I woke up yesterday morning in the middle of a dream. I normally have weird, convoluted dreams, past present and future (seemingly) all mixed up together. People I’ve known from one place sitting alongside those I’ve met from somewhere else. On the weekends when I can remember them, I usually recount them for the amusement of Michelle.

Anyway, yesterday I awoke in the middle of a dream. Clear as a bell. I woke up because it was late and my morning ritual was way behind and I had to do some serious running about to catch up. But the dream persisted in my head. When I had a minute to sit down I started to unravel what I could of it. In fact there wasn’t much of it that I could remember. Just the last couple of seconds. Kent Steedman walked into my dream and appeared to be about to say something. Then. Awake.

I’ve spent the last 24 hours thinking about it.

I haven’t seen or heard anything from Kent since about 1994. Now if you asked Kent about me I’m not sure he would even remember who I was. But for me, the encounters I had with him have always held some weird significance, just the fact that I can remember them clearly says something considering the times. I remember the first question he asked me because it was so pointed, so direct – it took me momentarily out of myself. A brief moment in time, very clear, but fleeting.

So why now? I can’t help but attach some significance. I did a quick Google, and there wouldn’t you know it: January 13th, Kent Steedman and The Tubular Greens playing live in Santander, Spain. The next piece. I have a great friend living in Spain, Santander in fact. Another enchanted being.

Inexplicably entwined? Perhaps. Maybe they just crossed paths and the only common thread was me. Who knows?