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Thursday, May 18 2017 Views: 214

There was a portal under a bridge that connected Capital to Kazakhstan. I travelled it three times with Laura. The first trip I don’t remember that well, but it had something to do with Dwayne Johnson eating pancakes. The second time we went looking for a wedding dress for Laura and in a little boutique bought a long pearly-pink silk dress that she liked.

The third time we stayed in a two-storey hotel in a room with two beds and no other furniture. I went to sleep, but when I awoke, the hotel was burned out – my bed was intact, but everything else was burnt and charred, and it smelled strongly of coal and soot. I went down the long black corridor, tracing the charred wood of the wall with my fingers. Outside the building was burnt too and seemed garishly out of place against the backdrop of the pine forest. There were no people living or dead.


I returned to the portal wading in the shallow river. The bottom of the stream was covered by small pebbles and long thin beige grass grew on both banks. I was barefoot and distinctly felt the cool water and the pebbles under my feet. I approached the bridge, went underneath it and at the other end there were white tiled stairs leading up (in reality these lead up from an underpass near the train station).

Midway up the stairs I met a young Japanese woman who was desperately searching through a handful of maps and guidebooks that fell out of her hands. I picked these up and asked if I can help. She did not speak English, but from what she said I understood she is looking for something that started with ‘mizu-’. I tried to recall all the words she could have meant, from mizu-goke to mizu shobai, but drew nothing, so I motioned for her to follow me up to Old Town, saying that there is nothing to see downstairs.

I led her through the Old Town, pointing at shop displays, hoping she would find what she’s looking for. In one shop we bought handfuls of candy – yellow for me and pink for her, and stood on the corner eating it and laughing, when she dropped her books again and cursed in Russian. Finally we could communicate and she told me she’s looking for someplace to try pelmeni, so I led her to a bistro that sells those and we had a proper feast there.


Additional Comments:

Immediately after waking it was apparent that ‘Mizumono’ was the word I missed as I had tried to introduce Will Graham to my Dreamworld again and failed again (the first attempt being ‘See?’). Probably because of all the food scenes I watched yesterday the dream was filled with food and taste impressions which doesn’t happen often. There were no discernible features of Kazakhstan on the other end of the portal, I just had that piece of knowledge from nowhere.

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