I Dreamed

The other night I dreamt I was in London.

It was late afternoon, the rays of sun still touching some parts. I don't know what season it was; it was chilly but not cold.

I was elated. I skipped through the streets. I knew it was London. I just knew it deep inside.

And after I just knew, I noticed billboards for West End plays: Wicked, Les Miz, etc.

"Yes, this is London!" I thought.

There were people with me, around me, but I didn't notice their faces. I was too happy.

But it was not quite London.
It was far more industrial, far more direlict, far less crowded. It had old brick warehouses, rusty faded signs, moss and dirt on walls and pipes. It looked as if most people had abandoned the city and left it to run down for years. It was Manchester, really.

I didn't notice I wasn't really in London until I woke up. But then again, I wasn't really in any place, was I?