wong phone

Friday; March 2, 2007 5:07 PM

Dreams continue flowing underneath the level of the waking mind, I breath in deep, change position and look at the alarm clock. I don't have to get up at six. It is 4:37. A moment ago I was struggling trying to make a phone call and realising I had taken the wrong mobile phone with me. I was in Catia and I knew my phone wouldn't work with the local telephone network but it would, curiously, work on wi-fi wireless network and that I would find a signal, but then I had realised I had brought the wrong phone by mistake and this one didn't have wi-fi or internet capabilities. I was in the old house in Catia. I had the horrible feeling I also had brought the wrong guitar. I opened my guitar case. There was no guitar in it. I head the laughter and chirpy natter of girls in the distance.

I'm always losing things. I'm in Caracas at the moment and I'm not sure how to get out and back to Britain since I seem to have lost my passport. When I look for it I only find the Venezuelan one, but it is the Italian one I will need. I've also lost my watch and can only tell the time by reading the display on my phone, but this is broken so I have to move it at certain angles and squint. I go out on the street and people seem to look at me funny. I do certainly look differently, I'm much older, with long hair and dressed in black. A zamuro flies low overhead and crows -never heard a zamuro crowing, is that possible?

Find myself lost in Casalta, in the middle of the estate, tower blocks on either side... I am more than ever an outsider, I should not be here. I now know this to be a dream, I haven't been to this part of the world since nineteen seventy-nine. The shopping centre has not yet been built so it is long before then. I must wake up I must wake up.

I'm back in the house in Catia. I'm in the upstairs room, where someone has built half a dozen toilets, several of which are now overflowing. My phone is on the floor, but it is covered in water. I run to unplug the TV and the betamax. The landline phone rings, I pick it up, a distant voice dictates something in English. This reminds me, when am I due to fly back to London? The date might already have passed.... Then I realised I've lived this occasion a million times, but in dreams. So I am still in a dream. Must wake up, must wake up...

It's misty all round, you can hardly see anything. A ray of sun breaks through the fog but doesn't reveal much more. I hear a soft distant music but I know I must not go in that direction. There is a threat that I cannot see but sense very powerfully. Also I have the feeling that I'm still in Catia but there is nowhere like this in Catia, there could not be. This must be a dream.. wake up please wake up..