Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Dodger Dream

Last night I dreamt of Dodger. It’s weird because I haven’t seen him for months – though it’s true we were talking about him because The Love might see him soon in London. And he has been coming up on my screen saver. I miss him. We were in Adelaide and looking for honey at a market. I had been looking for this market for ages but could never find it. Dodger took me to it and when we got to the honey stand it was closing. There was no honey left. That was ok. The door to the theatre was there. We walked across the cobblestones to it. And we went in. Inside was a strange, plush, red rectangular vortex and we were high, high up looking over one of a million balconies. The actual balcony was formed like a cinema, with cinema seats. Only we didn’t look at a screen, we looked down past all the seats and off the edge, into the great centre of the vortex.

The Dodger and I took a seat in comfortable seats around the middle of the cinema. Nobody else was there.
We looked down.
Oh god, vertigo, I said.
Dodger was silent. The dizzy feeling was overwhelming. The only way to stem it was to keep your eyes fixed on the centre of the vortex which was a deep burgundy rectangle.
I’ve got to –
And he ran out with his hands over his mouth.
I knew the feeling. It always happened to me when I came to this theatre. It was Dodger’s first time. I felt like I was going to be sick too so I sidled my way towards the exit door, never taking my eyes of the centre of the vortex.
I was ok. I waited for Dodger. He was in the men’s. Then I was in the men’s too in the cubicle next to him. It was destabilising knowing that the toilet block was still inside the vortex theatre - that we weren’t safe yet, outside in the cobblestone market street. I wanted to get there, feel my feet on the ground.
Are you ok Dodge? I called through the wall.
Yes, he said, But my pants.
He exited the cubicle and he only had his shoes and socks on and his shirt, no pants.
Where did they go? I asked.
I don’t know, he said. He looked shaken.
We really should get out of here, I said and led him through a series of grey backstage corridors to the big heavy stage door which read EXIT. It was an imposing door. But it was the loveliest door I’d ever seen.
We exited into the cobblestone street. The daylight was blinding.

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