This was a
hauntingly beautiful and surreal dream.
The date is June 30
and I am arriving in Toronto to start my fellowship. I am walking
along the street with my suitcase looking for the Airbnb I had booked
– but it doesn’t look like Toronto at all. The streets are narrow
and dark with tall, imposing trees. I’m increasingly puzzled as I
find the Airbnb which looks remarkably like the one we have booked in
Budapest – a light lemon colour with a roof featuring lots of domes
and intricate plaster work.
I go up some very
steep stairs and find myself in the hall, which leads off to a number
of different rooms. A girl comes out to greet me and show me the way
to my room. She is very friendly and I start chatting with her, but I am struck by this sense of not knowing what
exactly I’m doing in Toronto.
It is quite dark inside the room, and
it is impossible to see the other end. All the furniture looks old
and dusty. I look around and see a few chairs and a table, but there
is no bed and there is no bathroom. The main feature of the room is a
beautiful marble bar in the left hand corner, as if this
room was once perhaps the dining room. Instead of alcohol, a number
of statues sit over the bar and they all seem quite hard to digest –
fancy artwork?
I go outside again
to ask where the bathroom is, but the girl is gone. I walk on the
streets, even darker than before. It is difficult to tell what time
of the day it is, and I lose sense of time as darkness falls. I text
a few Toronto friends but no one texts back. Eventually I decide I
cannot recognise where I am in Toronto and go back to the Airbnb.
As I go up the steep
narrow stairs again, a group of teenagers come out.
They look like they are from the 80s – permed hair, leather
jackets, multi coloured tights. They speak to me in French and I
cannot understand them, but as they push past me on the staircase I
am struck by the scent of their youth. I go up to my room again, the
marble bar and silent statues still the only features of my room.
It seems brighter
now, the moon casting its rays into the room. I decide to investigate
and find that there is no wall
on the other side of the room. Instead I walk straight out into what
looks like a balcony, but is actually a park. There are lots of
sweet little benches strewn here and there under big trees, inviting one to sit
down and contemplate nature. I think of how I’d like to take a
photo to show Emily, how to construct the photograph. The moon is
surreal, bathing everything in a gentle milky light. I realise at
that moment that I have not organised a fellowship for myself, and
that I won’t be going anywhere to start a fellowship next year –
because I have finished doing fellowships forever.
With that realisation, my mind starts to wander, what next? What will
I do in Toronto now?
Then
I wake up.
