Back Home in Australia
Just had this amazing dream.
I was on a plane, arriving somewhere in Australia, having flown from the UK.
I had some food with me, or sweets, or something, and I was debating whether or not to scoff (scough?) the food quickly, 'cause of how I'd have to throw whatever it was away before formally entering the country. Somehow, I was having this debate with my mother, even though I'd travelled alone, and she was back in the UK. I think she was doing a Ben Kenobi, as it were. Or maybe it was by mobile phone. Anyway, I didn't know whether to scoff or discard, but I didn't let it hold me up, 'cause I was eager to get through customs. (This debate seemed to occur while I got off the plane and walked into the airport building.)
Then I was going through customs. I went through on a British passport, but I wanted it to be an Australian one (my father's from NSW, you see). Even so, I went through very quickly and easily, a lot quicker and easier than I expected. The passport checking person seemed very relaxed and friendly, and I felt as if I was being casually welcomed home, even though I was on a British passport.
I also knew that my stay could only be limited, say six weeks, or a few months. I wasn't sure how long it could be, but I wasn't letting that bother me right now. I just knew I wanted to be able to stay for longer.
Having breezed through customs, and not wanting to waste any time, I headed off through the airport. I wasn't really paying too much attention to where I was going, though, and found myself passing through a shop in the airport. It was a sort of newsagents, sort of general stationary store, sort of combination kind of thing. With lots of book. I passed through an aisle with lots of brightly covered paperbacks on either side, and I thought of Shauna's novel writing ambitions.
I headed on without browsing, and soon found myself a bit lost in the airport, but I was walking quite quickly and confidently. You could even say I was marching along! Soon, I found myself outside, even though I hadn't located my luggage. I did have an old bag on my back, with not much in it, but that was it. I couldn't even remember if I'd brought any more luggage with me, though I could picture the suitcase I thought I should go back and fetch.
Outside, it was bright and sunny, and warm without being unpleasant at all. I stopped and stood and looked about. I was in Canberra, on the coast, which meant it was also Sydney, and it was slightly Athens as well. They just happen to be the three cities, outside of the UK, that I can clearly remember really liking and enjoying being in. But I was definitely in Australia.
I looked around at what I could see of the city, and the bay ahead of me, and saw a sort of monument thing in an unkempt area of grass. It was a small monument, but then I recognized it from the last time I'd been there, over twenty years ago. It was the ANZAC war memorial. As I looked around again, I recognized the city generally. It was familiar, and I felt like I'd come home.
I have to say, the light was bright, and the colours were strong and clear. That was clearly something of a visual theme in this dream.
I walked over to the war memorial, as I could go back for my luggage a little later. It was sort of a stone block, just a couple of feet high, about three feet wide, and five feet from front to back. At the back, there was a small statue of a soldier or two, and in the middle of the worn, slightly moss-covered block, was a raised dish sort of thing. I looked in it, and saw it went down into the block. There was clean, clear water inside, and I wondered what it represented, what it symbolized. I couldn't see any coins in it, so I didn't know if it was a wishing well (to wish for no further such wars?), or if it was some sort of place to drink from (water of life? or something?).
The statue had, somehow, become a person, a young man, quite fit and healthy, and quite naked, who was leaning forwards over the block. He was stationary, but his flesh was real. I wasn't entirely certain that he was part of the monument, but somehow I knew that one way or another, his presence, his naked resting of his torso over the block, was entirely appropriate.
More people arrived, including at least one other naked young man, and I walked around the block to see this memorial to the dead from the other side. I now suspected that the naked man stretched over the block was both just a visitor to this memorial, and a part of it. Then he got up, and he was a part of it no more.
I noticed that some people had stuck some notices on this side of the block. They didn't really seem to have anything to do with the wars Australia had fought in. One which caught my attention was on pink paper, and had some photos attached to it. It was of some sort of social gathering, a party or something. People having fun, having a good time, getting on with their lives. Just ordinary people doing ordinary things.
(At this point in writing up my dream, I've suddenly realised something significant about that last bit, even though I didn't really know why people had stuck ordinary, mundane notices on a war memorial, as if it was just a notice board. And, I have to confess, my eyes have just welled up with tears. It's because of the sacrifice of those soldiers that Australians can just get on with their lives like normal.)
I thought I'd better go and look for my luggage, before they threw it away as abandoned. However, on my way back towards the airport, which was a very short walk, I met some young Australians. They were friendly, and seemed almost to be expecting me. One, a girl, seemed to be in some sort of coordinating role. It seemed I was in some sort of tour party, or, at least, they thought I was in some sort of tour party, or something. I wasn't sure if I was, as I couldn't remember anything about being in a tour party, but that didn't seem to matter. They were nice and friendly, and we started chatting.
We ended up sitting round a table, in a sort of open-air bar sort of area that we happened to be next to. Interestingly, the table was rather like the war memorial.
The subject of my father came up, and the coordinating girl said something about contacting him so that he could come and collect me. I declined the offer, stating that I didn't want to have any contact with him.
It was getting later in the evening, and the sun was heading towards setting.
It felt really good, really natural, and the people kept being really friendly. It was as if they already knew me, and I already knew them, even though we'd never met before. I felt I belonged there, but felt I was a visitor at the same time. It felt like I was home, but that me being back home in Australia hadn't been fully realised. I was aware of how my stay could only be for a limited duration, but I felt a sort of gentle longing for the freedom to be able to be in Australia whenever I wanted, for however long I wanted.
Then I woke up.
On waking up, I quickly knew that the familiar places, the familiar sights, were quite incorrect. It had been some sort of dream familiarity, but I knew the places in the dream represented real places. Sydney and Canberra combined, with the war memorial in Canberra, but, it's just struck me, rather more like the grave of some of my forefathers in Dural (hence the unkempt grass, I suppose). Tears are welling up in my eyes again, as I wonder if this means that the history represented by the war memorial in Canberra is a part of my own cultural history after all. My Australian grandfather fought in World War II, but I never knew him. He died some time before I first visited Australia.
This dream seems so rich in meaning, I'm glad I decided to record it here. I'm wondering what else is in it?
Anyway, the main thing about the dream, even though the war memorial seems prominent, was that I was returning to Australia, but that while I was back home in a sense, I was also only there as a visitor.
I'm almost in tears at the thought of making that dream come true.
I can't write any more right now.
