Day Eighty Five: Eduardo’s Road To Fitness

“Wow”. I woke up and that was the first thing I said. Not particularly erudite I know, but it worked. You see, I’d just had the most lucid dream. It was so incredible, it stayed with me all day. Kept popping back into my head, testing me, making me think, trying to unravel the complex plot. Freud would have loved it. I’m not a dream analyst, but perhaps one of you out there on the web are. So here’s the dream, laid out for you in full colour.

I think it was meant to be Casablanca. It was certainly meant to be some incarnation of Morocco. I was in a bazaar. Or at the very least, what I think a Moroccan bazaar would be like, for I’ve never been to one.

It was hot, which, I suppose, if it was summer, is probably factually correct. It was dusty. I had a stone in my shoe. It was bugging me but the tiny, crowded alley with all the people hustling along, deterred me from attempting to stop and take off my shoe to get rid of the stone. I would have caused a human traffic jam. I carried on. I could smell onions and garlic. It was noisy. People were shouting to be heard above the noise.

In front of me was a girl. I knew she was pretty but I hadn’t seen her face. It was odd. Just one of those dream things, where you know it doesn’t make sense but accept it anyway. So she was gorgeous. I was stuck behind her. I wanted to overtake her so I could confirm my suspicions as to her being beautiful. In a way I was ‘testing’ my dream. I knew I was dreaming and I recognized the fact that you can’t tell someone is gorgeous without having at least seen them front on. Anyway, I was trying to overtake her but it was impossible.

The alleyway was brightly lit by the sun. The walls were a peachy orange colour, some sort of sandstone. There were doorways on the left and the right. I was thinking about overtaking using a doorway as a bit of extra space but the girl was walking too quickly. I’d have risked bumping into her if I tried a reckless over-taking move.

Then, like in most dreams, the scene changed. I was in a bar. Well, a bar of sorts. I was sat on a long table. There must have been sixty people on the table. Next to me was the girl. She spoke perfect English. Everyone else was jabbering away in Arabic and I was just sitting there with a stone in my shoe looking at this girl. Just amazed at how pretty her eyes were. They were light brown and they sparkled like the sea at night under a full moon when she smiled.

She was wearing a red dress. It was long, it looked sort of traditional, almost Spanish in a way. Definitely not local Moroccan attire. Almost like a flamenco dress. But it was her eyes. They bore  straight into my soul and made me smile. Then suddenly I was on a bridge trying to take a photo of her. She was in her red dress, smiling at me and I was trying to figure out how to take the photo. It wasn’t my camera and I was struggling to figure out how to take the shot.

The dream changed again. I was in Hong Kong, next to the house that I used to rent. I was on the beach, sitting on the sand. I was barefoot and was pushing the wet sand between my toes. Scrunching it up and enjoying the feeling of the sand. She was sitting next to me. She had a map in her lap and was making busy making notes.

The dream gets a bit confused then. For a moment I was talking to a good friend of mine Heinz Stucke, a famous cyclist that has been travelling this planet since God was a boy. He is, quite possibly, the most travelled man in history. That is some claim. Anyway, he was sitting next to me talking about how best to annotate the map to show where you camped each night. And then he was gone and I was back with the mysterious girl in the red dress. She was so beautiful. I remember thinking that as I woke up. What a pretty girl…and that was it….the dream was over and I was in my bed, listening to the cats playing in the hallway, the sunlight streaming in through the window. Blinking my eyes trying to adjust to the bright morning light.

Dreams are superb. I just wish I could understand what it all meant.

Answers on a postcard please.

– Eduardo

Oh yes, sorry I went for a ride today. 3 hours, bumped into the Agritubel boys. Tore past them on a descent, reckon they think I must be mad. Judging by my dreams, perhaps I am. ☺ I have a 3 hour ride planned tomorrow, hopefully it’ll be sunny again. I love the weather here, it lifts your spirits like nothing else. Except possibley a good Mexican meal and a glass of Rioja.


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