On a restless night a few days after high does Prednisolone.

The dream starts in a village in France. The village is on a hill and I am with an Asian Indian man. We are looking to buy some bread. We try one boulanger and it is closed, we try another. It is also closed. We run down the street to a third and it too is closed. The man is upset that all the bakers are closed.  I note a corner shop which is open and go in. In the back room there is a small rack of bread. I select a roughly triangular loaf. I note some bottles. I select a clear see through, as opposed to green, bottle of Sprite. I go to the till to pay.

The woman won’t accept payment. In English she says that she has been given a budget to pay for bread because the bakers are closed. She says that she will put my food, my lunch on her card.

The scene changes and it is the next day around dawn. I am only wearing a white duvet which is secured around me with a wide royal blue plastic belt. The belt trails behind. I am at a hewn out Mediterranean port.  The stone is sandstone and there is warmth in the air. I see a truly magnificent pale yellow dawn on the soft blue sky. It is so bright I turn away. I turn back it is so yellow, radiant pastel. This repeats several times.

Across the harbour I can see some boys and teenagers chasing fish in the water. They are shouting to scare the fish. I get into the water naked to intercept the fish. The fish change direction and swim back towards the boys. Several flying fish launch themselves out of the warm water and fly off.

I head up into the village naked. I go into a village meeting clothed. There is a bingo like game going on in which audience members are drawn out of a hat. The last two drawn are winners. Twice a young man called Mark and I win. He is a student. Another draw is made and he and I win for a third time. I ask him what he does. He says that he is an actor and is currently playing a murder victim in a play.

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He ushers me to follow him. We go to a wood panelled room where he shows me various lengths of rope. He hands me a thick crimson red rope the thickness of my thumb. It is longer than me. It is inlaid with a single fine gold thread and tied into a trinity knot or Triquetra at its middle. The knot is comprised of exact circles. If one grabs the end of the rope and swings it the knot can be used as a whip. The feeling is that this is a Welsh as opposed to Irish version. He gives me the knot and says that I need to remount it in the church.

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The feeling is of Brittany. I am in a brightly lit room which has a church like feel. I am trying to mount the rope on a leaded glass window. People are watching and commenting. The place is a shit tip, a huge mess and I am finding it hard to work. There are bits of window frame and hinges everywhere. I am up a ladder fixing the bright red rope to the top of the window. The sides of the rope will be attached to the horizontal lower part with a vertical piece dissecting the window in two.  The rope and the knot are special, relic like and mine.

As I am doing this M walks in and sits down. She is very much younger and now with blonde hair. In walks J. She too sits down and starts commenting on what I am doing. I tell her that I do not need her advice. I ask them what they are doing here in Brittany. M says that someone has begun investigating into my genealogy and family tree. The sense is that the investigation is official.

Dream ends..