The Festival of the Forest Mechanic

I am going to a festival with an ex girlfriend. I treated her badly, and we hardly talk. She gives me my tickets for travel, and we get on the tram. She doesn’t want to sit next to me, she’s still really angry with me. I try to explain, not make excuses. I want to tell her about the sexual abuse I suffered as a young man, but not here, not now.

We get off the tram, and walk through a shopping centre. Our route leads us along a metal pole, over a swimming pool. I find it hard to balance, and at the end of the pole, I have to step onto a thin strip of Lego, and climb up a ramp of tiny stairs. The stairs are disconnected. I’m worried that I’ll fall. I let a couple coming down pass me, as I try to clamber up. There’s lots of little things to grab hold of, but each time I try to pull myself up, they snap off, and I’m scared of falling into the pool below and drowning. Eventually I’ve broken off all the loose hand holds, and I manage to swing my baggage up onto the bottom step of the ramp, so it doesn’t pull me backwards. I’m still not sure I can lift my own weight with just my fingers. I try. I manage to drag myself up.

I am on a Chinese mountain side. My uncle runs a garage in a clearing in the forest. There are no roads. We walk down to a shop, run by our family, also in the woods. My uncle asks me to return to the garage for some 90w fuses. They are red, and about two centimetres long, he says.

I head back to the garage. Nothing is clearly labelled. The organisation is to my uncles taste. Everything is everywhere. A customer appears with a car. He needs a specific part. I tell him to feel free to search for it, as I’m beginning to forget what it was I’m searching for.

I take the dog for a walk, leaving the guy searching. We enter a house, and sit by a gas fire. I’m tired. I have an early night.



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