Write on Wednesday … the re-write
13 Sep 2011
Last night I dreamt I went to the dam and saw it.
I felt the chill standing there by the thick reeds and mud, while I tried the edge, it was too dark to go in. There was a dark house behind me. In my dream I heard children calling out and I searched the water for their faces. I peered in through the dark rust coloured reeds. I called but the dam had no answer.
It is always the same dream. The house has infinite rooms. Rooms within rooms. Boxes filled with treasures. Secret staircases that rise high into the building with no sense of reaching another floor. Then, suddenly, it is all on fire. Burning to the ground.
. . .
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