I'm in an old hotel (??), brick and mortar, big, down in the basement, and I'm with my daughter (young, toddler, under 5) and my father's on a buckboard, you know, old-styled horse drawn wagon, and he's going to be riding through and wants me to throw on my daughter...
She'll like this, and so sure enough he comes riding through and and I get her and a couple stuffed animals onto the seat, and then they're past me and I'm trying to catch up...
There's all sorts of things tripping me up, the hall's made narrow by an enamel wood burning stove, cupboards, and the wagon has knocked all the doors open and I'm wondering how it got through...
He'd driven it around the top of the hotel, the lobby, the beautiful light of the setting sun, summer, and I'm trying to snap a picture of him & the daughter on the wagon, golden hues against rich deep blues, the phone though, it's not working, can't seem to pull up my camera, and I'm trying to scrape off some duct-tape residue that must be interfering...
The daughter's coming towards me, herself now maybe 12 years old, and she's someone on her shoulders...
Outside, a beautiful garden, slivers of vanishing sunlight playing against the brick of the building, and again I'm trying to catch a photo, but this damned phone, camera...
And a Canada Goose flies right past me, into a deep green-blue hedge, and it changes there, into a silhouette of something else completely, something unreal, something formless that begins to sing...
(and I wake up, a beautiful dream and all attempts to get back to it fail...)