Sunday, November 15, 2009


I do love dreams.

I’ll need to fill you in on the background first. The powers that be have decided that after seven and a half years of one wheelchair I need another one which would open me out further and ease the compression. It was explained that it would steer differently, rather like my very first wheelchair where if you pushed the joystick to the right the back wheels would spin to the left and vice versa. So that, at least, would be familiar but, otherwise, after spending seven and a half years looking at the one control panel I felt as if I would be leaving home. So here is the dream:

I am moving back across the road and find that the flat is larger, brighter and has more sophisticated accoutrements. I try and make contact with my neighbours but they are scarcely affable and the one I already know is not at home.

So my new home, alias wheelchair, is larger, more sophisticated with brighter prospects but I will need to get to know my neighbours, for example, there is no pommel and the arm rests are not appropriate.


  1. Perfect! Who knows better than the dreamer what the dream is about? Nobody.

  2. I have a friend who faced a choice between academic studies and exploring desert spirituality. He had a dream about Essendon in Victoria: Essenes (desert) and Don (academic don).
    Your wheelchair dream is similarly so apt.