Bridge 346

Posted on 25-09-2024 | Last edited on 25-09-2024

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Bridge 346.
That’s where I hid it.
Under the bridge.
One of those leather briefcases they put money in, in the movies.
Except this one doesn’t contain money.
I don’t know why they called it that, why 346?
All other bridges in the area are named after people.
Did they run out of people?
I would just have made up a new person.
There’s dreams in this one.
Hopes and dreams.
I can’t remember why I hid them.
Or why I chose that bridge.
I suppose I feared them being known.
My dreams, that is.

It is said that you’re not gone while your name is still spoken.
But what if no-one knew your name to begin with?
Is that what I have once more become?
Once flesh, now barely thought.
My dreams adrift under the bridge.
Naught but waning reflections.
Caught in unseen gyres.
Dragged out of potential futures.
Back into the depths of non-existence.
Before those dreams called I were realised.
The briefcase disappears below the surface.
And just like that
I fade.

But the dreams go on
What are dreams anyway?
in the river’s bowels.
They are real.
Parts of them seep out,
I know that much.
floating up into reflections.
As real as the bridge’s bricks.
Others look upon them
Or the river’s water.
and are named anew.
The question is, was I?