I woke up in the middle of the night with an indefinite feeling.
I must have been in the middle of a dream, because some memories were still fresh, as if they had to do with recent events.
But they were, also, slightly disjointed memories, as memories of dreams often are.
One thing, however, was beyond doubt.
In my dream there were bicycles, lots of bicycles, but the situations they were present in were various.
Some reminded me of childhood, because there were small bicycles, some even with training wheels on to help keep the balance. There were voices, voices from other children, almost an outcry amidst which at times, in the background, I could hear someone who sounded like my mother call my name.
In others, they were “exotic” bicycles, tandems with two seats, or bicycles with only one wheel, like the ones at the circus, or with a big wheel followed by a small one, like the Penny-farthings. Again I could hear voices, but they were completely indistinguishable now, as in an audience.
And in other situations there were big clusters of bicycles, as if they were about to take over the world, or, the opposite case, lonely or abandoned bicycles and, in this case, nothing could be heard because there was a massive silence.
But what troubled me most was the vision of a kind of warehouse inside which several bicycles hanging from the ceiling were spread around or just piled over each other.
At first it could look like a repair shop, but the way the bicycles were displayed, as if waiting for something, for some happening, granted the picture a film noir atmosphere.
I tried to understand what it was about. Some place I knew but whose memory did not come to my mind?
Or some dream hallucination that can emerge in the world typical of dreams?
Or something else, a premonition, a prophecy?
Without answers to these doubts, I think I fell asleep again.
But somewhere in our world the bicycles from my vision were still there, waiting to be called up for the mission they had been destined for.
Photo Nicoamano ( Malta )
English Version: Renata Kabke Pinheiro
I must have been in the middle of a dream, because some memories were still fresh, as if they had to do with recent events.
But they were, also, slightly disjointed memories, as memories of dreams often are.
One thing, however, was beyond doubt.
In my dream there were bicycles, lots of bicycles, but the situations they were present in were various.
Some reminded me of childhood, because there were small bicycles, some even with training wheels on to help keep the balance. There were voices, voices from other children, almost an outcry amidst which at times, in the background, I could hear someone who sounded like my mother call my name.
In others, they were “exotic” bicycles, tandems with two seats, or bicycles with only one wheel, like the ones at the circus, or with a big wheel followed by a small one, like the Penny-farthings. Again I could hear voices, but they were completely indistinguishable now, as in an audience.
And in other situations there were big clusters of bicycles, as if they were about to take over the world, or, the opposite case, lonely or abandoned bicycles and, in this case, nothing could be heard because there was a massive silence.
But what troubled me most was the vision of a kind of warehouse inside which several bicycles hanging from the ceiling were spread around or just piled over each other.
At first it could look like a repair shop, but the way the bicycles were displayed, as if waiting for something, for some happening, granted the picture a film noir atmosphere.
I tried to understand what it was about. Some place I knew but whose memory did not come to my mind?
Or some dream hallucination that can emerge in the world typical of dreams?
Or something else, a premonition, a prophecy?
Without answers to these doubts, I think I fell asleep again.
But somewhere in our world the bicycles from my vision were still there, waiting to be called up for the mission they had been destined for.
Photo Nicoamano ( Malta )
English Version: Renata Kabke Pinheiro
