The autumnal rain fell
Little first, then somewhat heavier, more determined.
Days like this make me think of cream cable-knit jumpers, the sound of tyres swishing by, early dinners, moths, homesickness.
As a child I never played in the rain, although I did somewhat like the idea of it.
As a child I was terrified of lightning, and often wondered if it would reach for me through the windows, while I was curled up, fetal, sleepless.
I didn't play in the rain because I was afraid the lightning might finally catch me.
***
Early this morning I dreamt a strange dream.
I'd set the alarm for 5 minutes earlier than usual, because I felt like I should try and be at work before 9 at least once a week. When it rang at 6.55 this morning I silenced it with an eagerness to continue the dream. We rowed a small wooden boat out to a lake. (I don't remember who was with me - there were 2 others). We jumped off, and swam. Rather happily. Treading water against the steady current, surprisingly tirelessly. At first I was repulsed by the murky green. I don't like it when I can't see/assess my surroundings. Suddenly (dreams tend to always have seamless metamorphoses) we were swimming in the sea - deep emerald, wonderfully warm, beautifully expansive. I swam so effortlessly, despite the increasingly urgent current.
I started up and it was 7.25.
***
Autumn evenings make me think of North Melbourne, creaky floor boards, stoned bodies huddled in a tiny room filled with animated banter.
I should buy myself an umbrella before autumn really comes.
Perhaps I'm already late.
***