Patricia caught COVID-19 recently and experienced vivid dreams as a result.
My first job was working as a plankton sorter at The National Institute of Oceanography. The plankton was caught by the research ship Discovery, bought back to the laboratory, preserved in alcohol or formaldehyde, washed and the different species sorted into petri dishes with the aid of a microscope.
I had two children and after my marriage to their scientist father ended, I changed career and taught myself about antiques and old books. I had two secondhand bookshops and sold antiques at fairs and markets. On the antique side I specialised in antique textiles but also other curiosities. Recently I’ve been interested in Victorian photography especially silver gelatine prints, daguerreotypes, ambrotypes and carte de visite. Although now retired antiques are still my passion.
On the day I moved to St Leonards when walking past Studio 36 I asked Veronica did she know where area D was to park my car: she said no but come in and have a cup of tea!
Soon Veronica and myself were off exploring the Devon countryside, true dryads we prefer leafy glades and a bower. Veronica navigated with random left and right turns. I drove quite well forward but not so well back which led to a few memorable escapades trying to get out of ditches or wedges in lanes.
In March I caught Covid 19 and had quite a few strange dreams Veronica was often in them.
Here is one of them:
You know how in dreams they suddenly zoom in? Well anyway this last dream it suddenly zoomed in from a clear three quarter view of a tropical bird in muted highland tweedy mauve’s and heather colours to the breast feathers they then changed colour to vivid luminescent greens and blues.
Another zoom in and exquisite detail of each feather. Then each feather metamorphosed into a miniature tuba and without a a player started playing zany music! The whole of the birds breast feathers were now tiny tubas playing scintillating tunes!
A zoom out and I’m witnessing the bird moving on its perch with its breast feathers transformed and playing.
Last night we were in a great castle full of antique textiles laid before you and I were great swags of heavy ivory coloured silk each probably about ten feet in length. A boy about sixteen years old in c18th costume presented and turned them over for us each piece was decorated with exquisite calligraphy in brown or Indian ink, the characters were different on each silk. Some were Zen circles with a red chop. Others were in ancient languages complex with characters unknown to either of us. We looked into each others faces awe stuck, neither of us spoke. The rest of the dream was fragmented.