank. You couldn’t erase the, “I love you” that escaped your lips.