old home & advice

A girl who went right through infants, primary and high school with me, visited me in Brisbane. I decided to take her somewhere, so we drove through Newstead then along the river via Kingsford Smith Drive. I was driving. At times the car became a huge 4WD and I drove with one wheel on the footpath whilst I sped around other cars that seemed stalled along the way. Eventually we reached an old mansion divided into units, situated where Portside is in waking life. I understood that I used to live there and I wanted to show her my old home. Approaching the house, I could see that the blue-grey paint on the walls was flaking away and that the wood was rotting. We climbed some stairs and walked along a platform through the middle of the building, then out to the rear landing, overlooking the river. We began to climb the stairs to my unit, but the staircase was rickety and far too dangerous. We retreated. I then realised that my unit was no longer there, that the staircase leading to it was a dead end and that the entire upper floor had been removed from the building. Instead, we visited another of the units where a friend of mine was living. She made tea and we sat at the entrance to her unit, talking. She told me that I had the classic symptoms of someone whose diet included foods that were blocking the production of amino acids, in particular, she told me that coffee was affecting me.