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Digitalia

Digital Abstracts

By Steve Wilde

Lost Dream
February 08, 2009

Damn. I dreamt what appeared to be a whole novel, or was it a short story? last night. And as I woke I dreamt that I had dreamt it and it was all so easy to recall. Now I am awake and grasping for some idea of what it might have been about.

Was it an original plot or something recalling real life events? I vaguely recall some sort of investigation, IT and a locality that may have been real as there was a map of some sort when I was recalling it and I could see all of the locations marked in the one place.

I had been pondering the whole Psychogeography thing since Friday night, so that may have bought it on. Was Shun-Kin, in it's way, a "psychogeographic play"? With all the events taking place, layered in time, in the one location, all occuring on stage as if simultaneously?

It wasn't quite, but it was close. A fantastical plot for a novel or short story, it depends how much comes out, already lies dormant in a musty recess of my mind. Started over a decade ago, while I was living in Colliers Wood, which was very much two or more stories in the same location over many years. I had no idea what psychogeogrpahy was then. I had just become facsinated that a place so non-descript as Colliers Wood appeared could have had such a rich history. That and the archeological dig for Merton Priory that had resulted when the foundations were dug for a new Sainsbury's. I quite liked the thought of walking in the wake of a ghostly Augustinian monk while passing the Chapter House [preserved beneath Merantun Way] with my groceries.

As a child I had walked through Colliers Wood on my way home, albeit in a circuitous route, dropping off friends, in the rain, after seeing Live And Let Die at a cinema in Tooting. But not along it's streets. We walked the tracks of a disused railway. A railway that I later discovered my Dad had watched trains shunting along as a child from the end of the road where he lived. A railway that ran past the back garden of a flat that I would eventually buy thirty plus years later.

By then the track had been lifted and it had been turned into a little nature reserve with just a path where the track had lain. I had no idea that that railway had once run behind the flat when we viewed it. It wasn't until I went into the back garden and lifted my, then two or three year old, son up to look over the fence and he uttered the word "train" that I remembered. Why did he say that?

Strangely, according to Subteranea Brittanica, I now live a little further along the same line. Anyway, hopefully more of the dream will come back to me during the day. Jake, now 18, said I'd have nightmares if I had another piece of that Roquefort before bed!

Better get on with my studies now. The To Do list remains as long as ever despite my claims that I would plough through it yesterday. We did have a bracing walk through Brockwell Park, past the ghosts of the past weeks snowmen, though. Arriving in Herne Hill availing ourselves of the local greengrocers, bakers and butchers [where we bought some fantastic Merguez sausages]. Resulting in some hearty Oxtail soup, a butternut squash and Roquefort risotto and some nice fresh orange juice...

But I didn't do anything off that bloody list!

Categories: London, Food & Drink

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