jewels and shells

I was inside the gates of a community. The buildings were reminiscent of Chinese architecture: red and turquoise with dark grey roofs that curled like a scroll at the edges. I stood inside a large open-plan house — there were at least fifty children asleep on mats on the floor in neat rows. I seemed to be on a tour of the community. I was led into a grand home with beautiful furniture and lighting, again red and turquoise the predominant colours. A man, perhaps the governor of the community, lived in the home. I was his guest.

I wandered from the house to a small cabin; I recognised the cabin as my childhood cubby house — a one-roomed reddish brown building. I stepped up the two stairs into the cabin and began to sort through my things. It seemed that it was a storage space, a cupboard, containing all sorts of things that I have owned over the years. I was vaguely aware of passing time and the need to really go through everything, to sort it out. I found a wooden jewelry box with Chinese designs carved into the wood. It was similar to a jewelry box I actually own but much larger. I looked inside, searching for a piece of jewelry and found three different pendants. I held each one up to the light, deciding which one to wear.

Next, I was standing in running shallow water, only as deep as my ankles. It was very clear and I could see in detail the light sand and beautiful shells under the water. I picked up a shell: it was as big as my hand and almost flat, white but with a deep pink blush at the scalloped edges as it fanned out. I took a step and picked up another large shell which was shaped like a spiral but again quite flat, white with caramel brown swirls. I dropped the shells back into the water and immediately the sand shifted, partially covering them. I took a few more steps and found very similar shells. I took my time deciding which shells to take as a souvenir.