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Detained on the border

Friday, March 3 2017 Views: 80

1. I had gone from Hometown to Belarus on foot. This mostly involved climbing sandy hills overgrown with spring flowers, although at one point I walked through a dimly lit airport and stopped to talk to some Polish guys, telling them that Manchester is a beautiful city, but Colchester is even more so, trying to make use of about a dozen words I know of Polish.

On the way back, I got detained at the border. I had a radio in a hip holster and used it to call the border patrol officer of a higher rank. We spoke in English, laughing and exchanging jokes, although I still respectfully called him ‘Sir’. The conversation got interrupted though, and I had to stay a while in a beautiful garden with smooth lawns and weeping willows in the first spring green leaves. The border patrol office was a tiny bright red cottage by the road. I looked totally out of place dressed in desert battle fatigues. When I returned home, I discovered that Soggy had stolen all my dream diaries.


Additional Comments:

14 hour sleep, fractured by frequent back pain. I had also written "My memories are like a handful of bullets removed - they can't hurt me, but I keep them as a reminder" at the end of the first dream.

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