Here is this morning’s dream.
The dream opens in the subterranean service tunnels under the South Kensington campus of Imperial College London. Most people do no know they are there. I know them from when I helped moved the lab from The Royal Institution to Imperial. I am wandering along the corridors with my white shirt on a hanger. It is clean white and immaculately pressed.
I come upon a side room off the main tunnel it is by way of a laundry. I hang my shirt up by its hanger on a filing cabinet. Several former colleagues of mine come in along with some of their new colleagues I do not know. They are carrying industrial sized cube shaped heavy duty material laundry bags. They are full of dirty laundry. As they unload the bags onto the floor they knock my shirt onto the floor. Soon it is covered in the dirty laundry. The pile of dirty laundry is big and grubby. It smells. I say that they have knocked my shirt into the pile and that they must help me find it. They are very sheepish. I am amazed at the size of the pile of dirty laundry. I catch eye with a number of the people who were my contemporaries. They know that my clean pristine shirt is hidden under the pile of dirty laundry which now has a kind of light foul mist emanating from it. The dirty laundry is in the tunnel beneath South Ken.
The scene changes and I am wandering around the streets of Mayfair without a care. I am light and carefree and it is a bright sunny morning. I know these streets like the back of my hand because it used to be my patch. I stumble upon The Royal Institution and enter by a side door. I walk into the library and there is Irene. She recognises me and says, “I know you..” I explain that she is right and that I left 30-40 years ago. I say that it looks like they are winding up the library. There are card index trays and packing boxes everywhere. There are three young women assistant librarians who are helping. They are very curious about the past and Irene. They say that they are having a closing down party and that I am very welcome. They press a flyer invitation into my hand. They insist that I come to the party. I say that I have to check with someone, implicit my wife, first. They want to know what it was like there all those years ago. I make my excuses and leave saying that I might see them later at the party.
I am now walking through a more hall like room in which there are science big cheeses sat around a big ceremonial table setting. At the back of the hall there are heraldic type ceremonial swords on the ground. David is sorting them out and they are discussing which to use. I walk past the table to the end of the room past David and out onto the back stairs. Although he recognises me clearly David avoids catching me eye. He knows that I know he is avoiding acknowledging me. I recognise a few of the big cheeses.
As I get to the hallway I see Rob halfway up the stairs. I call out “Robert”. He comes down and is pleased to see me. We embrace in a friendly manner and I ask how he is doing. Which he does in turn. As we are talking some of the men from the formal gathering come through and effectively usher Rob away from me. They close ranks around him and lead him off to another meeting. I think that the whole experience has been a bit off. I go outside into Albermarle Street and into the sun
The dream ends…
Dreamyoga 