I Dreamed I Was Packing Up And Leaving

In the last little while, I have developed a habit of getting up at 4am for a wee. More often than not, I'd wake from a dream. Then i would sit on the toilet in the dark contemplating my dream.

Then I thought about writing my dreams down, so I'd take my phone and switch the light on and write my dream down.

Last night, I dreamed I was working in Europe and my time there had come to an end, so I packed up my office. I’d moved around the school a bit, during my tenure, but when I moved I always had people to move my office for me, and I was wishing I had them now when I was packing up to leave, but all I really found that I had was a spare leather satchel and a tin of sweets to take with me, so I didn't really need anyone to help me with that.

So, I headed down the big modern Scandinavian wooden staircase and out of the building. 

On my way, I met Helen Collopy, my grade 7 English teacher. I met her in an old fashioned stone cloister. I greeted her with “And here is the best English teacher there ever was." And we hugged and she thanked me.

She was leaving too, to live in New York. She said she had never lived overseas so she thought she would now while she still could.

I got a lift to my tram stop, which was at the base of another set of stairs sweeping up to some where, a tram stop that I’d often missed, but I didn’t miss it this time, and I was thankful for that on my last day.

I saw my regular ticket seller, a pretty blond girl, and I bought my ticket. And she was lovely and smiley as she always was. 

I told her it was my last day. “So, have a good life,” I said. And she smiled at me. We really liked each other. “Be happy,” I said. And she was really pleased that I wished her well.

Then I offered her one of my sweets. “They are from Amsterdam”, I said. Then I quickly corrected myself. “No, they are from the other one.” And everyone around me said together “Austria.” And everyone laughed because they all knew what I meant. The other 'A' place.

"Yes, Austria," I said.

And then I go back to bed, and I love that moment, that intermission, if you like, where I lay awake. I don't mind because I go back to sleep relatively easy and quickly. But for 5 minutes, those five minutes feel timeless in the dark, in the quiet in the middle of the night, and I can enjoy the fact that I have hours more sleep, to enjoy, which will come to me soon enough, I know that, but for those minutes I can think about stuff, my day, the next day, my writing, what I have just written, what I will be able to write, and it is sublime there in the quiet and the dark.