clinging to the wreckage

It had been a long and difficult week in Miami. I’d arrived on Saturday night and, after a quick dinner in the hotel, I went to bed. In the morning I woke up, had breakfast at the pool, had a swim, watched some English football, then took an Uber down to South Beach. I wasn’t sure where to head to, so I set my destination as the Art Deco Welcome Centre right in the heart of Ocean Drive. The driver’s name was Jean-Christophe, originally French, but had lived all over the world, and was in Miami for some business reason that I couldn’t quite grasp. As we approached the art deco centre there was a lot of traffic, so I asked JC to drop me off right where we were. I hopped out and immediately found myself staring into a cool, dark, beautiful bar. I wanted to walk in and order a beer, but it was 11am and I was meeting a friend and his wife, so I thought it best to resist for at least one hour. I walked down Ocean Drive and back up through the bright colours and overwhelming s

In the dream we were in a swimming pool, surrounded by friends and strangers. You were naked and it was the most natural and beautiful thing anyone had ever seen. You were laughing and joking with me and our friends, aware of my love, were smiling. Suddenly, it changed, you started to shout at me as you climbed from the pool. You were saying that I had recently been aggressively flirtatious with you and that you never wanted to see or speak to me again. Our friends were sad, shocked, looking at me as if they were uncertain if I deserved pity or scorn. A few moments later I had moved onto the next nightmare in which swans were gathering at the major lakes of the earth in preparation for the end of the world as floods washed cities into ruin and people drowned in their hundreds of thousands. From watching this I was suddenly washed out to sea and the current was pulling me rapidly to an icy and lonely death. As I rushed out in the foamy water and ice I wo