The Stuff of Dreams

I arrived back in Auckland last night knowing I had one day of talcum powder left.

How odd it is to

To take a shower and not worry about water getting in your mouth.
To take a shower! I’ve been bathing out of a bucket for weeks now.
To have the option of hot or cold water. I’ve just had to use what came out of the pipes, sometimes waiting for it to cool off before I could use it. Other times, cold was the only way to clean.
To dry off and not start sweating immediately.
To use a full size bottle of shampoo and a real hair brush, rather than the travel version.
To brush my teeth with tap water rather than remembering to take a bottle in with me.

To take clothing out of drawers or off of hangers rather than out of a suitcase.
To have a choice in which shoes to wear.

To drive down a road and see no litter piled everywhere.
To see grass meet the edge of sidewalks which are more or less intact, and are bordered again by grass to the roads’ edge. No dust blowing up as buses roar past.
To hear no horns honking.
To see almost every vehicle pulled by an engine rather than by animals or people.
To be in a crowd and not be pushed and jostled as everyone seeks their own advantage.
To hear people complain about traffic in a place where everyone stays in their lane and respects traffic signals.

To look at a menu and know I can eat anything on it, even the fresh vegetables.
To drink from a tap and not need to request bottled water and then checking the bottle to make sure the seal is intact.

To just pay the price on the tag without having to ask or barter.
To hear a phone ring and know I was expected to answer it.
To have keys again.

Over time, in a radical change of culture,
The familiar becomes the stuff of dreams,
and the stuff of dreams becomes familiar.