2001 / december / 07

a dream of the deep south

I had a vivid (vivid as in technicolor) dream tonight. I was visiting the deep south of the US, Louisiana or thereabouts, with a friend who grew up there. Since nobody was flying anymore, her uncle picked us up from the station, that remarkably was full of SNCF electrical loco's looking as dusty and worn as everything else, doing lots of seemlingly useless shunting around.
Apart from the french loco's though, it was just like the Proverbial South: a bit humid, the green was a deep green, the cars were a bit like Havana's, older models somehow still going. We sat in the back of the worn pickup, we stopped at a store to pick up some groceries in a store and uncle had a chat with the local coppa, having an 'old boys talk'. And i felt very happy at the prospect of having to live in this rural backwater where everything seemed to be going much slower, from driving to talking, for the rest of my life.
And then, while being in the dream, i said to my friend: 'you know, the south is so different from how i thought it would be. The image i had from movies and books was soooo different!'. While, funnily enough, i was inside this dream, which was precisely that image: all my prejudices, positive, negative, romantic, stacked on top of each other.
Most of the time when i dream, i somehow know that it is a dream. sometimes it's reassuring (in the middle of a nightmare, somehow knowing it is a dream). sometimes it's not. Or otherwise the dream seems to be the real thing. But this kind of nesting i hadn't had for a long time. I woke up with a big grin, i finally understood where i'd been all night. A bit sorry though that i wasn't going to live there though...

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