I began my journey in Carey's Lane, an old street in the centre of Bristol, U.K. (It was destroyed in a fit of "urban renewal").
In conversation with me were two United Church of Christ Ministers, the Revd. J. Mary Luti and the Revd. Richard Floyd.
They steered me up towards Old Market Street, but as we passed the "Tatler Theatre" I found myself to be surrounded by a group of woman and men in gorgeous medieval type costumes.
They, in turn, steered me into the Tatler. There a gorgeous coach with horses awaited me. I mounted the coach. Trouble was, the two horses were facing towards, and not away from the coach.
On of the horses took my left lower arm into his/her jaws. I was not afraid, it seemed to be a friendly gesture. We paraded in a circle and reached the entrance of a great banqueting hall where I was supposed to eat. I saw my two older sisters.
But we never ate. For my entire family was transported to Eastville Park (a very nice park near where I was raised). We decided to walk the park's perimeter.
I said "I am so happy that each of my brothers and sisters are here". My oldest sister responded "Mum is also very pleased that your boy-friend is here. She is especially glad that he is taller than you".
We didn't walk the perimeter. For Mum steered us on to a moving walkway (such as you will find in many an airport). It was running in parallel with the overhead M32 motorway (which truly exists), and moving us towards Eastville Junction (Fishponds Rd, Stapleton Rd, Robertson Road) at about 30 mph.
Mum said, "when we get there the boys (my younger brothers) will be able to buy their Trojans".
I am not sure if they did, for I found myself walking the streets of a town in the Yemen. I was listening to BBC radio, with a story about an Anglican Priest who was running a free laundry in Yemen. I turned a corner, and there she was - a very fine looking 50 something woman, with salt and pepper hair. She was in an open courtyard, with just one (upscale) "Maytag" washing machine.
I promised to get some more to assist in her missions.
But I never did. For I found myself in Beirut, Lebanon where I had been appointed to be the Priest in Charge of the Anglican Church there. I was worrying about where I would live, and whether I would be able to learn the Arabic language.
My worries were un-warranted. I woke up, safe in my bed in Sarasota.
|The Tatler on Carey's Lane|
|Eastville Junction. In the centre of this photo' is the Eastville Methodist Church; where my parents were married; and where my twin and I were baptized in 1944|
|The M 32, an urban highway which ripped right through the blue collar/working class areas of east Bristol. When it was being built I believed that it represented "progress". These days I think of it as a ghastly urban highway.|
|All Saints Anglican Church, Beirut, Lebanon.|