Yesterday before going to sleep I was listening to the song The Garden by Einsturzende Neubaten, while reading the latest news of the day about Richard Armitage (I’m sorry, reader for disappoint you, but I do not read about the global economic crisis before I go to bed, or on the Syrian situation!). So, I went to visit Servetus’s blog, and a smile was put upon my face when I saw her kindness of linking my last two posts. I clicked on “I wish this would be your color” to read it not as the author of the text, but as an external reader, to try and capture its feeling. Finally, I visited some friends’s blogs she linked in her post. I read about their expectations of going to meet Richard Armitage in Sydney, at an event hosted by PopcornTaxi in Hayden Orpheum, Cremorne. I feel happy for them! As the event is on the other side of the world, there is no way I could go. But a girl can dream …
I walk through the hall of a hotel in Sydney. The dim light, the high ceiling and glass wall reflect the sophistication of the place and give it an air of mystery. I walk alone, without haste, wearing a long black dress, which has a small tail, which sinuously crawls across the floor. I have my bare back, but my hair to down to my waist in a cascade black, like the wings of a crow. I’m a grown woman, aware of my femininity and power (1). I walk toward Richard Armitage, which is being awaited for a press conference. He is perfect in his black leather jacket and he has been growing his beard again. An adult man, mature, in the fullness of his masculine energy. We crossed, and I turn slightly my head to offering my face to him, and looking at the floor. His shoulder partially blocks my way and he holds me gently by the arm, whispering in my ear: You will find me if you want me in the garden, unless you send me the rain (2). My shoulders sliding against his shoulder and my hands touch her waist, and then I turn away from him. I smile slightly and follow toward the outer door (3).
While crossing it, one day bright and full of life opens before me. People come and gone in a day full of light, but not of work. I am young again in my twenties, wearing a flowered dress in pale pinks, just above the knees, white sneakers and a denim jacket(4). My hair is its natural color, light brown and I carry with me some books. I’m in Sydney, and I cannot believe it! I spread a grin from ear to ear.
I see a craft fair in a central square in the city. I go there apace. I walk among the countless stalls, noting the items that are sold to tourists. Then, I go to a square where artists sell their paintings. I see a gallery of outdoor art, from painting to painting for their color palette. Framed art flying towards me and I find myself going into colorful landscapes, green fields, blue skies, colorful flowers. It is as if the city would become a Monet painting. I catch sight of the Opera House Sails on the other side of the square, but the sea separates us. However, there are narrow walkways or bridges on the surface, which are ways for people to cross walking the ocean.
I take out my shoes and start walking on one of them. On all sides there is the deep sea and the small waves wet my feet (4). Far away, there is a fishing boat, offering severed heads of dolphins, which they sell to tourists to attract sharks. I think this is a horrible thing, but I decide not to think about it until the right time (7). I sit for a moment on the walkways to try to see the otters, my fingers scratch the water calling them. I wait…
Bit by bit a couple of otters approaches me (5). They glide through the clear blue water. Their acrobatics appear spontaneous and energetic to as they swim together in a synchronized display, but they maintain their individual swimming routes. I lay on the walkway and stretching my arms in the water to try to get my fingers in its glossy hair. They come to the surface and expel air on my face, splashing water. Like a child I let out a laugh and try to protect me from the water. I move my hands in his silky fur and they plunge back into the sea and disappeared.
So, I meet an old friend (4). We hugged happy and I wonder what she is doing in Sydney. She says was studying to go to university, but married, had children, and was in Australia. I speak that great, and I’m really happy for her, but I feel a certain sadness in my heart, do not let that show in my face. She asks me what I’m doing in Sydney. Well, I say I’m a touris. I could not make the student exchange in Australia, with which I had dreamed so much, but I had admission to a PhD program at a Brazil university in a great project, and was very excited about it. We hugged and parted wishing the best for each.
So I come to the garden surrounding the Opera House Sails, I walk slowly to a bank where a man is sitting alone. A sigh out of my chest, Richard Armitage. I smile at him and walk in his direction. At each step, the years of my life keep adding up, and I become again the old woman I am. As I approach it tells me: You did it, you’re in the place you always dreamed of! And he extends his arm, giving me a black cloak. I sit beside him, laying my head on his chest and tell him: Thank you, my dear, for returning my otter skin (6).
Interpretation: Dream in Sydney – Part II