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Last night I had an odd dream...it's amazing how the mind is able to take photographs you've seen and words you've read and create a world you've never experienced.
So anyway, last night I was transported to late nineteenth/early 20 century St. Louis. The picture in my mind's eye was tea-stained, just like an old photo. As I walked dirt covered downtown streets I became aware of the fact that these are the same streets I walk everyday, but they're different. Buildings of all shapes and sizes hug the sidewalk, there are no gaps from demolition in the streetscape...an unbroken line of buildings extends to the horizon forming man-made canyons. The only empty lot I came across was next to the American theater, in front of the Old Post Office. According to my dream, that lot has always been empty and used for parking.
There were lots of people on the streets, but trash was everywhere. The downtown of my dreams wasn't as clean as the real thing. I didn't know if the trash problem, cigarette butts and paper, was worse because there were so many people around or if there was just no one around to clean it.
In my dream it was night, and hundreds of feet above my head a powerful light cut into the clouds which were illuminated by the city lights below. The beam originated from a spotlight that was perched on top of a spire that graced St. Louis's version of the Empire State Building. The design was similar, but with the fog that consciousness brings, I can't remember the differences or details.
I had to get a job, and I started working in a building similar to what's now the Ely Walker building. The job was mundane. A group of us sat at a large table with a pile of 6 inch strings in front of us, each pile of string a different color. Our job was to take the string and twist it together to form yarn. I remember thinking that there has to be an easier, more mechanical way to do this, but was told to get back to work.
The St. Louis I visited last night was a combination of the St. Louis that was I the St. Louis I wish we could be.
So anyway, last night I was transported to late nineteenth/early 20 century St. Louis. The picture in my mind's eye was tea-stained, just like an old photo. As I walked dirt covered downtown streets I became aware of the fact that these are the same streets I walk everyday, but they're different. Buildings of all shapes and sizes hug the sidewalk, there are no gaps from demolition in the streetscape...an unbroken line of buildings extends to the horizon forming man-made canyons. The only empty lot I came across was next to the American theater, in front of the Old Post Office. According to my dream, that lot has always been empty and used for parking.
There were lots of people on the streets, but trash was everywhere. The downtown of my dreams wasn't as clean as the real thing. I didn't know if the trash problem, cigarette butts and paper, was worse because there were so many people around or if there was just no one around to clean it.
In my dream it was night, and hundreds of feet above my head a powerful light cut into the clouds which were illuminated by the city lights below. The beam originated from a spotlight that was perched on top of a spire that graced St. Louis's version of the Empire State Building. The design was similar, but with the fog that consciousness brings, I can't remember the differences or details.
I had to get a job, and I started working in a building similar to what's now the Ely Walker building. The job was mundane. A group of us sat at a large table with a pile of 6 inch strings in front of us, each pile of string a different color. Our job was to take the string and twist it together to form yarn. I remember thinking that there has to be an easier, more mechanical way to do this, but was told to get back to work.
The St. Louis I visited last night was a combination of the St. Louis that was I the St. Louis I wish we could be.
2 comments:
wait wait, dont tell me! the part you want to be is the yarn twisting part, right? j/k. sometimes i really think the city was like that too
By
Dusty, at
12:54 PM
That is a sweet dream. Its sad when you think about what we have lost, but I think we're on the right track.