Bagging and Dragging #dream 223

I’m in a shopping centre. I’m on a quest to retrieve our luggage. We’re about to board a plane, but our luggage is being brought in via bus. The only problem is that I can’t find the bus station. I was given directions but I can’t remember what they were. I pass escalators heading up, but I can’t find anywhere that heads down. All I can see are rows of designer stores and restaurants amongst paved slabs and foliage. Eventually, I find the right escalator. It’s dark and cold and I spot the bus straight away. There’s an instant drop in temperature as I descend. A few moments later, I recognise the driver, who’s a large jolly father-type man with a beard who waves me off with my luggage. We’re the last ones to collect our cases. Now to find the other half while wrestling three bags. I’m going to have to head off upstairs again.

Do the Charlton

He’s got one of those forgettable faces. You wouldn’t know him if you passed him in the street, and if you showed up on his turf again, it would take you a while to work out what his role is. He might be the man behind the scenes that makes the magic happen. He’d wear a black shirt and probably wore glasses. He could be the chef or he’s the one changing the barrels. And they had quite long lines which meant the beer quality wasn’t always the best. But for a while, it felt like a proper pub. They had events and festivals. It was somewhere that you could go for just a drink. Then the chains took over and made it restaurant only. You couldn’t sit in and enjoy the grounds without splashing out. And you can’t even see the original character of the building any more. You’re just shown straight to a table.

On the Tracks of... #bentley 6

Is this the work of random soil erosion? Or something else passed by here? Something large and sinister has managed to pierce the grass to reveal soil? Perhaps it was a really bit of juicy grass that the sheep could just not resist. There’s even a chunk left if anyone else wants some. But before that, a giant chicken could have been squashed into the ground so hard that the ground’s been pierced and the soil has been compressed into rubble. You can even make out some skinny legs squashed into an outline underneath. It might have laid a little something before it perished. Or perhaps some weights fell at height, either from some farm machinery or from overhead, squashing the newly chewed patch instantly. This is all that remains to tell us that something was once here. It was its last mark upon this earth. A little worm has come up to investigate the surface. Or perhaps he is responsible…

"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."

What if you don’t? Will you want to start again. Will you be dealt a better hand? And how will you know if things are going better next time? It’s very hard to remember what you did in your previous life. Perhaps that’s what feelings of déjà vu are all about. If you feel that you’ve done everything right, would you want to go round and experience it again? Some people would, if only to cherish the times that they’ve reminisced upon. But they wouldn’t know they’d be reminiscing upon them as they relived them. It’s all very confusing. Some people argue that they do live more than once, especially if they’re trying to evade the law and have successfully faked their death. But how you do know if you’ve done everything right? Surely everyone’s said or done something that they regret and wish that they could take back. Maybe that’s why we go again every time.

Little Lambalot #bentley 5

This little lamb was a bit adventurous. Rather than running away, it was curious and decided to follow us. At least it didn’t chase us. I wonder how it got the guts to do that. How can something so small and fluffy be so confident? Maybe it’s been shunned by the flock and just wants to make friends. Maybe it’s mistaken us for the famer who’s going to feed and nurture it. Or maybe it needs our help and wants us to follow it. It could have come from a different land. The hole in the hedge behind it looks a little warped like a portal. The branches could even be made of bones of previous lambs and we can still see specks of their fur. The one in front of us could be a ghost. We climbed the hill in a northeasterly direction to return to the road where we were parked.

Bric-a-Brac #titannabell 27

Finally, a breeze came through. The more she moved towards it; the smaller it was; until; suddenly, she burst through the brick and she was outside. Her next thought was where her small friend ended up. She quicky remembered where she was place and fished her out and placed her on top of the ramparts. She then realised how big she was in order to achieve this simple action. Her hair had also grown and some of it was still inside. Then she realised that she might have drawn a bit of attention to herself over the course of this interaction, and the best thing to do was to clean herself up. There was only one other way to ensure her safety. She wrapped her hair around herself as if it was a golden dress and headed off down the hill, still shaking the foundations of the castle as she walked.

The Hills might endeth #bentley 4

There’s little sign of a town in front, but you get the feeling that years ago, there used to be more trees. At least they’re facing whatever’s approaching us to offer us some cover. Someone’s been busy. But the diggers are approaching them from behind while they’re distracted. I don’t know how you can tell the front of a tree from the back, but you just get the impression that they are. Maybe they’re scared of the sun, and they’re using the hills to shelter from it. How far back do those hills go? Just when you think you can see the sky, another one fades in just behind it. Each one gets steeper as you go up and down to face the next one. Fortunately, we’re not going that far. We continued west alongside a stream, then our footpath shifted ninety degrees and we started to climb north-west. We passed over a track into the next field, then turned immediately left.