It hangs there often ignored now. Just a pier. Something from a bygone era. Ships no longer dock at it. Only a few scavengers haunt it now. A lone fisherman waits in the fog. Barely existing in the forefront of anyone’s mind. But it is back there. In the deepest fog. Haunting minds with its ragged sculpture. This bare skeletal thing. This shadowy presence that hovers somewhere between memories. Some kind of phantom bridge. From the unknown to the unreachable. Affecting in its indiscernible way. An atmospheric link.
I had to go to the mainland for an errand and was returning to the main ship on the ferries. We dock and rather than jockeying for position I look at the view until I end up at the back of the line without a care about it. There is something I loathe about being in a hurry in a crowd. Sooner or later, everyone gets off so why bother feeling an ounce of stress over it? But as I walk up the ramp, the hydraulics start operating and it begins to elevate the ramp closer to the ceiling. I have to crawl to try and make it before it closes. And then I start rolling toward the narrow opening but get stuck. It holds me there with my face pressed between the ramp and the ceiling. The others board on the other side and we return to the mainland while I watch the main ship take off and recede toward the horizon. And I see my squished face from a bird’s eye view trailing the boat and I look so ridiculous. Like some foolish clown or comedian stuck in a pinch. I wonder if I should’ve cared about being first off the ferry in the first place. Because now I’m paying an absurdly heavy price for being so nonchalant. But at least the ramp didn’t crush my head so I’m lucky in some respect. Finally we dock and the ramp releases me. Abandoned, I wander through the streets wondering what to do and where to go until I hear people screaming around the corner. Something is happening and it sounds terrible. A major flood of water rushes and swings from around the corner. Waves smash into the streets. I’m running as fast as I can. Many people are running up some stairs. I follow them to a third story balcony of some corporate building and we watch the city float by as if we were back on the main ship.
Here are some images I put together based on this dream of monoliths floating down the old archetypal river.