Gloves

It was too warm to sleep last night. I lay there for what felt like hours moving this way and then that. I did sleep eventually for I dreamt. A later one was of a girl, a singer and a concert that she decided to cancel at the last minute. I was with her but also seeing her in a through a camera lens kicking her feet up high and wearing thigh length white boots. She was a little spoilt, the daughter of a friend who I tried to call but the phone I had was so small I couldn’t read the names or numbers. In the dream that followed I put my trusty black leather gloves on (the ones I wear for walking) and they began to disintegrate. I told him about them. He was there in my dream, in the wings as he often is. I’ll have to get some new ones right away, I said and headed off to do so before I woke five minutes before the alarm. Are these details significant? Or are they just a meld of symbols concocted from waking thoughts and fears?

The morning was perfect. The sea a gentle folding of water. A sheet of blue. From the Perygl I heard the purr of a fishing boat engine and turned to see its lights, full bright in the leaving dawn. I waited a little to see if they’d sail beneath me but they didn’t. The new shoes worked out fine, thankfully. A goodbye to thick socks and walking boots for a while, thank god. Now there is admin to do, a clearing away and a sorting out before other work can be done. So be it. Embrace it for the order it gives. All is well.

He is fifty today. Was he really so young back then? Still enigmatic? Probably.

I cannot tell you of the blue of the sea from my studio window. It is a welcome cool, a deepness. Aquamarine? Cobalt? What do those colours mean to you? DLS began translating the Divine Comedy. I stand humbled. And what is to be my life’s work?