Red Dust

When you dreamily walk into unexpected places

As a child I was very dreamy. There would be times when, even though I was going on a very mundane business, like buying bread, that airy me took over and led the way to places I wouldn't expect. The streets were familiar and I knew all the buildings and the corners, but then in a moment of trance the scenery changed without my permission or my awareness, and I was somewhere else. Usually these little trips were of no consequence. I would just wake on streets I hadn't been on before, but that were just around the corner from the places I knew so well. I was twelve I think.

That day the greenery on the little street drew my eye immediately. I had wandered to unknown streets. It was a particularly still day, it might have been in the middle of the week when everyone is busy somewhere inside. It might have been summer. Streets are always empty in summer.

There was an iron door behind the vines at the end of the street. A simple affair with no ornaments. I looked beyond and had the impression there was a kind of patio there, but the verdure obscured my view. It seemed to belong to one of the houses around it and at the same time it had the look of a little public square. I could hear no sounds and decided it must be empty. There was an unusual latch that kept the entrance shut, very crude really, but so new to me that I felt an instant desire to touch it. It had a dull roughness and I pressed it down.

I closed the gate behind me trying not to make any noise and when I turned I was instantly dizzy. A red cobblestone square, spread around me in all directions. I should have been able to see something in the distance. But here there was nothing. No square that I knew of was that big. I had a moment of panic and had there been anything suitable nearby I would have hid behind it. I was in the open, too visible in the emptiness and I felt watched. The little patio I had expected had turned into a monstrous expanse. There weren't any of the buildings I had seen from the outside or the trees or the rest of the city for that matter. It was unnatural because I’d seen how small streets were in that area and how packed with human habitation. But there was nowhere to get lost as long as I kept the gate in sight, I thought, trying to convince myself, to keep panic at bay. I would only advance a few steps.

There was a lot of red dust everywhere as if the stones had been slowly ground by the steps of a million people. The thought of so many feet made me take a deep breath to reassure myself I could still inhale, exhale, exist.

I looked back not knowing what to do, not following my curiosity or going forward presented themselves as equally dangerous, and only then discovered that a stone bench was built to the left of the gate and was shaded by the same vines that had attracted my attention earlier.

From the shade the view was sharper, more detailed and in the distance I saw the dust being swept this way and that by some wind that only existed in that uncertain far region. Then it got slower and it formed shapes that resembled the fancies of the clouds; birds, and ships, and cars, then whales, and giants, and kites.

My hands felt so swollen that I imagined balloons instead of them. I looked down for a second to check if they were really that big. They weren't, but they didn't seem my own either. I was thirsty and wanted to leave and couldn't.

When I lifted my eyes I saw a figure in the distance. Its steps made the red dust dance and terrified me. I wanted to jump up and bolt out the gate, but moving proved impossible, my body had become heavy like led and it needed time to consider all its gestures, but I didn’t have time. Behind the figure, inflated and grotesque, the shapes continued to form. As it neared I noticed iron buttons, and polished boots, shinny despite the fine powder everywhere.

I was thinking frantically about an explanation for when he arrived and then all of a sudden he did.

"It's a beautifully hot day, don't you think?"

"Yes," I said because politeness was apparently stronger than panic and because he didn't seem very ominous up close, but rather goofy, with his navy blue military jacket and red neckerchief.

He sat down on the bench beside me at a respectful distance like old men do sometimes because they don't want to intrude into your personal space with their wasting bodies.

"You've never been here before, have you?"

"No, I saw the gate and I thought the square was pretty and I was curious. Is it ok?"

"Oh, yes. If you are curious you should always walk into it. Curiosity is a wonderful thing to have. Are you curious often?"

"I think so. I like to discover new things. But sometimes I’m afraid."

"Well, you weren't today. And for someone so slight as yourself that is a big deal. This is a good place to explore."

"It is?"

"A scary place also and you should be careful, but not too much. Look at the red dust there in the distance, see how inviting that is? It knows you’re here and it is making the shapes you have brought with you. Look at that ship flying high," he pointed somewhere in the distance.

I saw it then and it was magnificent and faintly familiar, as if from a dream I had had a long time before. Looking at it the breathing that seemed to get stuck in my throat came more easily and I smiled.

"You know what you should do? Go to see the piazza."

"Piazza?"

"If you go straight ahead until you can't see the entrance and the bench anymore you get to the end of this square and down below there is a piazza with lots of people and cafes. You'll like it."

"Maybe next time", I said quickly.

"Yes, yes there is no rush, whenever you decide."

"Why is it so empty?" I asked

"It's a holiday today. Everyone is either in the piazza or somewhere else celebrating."

"What kind of holiday?"

"Of colour, or flowers, we are not really sure, but we keep it nonetheless."

"Are you celebrating too?"

"Sure, sure, I was just going to get some milk, we seem to have run out. Speaking of which, I should probably go or else I'll be too late and my old lady won't like it. She prefers me punctual and efficient." He laughed. Then got up and made the slightest bow to me.

"It was a pleasure to talk to you. Come again."

I nodded a little and then he turned and walked out the gate. I looked back at the square and the red dust rose again and made a myriad shapes that now seemed indeed to come from my mind. The polar bear at the circus, the two-headed deer from the stories of my childhood, ominous birds that appeared black even when made of fine, airy, red powder. 

Then as I was examining these apparitions I realized there was a gurgling somewhere to my left, hidden by the greenery. When I turned my head the leg of the fountain surprised me with its wispiness, it was more like a flower stem than anything else. There was more shade there as well and the air reaching me smelled fragrant of leaves and wet stone and the sun played through the leaves of the tree growing high behind the vines. The bowl the leg morphed into was tilted to one side and water came down in a thin curtain and it looked so clean, so fresh, so inviting. So I got up and left. I remembered very well the story of Persephone and the pomegranate seeds, and getting stuck there was too inviting and that terrified and excited me both.

Once outside I had to sit down on the curb. It was so good to be in a familiar place again. I was so thirsty, but felt light and I looked again at my swollen hands to see if they still hadn't become balloons.

It took me some days before I could go back and the first two times I just entered and stood there, hand on the gate ready to run. The red dust was always present, always dancing. Slowly, as I let it become a familiar place, I went in and sat down on the bench and talked to the red dust. Not out loud, that would have been weird. I pictured things to see if it was true, if it understood. It did and took the shapes I came up with and added new elements to them, unexpected ones, always delightful. I giggled a lot under my hand and as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to attract attention.

No one else came. So after a while I decided to go and see if the piazza was indeed there. The thought plopped like a rock in my stomach, and I wondered if I’d be nauseous and forced to run out, but curiosity said it could carry it.

The walk didn't take as long as I expected and I looked behind me every few minutes to see if the bench and the gate were still there. There wasn't much to see around me. In the distance, on either side, there were trees sometimes, sprouting from between the reddish cobblestones.

When I reached a point from where the entrance could not be seen anymore I realised the square was moving upwards, I had been climbing incrementally all the way, but now the slope was much more pronounced. After a few more minutes I got to a place where the square split in three, the middle part going ever upwards and the sides going down. I kept advancing up since that seemed somehow the safest and I reached a plateau. On either side the paving stones had turned into stairs that led to the piazza. At the edge of the rock I was on, that's what it looked like to me, a cliff perhaps, there was a simple stone railing. As I approached it, the piazza opened up below me, and it was magnificent, huge, with buildings on three sides, little fountains spread around in an inviting disarray, spritzing cool water, each one under a huge tree. There were cafes and bikes and more vegetation and benches to rest. There was so much sun, but of a different nature, more transparent, not as oppressive as the one above me. There were other things in the distance, I should have been high enough to see, but they were hard to focus on and to distinguish, so I didn't try.

I heard voices clearly, and I shouldn't have because I was too far away. A girl's voice stood out. "This is so funny. I don't know why I did it. I never skip classes. It's so unlike me." I heard the smile in her voice, the excitement. Then I saw her, all the way down there, she was so distinctly dressed in a red shirt. In front of her, a man with his back to me, was smiling too. I have no idea how I knew, but I did. And then it became so obvious. That was me. A future me? A possible me? Emotions filled me to the tip of my fingers and they weren't mine, but hers, this other me that I wasn't yet, that I might be. They were muddled and so intense, crushing, too big for me, and suddenly there was a foul taste in my mouth and I had no air. I turned around and I ran. All the way to the gate, and out, and away.

The place still calls to me but I never walk past it. I try not to tempt myself. The memory of it is fading, and I try to keep the most important part of it, the part that will keep me safe, the street it was on, so I can avoid it.