I’m not sure if the man in my dream was John Wayne or not. We were getting into a car together. I knew that he had died but accepted that he was present, and there with me. He was getting into the front passenger seat and I was to get into the back. I only saw his back. He was a big man, though he’d lost weight due to age and illness. He wore baggy, American-style jeans and a loose jumper. I noticed the pattern of the wool, a kind of spotted black and white fleck. The radio was on in the car, perhaps it was a taxicab, and someone was discussing politics.
Someone was outside their back gate as I walked behind South Marine Terrace this morning (I still had my stick but thankfully there was no ice). He was fiddling with bags of rubbish and recycling and wearing pyjamas and a striped dressing gown. It was 4.00 am.
The radio often brings me what I need or want to hear. Yesterday it was the TED radio hour with speakers talking about activism and then one came on and talked about activism for introverts. Are there angels?