THE FIRST TIME I came to, I was in China. I am not sure where I was, but it might have been in a public park. It might have been in Beijing. I don’t remember. I barely knew who I was, but I was aware that I was an older Chinese man. Other people were working around me. They were sweeping something up, or raking. Moving things around. I could only see blurry shadows moving around. I could smell the smells of China. Those damp, steamed, pungent smells. I was sitting there, meditating, but not really meditating. Then I was out of there. Out of China?
But where had I been anyway?
The second time I came to, I was in a car. I was in a northern city, traveling in an industrial part of the town. I could see the transmission towers glistening like giant metal Christmas trees, and beneath them were real Christmas trees. Snow was piled up on both sides of the road, and the car zoomed forward. There were two women in the car. One of them was older and she had long dark hair. She sat in the passenger’s seat in the front, and the younger woman, who also had long dark hair was at the wheel. They were listening to Yoko Ono sing “Kiss Kiss Kiss” off the 1980 album Double Fantasy. We drove on, to where I don’t remember.
The third time I came to, the car pulled up alongside Sigrún’s house on the outskirts of town. It was summer again and warm. Sigrún was there in the kitchen. She offered me some water and some berries and after that, we went to bed. She really did look just like Mother Denmark and I didn’t take off my shirt. My shirt was soaked by the end of that, and Sigrún’s legs were up in the air. It felt good to kiss Sigrún. Her skin was covered in freckles and her eyes were blue.
Then it all faded away, and a new cycle started.
north! 