Enrico Bacciardi

 

 

 

    I was in a dark, huge building: a dusty, rusty environment crowded by silent, miserable looking people. Very high roof, and 'naked cement' on the wall. I mean: no paint, just like in buildings that are not finished yet.

 Some friends were with me, and we were waiting on queue. My turn: I was in front of a desk, and an officier gave me a form to fill (I don't remember this officier's face, his mood or how he dressed; but he was a male, and he didn't care about me or the world around him).

 I had to fill the form with my name, surname and so on. I was scared since I was not understanding what I was supposed to do, and why I had to fill the form; so I put random letters in and I gave back the form to the officer. He had a look at the form, ignoring me,  and gave me a plastic yellowish paper.

 

 I join my friends and asked them what the fuck we were doing there; they told me that all the people in the building were immigrants, and that we were applying as lawyers to earn money; our purpose was economic: we knew that immigrants need lawyers for legal troubles they automatically get into landing in our country (the nation was... I don't know. Probably doesn't matter).

 So basically we wanted to do a good job for the money, not for humanitarian reasons.

 

 But I failed to fill my form, writing down random letters; so I didn't apply as lawyer: the yellowish paper they gave me was my identity card as immigrant. Immigrants and lawyers were gathered in the same queue, and your future -lawyer or immigrant- relied on the same application form.

 I was not disappointed nor uneasy. I simply left my friends and I went out from the building. I crossed a bridge, it was night. The bridge was very high but not large; it was probably a footbridge since no cars were there. Suddendy I found myself into a city. Not Hong Kong. It looked like the center of a european city, with old buildings and narrow streets.

 

 I saw a whore, and she asked me money for sex. Her face was nice, with dark hairs and freckles. I realized she was not standing up; she was on a wheelchair, her legs were too much thin; her voice was flickering, and her eyes half opened; her voice was the voice of a drunken or stoned person. I said no, and went away. She raised from the wheelchair trying to follow me, but her weak legs could not help her so much, she barely could stand up. And she gave up.

 While I was getting away, I saw another client approaching.

 I  realized her voice was sad, and sadness lied behind her words and attitude:  she was miserable, and despite her profession and the drugs she used, she was just searching for a worm place to lie in; I changed my mind and I decided to come back and agree with her deal; (her sadness was the key: her sadness make her astonishing  charming and interesting)

 

 I came back, trying to find her, but I was lost and I could not find where she was. So I entered in a mansion (I was sure I could find her there) and I opened the door of flat. I went into the empty flat. The forniture inside looked like '70s style, with old armchairs, pale wallpaper and moquette on the floor.

 

 I heard someone approaching, and I realized I was an intruder, or a thief. So I run away... but on the stairs of the mansion I met a friend of mine: he was the landlord of the flat. He said to me: "Stop entering in my house without my permission!".

 

 

 

 

 I woke up amazed by this dream. I'm still workin' on it.

 [foto CC-by-nc-sa: eflon]