searching & memory

I was with my parents, wandering around a mens clothing store in Newcastle. Though we were supposed to be finding clothes for Dad, I was searching for a particular grey jumper for me. I tried on a number of outfits - men's suits, jumpers, shirts and trousers - and left them hung on a hook in the changing room. I was looking for the ideal jumper. I spied a rack of soft cotton and wool tops that were loose-fitting, wide-necked and made of remarkably fine cloth. This was what I was looking for! I sorted through the tops to find one of my size, but the only one small enough in mens sizes was a dusty pink. I tried it on but it looked strange; the neck hung very low and the sleeves were tight. As I was checking my reflection in the mirror, a toddler, lying under a sheepskin rug in a baby capsule which was placed on a bench, told me that I looked very nice. He had dark red hair and bright blue eyes. I told him that he did too but he said something about having weak lungs. His mother picked up the capsule and walked away.
Next, I was with a friend in a house (that was more like a large box, sitting below street level) in the street where I used to live when I was a teenager. We were waiting for the mobile carpenter to arrive: every weekend a mobile carpenter would drive through the neighborhood in a ute, park at various sites along the way, and see if anyone needed anything fixed or built. We needed to buy some pliers - apparently these were available for sale from the carpenter. Rather than wait any longer, I decided to find the carpenter. I climbed out of the box and ran down the street. I was running so fast that I was almost flying. I caught sight of my reflection in the buffed paintwork of parked cars and saw that I was changing into a man, the faster I went. I slowed my pace so as not to change altogether. When I ran all the way down the street and around the corner, I could see the church where I used to go, old now but teaming with activity. Suddenly I bumped into something: an old woman hiding under a white sheet, standing in the middle of the footpath. I apologised and uncovered her face to see if she was alright. I thought I recognised her from years ago but she was so old now that I couldn't be sure. She asked me how old I was. I paused as I had to think about it to remember and then I answered - forty. She was surprised and so was I, thinking that I must be younger. I continued, running along the road, not so clear about why I was running anymore. Further up the road, I was handed two letters that, upon opening them, were both from the old lady. She had invited me to a dinner and to spend the night at her bed and breakfast. I was both pleased and frightened; something about her age and my hazy memories of her scared me. I had a sense of foreboding.
Next, I was running with another person, through an old, old house that was falling down in places. It was a mansion with many flights of twisting stairs, secret rooms, narrow hallways, tunnels and trap doors, as well as grand open spaces. We were running from the ground level entry, up through the maze, aiming to reach the upper level of the house. At some point, we both took off our shoes and left them lying on the floor. Up and up, we ran past old people going about their business in the house, through rooms and along sloping hallways that I feared may just give way and fall off the house. We ran until we reached a central room on the top floor with red carpet and peeling wallpaper. We stopped running. There was a room, just off this room, where I was scared to venture, but I opened the heavy wooden door and peered inside. It was dark, the windows draped with old dusty curtains. The red carpet continued into the room and there appeared to be an old bed and clothes still in the room. We began our descent, taking a shorter route back down to the ground level. There we found another couple of rooms that were now deserted. I recalled that this used to be the place that we held theatrical shows and concerts and created many wonderful works of art. It was now haunted.
The girl with me had found some other friends and was smoking, getting stoned. I felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave. I started to sing a song that I remembered, the words coming back to me as I went. I walked outside so as I could sing more freely and with volume, away from the smoke and the company. I loved the song and the feeling of singing. Suddenly I knew that I had to leave, but first I had to retrieve my shoes that I had left somewhere in the house. I couldn't remember where and wasn't sure of my way around the house without my friend. I asked her to show me the way and she agreed, but the very first hallway that we started walking along, shrank rapidly until it was a very narrow tunnel. We burrowed our way along, climbing the icy blue walls, the walls squeezing us in, until I couldn't stand it. I wriggled back out into the open and cried. I had to get my shoes to leave but I couldn't go forward, through the maze of memory.