Rubbish
I kept a diary on the road with Fish last year – this is copied from it word for word from when we were stranded in Greece for a few days with a broken down bus:
“…I had a dream where I was running away from something. Not just running down a street with something behind, but an epic chase across several continents always keeping a few days ahead of an unseen dark organisation of untold connections, influence and size.
The most enduring image I have as the last scraps of dream dissolve into the wakeful realities of day is that I came to be at sea somehow. There was an abandoned raft in the middle of a lost ocean and it was piled high with junk.
As I came closer I could see that the junk was all stuff that I have had and got rid of – not rubbish, but items that had my affections for a while and then been given away to charity or whatever when I have had a clear out. Old books, toys, clothes etc were all together on this aimless raft in the middle of a nowhere sea probably only being chanced upon once every 10 years or so.
I could rummage through the stuff and find very specific items I have not seen in reality since I was a kid. There was a knitted leprechaun doll I had as a soft toy and in this dream I turned it over in my hands noting every detail, every knit and stitch. I tried to remember when I’d thrown it away and why but couldn’t. Still can’t.
There were other bits and pieces – things that have been a wrench to pass on but then soon got forgotten. Somehow they had all found there way to this barge and it made me feel guilty for getting rid of them all.
Do they all still exist somewhere in this world; drifting pieces of plastic on a route to pollute whatever vortex draws them to it in the middle of an ocean? Or are they just there in the ocean of subconscience, bubbling to the surface due to some unnoticed daytime trigger.
If I still had that leprechaun I’d think about giving it to one of my friends’ new kids.
Then I’d buy them something else and keep it for myself…”
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