Irish dreams at last

Here’s the surest sign yet that I’ve settled down in Ireland: I dreamt that I was in Ireland.

You know that you’ve become fluent in French when you start dreaming in French. Well, my dreams this morning were based on more or less the same principle. In one dream I was wandering around the centre of Belfast, down Donegall Street, near the Belfast Telegraph offices, to be precise.

In the other, I was on a bus, a Bristol RE, the kind that were seen on Belfast’s streets from about 1977 to the early 2000s. I was directing the driver up Church Street in Downpatrick, up past the church, past the telephone exchange, to where we were to pick up a crowd of friends.

So, they’re not really remarkable dreams. In fact they’re quite boring, but it shows that not only is my body in Ireland but my soul is too.

That reminds me, I haven’t been on for a while. Must check up and see how they’re doing.

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