recurring dreamscapes

there are places that show up in dreams over and over again. i fly down the A376 and float above the rooftops of the magnolia centre. away from the people, i feel safe. there's my childhood home, where i eternally escape some form of trouble or another. there's my friend's childhood home, the hallways of which shrink about my body until i'm claustrophobic. the grand union canal where i used to go running in my late teens feels like treacle under my feet. the stockrooms of the multitude of shit jobs i worked in the service industry amalgamate in infinite combinations. a pirairie i've never been to sits wide and inviting under a sky that opens up to an incomprehensibly dense velvet vista of nebulae and slow exploding novae. it is like nothing i have seen awake. i find myself on the side of a barren mountain, i think in northern china or on the korean peninsula, where i am running from someone. my body is not entirely my own there. wood and metal augment me. i do not feel the cold. these places are joined by nothing i am conscious of other than their recurrance. these places are joined by nothing i am conscious of other than their recurrance. these places are joined by nothing i am conscious of other than their recurrance.