I was in Wagga Wagga at a camp. I had a problem. My bags weren’t packed, my phone was missing, my swimwear wet.
Then the airport bus left. I missed the bus.
I hurried to get everything packed. I had no time to pack my bags, I couldn’t find my phone, my swimwear was still wet.
So I ran. 10 minutes to get to the airport.
I had to cover a huge distance. When I got to the beginning of the town centre I hoped for someone to give me a lift. The police were there driving a van on a broad footpath. I asked the cops for a lift. They said okay. I was 10 minutes late now. Flights are never on time. Maybe I’d make it. We drove down a street lined with religious icons and shops.
‘Why is this here, do you know?’ one of the cops asked.
‘Coz there’s a big cemetery nearby,’ I answered.
Then at the airport the cops got stuck in a corridor when they tried to drive inside the terminal building. Richard and Warren were now the drivers. Richard wanted to reverse to get out of the terminal but kept stalling the cop van.
I got out of the van and ran around the corridor. I was in a hurry. The corridor brought me back to where I started. It turned out the check-in counter was down a set of stairs at the point where the van got stuck. The counter was located in a large open area that was ringed by a gallery up above. An older couple was in the same boat as me. They had just missed the plane. It was 11 am now. The flight had left at 10.30 am. No problem. I was put on the next flight in 1 hours time. No phone or luggage etcetera because I left all that behind.
Wagga Wagga. My one and only trip AC After Covid. I spoke to Tina and Jeff my Wagga Wagga hosts on the telephone last weekend. Then last night at Greg’s. David’s Louisa the Qantas flight stewardess came for dinner. I spoke to her about Argentina. I said I want to go to Buenos Aires without my telephone (September 2023). But my bags aren’t packed, my swimsuit’s wet. I’m yet to dry off from my inner journey the journey of dreams (August 2023). Seems I’m waiting for journey’s end for its meaning to crystallise. After Covid I’m no longer someone who goes somewhere for the sake of going somewhere. I need a higher purpose. That explains the shops stuffed with religious icons. Those shops reminded me of Athens. I was on point back then exploring the classical world. That world is dead to me now. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. I missed my 10 am flight. 1 and 0 the α and Ω. I’m still clinging to the old modality resisting a new way. The flight left at 10.30 am. 1 + 0 + 3 + 0 = 4. It was 11 am. 1 + 1 = 2. Dualism. This and that. The next flight was due at 11.30 am. 1 + 1 + 3 + 0 = 5. I’m still struggling with 4 and 5 (July 2022). A false identification has me stuck in dualism. It’s holding me back. Also caring for the aged it slows me down (February 2023). The architecture of the terminal reminded me of the hexagonal underwater aquarium I explored with my sister (August 2020). Rather than a dangerous element at the centre of the hexagon this time the centre was a space of liberation aka the airport check-in counter. That centre is aligned to universal harmony. So off to Buenos Aires then. Mum says they’ve got style over there and I do need a better jacket (November 2023). Only I need to make a second million (August 2023). Next year then. Needless to say unconscious security was there to help as always (September 2018). They appeared when I needed them and they took me to where I had to go. The cops became Richard and Warren. Richard I can explain. He was off to Switzerland and Italy when I had this dream. This ties him nicely to the travel theme that underlies this dream. In contrast Warren became a family man. He took to growing vegetables in his backyard. Together they couldn’t drive the van. Crossed purposes. A travelling man’s no family man.
And at base I’m no travelling man
Not anymore
I just want a better jacket
This is my purpose
I’m not made for higher things
I tired of Proletariat Chinese you know modern day action man made in China dressing like I’m heading off to Everest
I’m done with that
One of my dad’s customers wears the best jackets. I spoke to him the other day.
‘Where do you buy your jackets from?’ I asked.
‘Buenos Aires,’ he answered.
Signs. Candle sticks. Easter eggs.
thejourneyofdreams 