I relate to you now o'brother a dream I had on the Caledonian sleeper train as I shuttled through the night, from London to Inverness. Having made rather too free with the wine in the club lounge, I retired to my bunk in a bilious sort of way. The swaying of the carriage was not the sort of lullaby to soothe babies to sleep, but rather the kind to keep a man awake in spite of his bodily protestations. Towards dawn I descended to the lower berth where the swaying seemed less violent. I was then able to get some shut-eye and dreamed the dream you are about to read.
I was holidaying in Spain with my wife and daughter, visiting, as in customary in my dreams, a rundown Sea World and zoo. The zoo section was nothing out of the ordinary, I remember seeing elephants and giraffes. The Arctic zone however, was a different story. Tight, outdoor pools were home to marine mammals such as dolphins and porpoises, locked into endless revolutions of their confined space. Rock formations formed a backdrop to their tanks, offering the illusion that they were in a natural environment. Indeed, the resort was on the coast but did not communicate with the sea. A larger tank was empty, and I was disappointed to learn that the killer whales it formerly held were gone.
Some signs read that until recently there were a total of 36 killer whales at Sea World many of them in ocean pens. They had all been killed following PETA legislation that announced these marine centres were no longer allowed to hold them. I am all for animal rights, so was disturbed to learn of their fate, and also guiltily irked that I was still yet to see a real life killer whale. The true horror of the zoo was yet to reveal itself, but I did not have long to wait.
Further into the marine zone, I saw bizarre enclosures for wolves and hyenas. The animals lay on their sides, with their paws hanging over the edges of the glass walls. I shepherded my wife and daughter past these enclosures, worried that the barriers were too low and incidents might occur. Round the bend we encountered a tank holding polar bears, and what a sorry lot they were.
The bears, if they can be called such, were almost wholly devoid of hair. It was more like patchy fuzz, with large bald spots and the unmistakable onset of advanced mange. Lulu had never seen polar bears before, and she had trouble recognising them as such. They lounged around on rocks, packed in tightly, eight or nine of them. They were also stunted in growth, perhaps only half the size they should have been. Their faces were ugly and mutated, as though inbred. One of them had a grey, crusty growth on its ear. Another had a snaggle tooth, a single fang that jutted up over his undershot lower jaw.
I ushered the family on where we reached a cul-de-sac of smaller tanks, all cloistered together on top of one another like the fish tanks of a pet shop. There was a large praying mantis strapped to a wooden panel. A small tank filled with gannets zooming back and forth, all glassy eyed. There were also many types of fish and sea creatures. Interactive panels interspersed these tanks, and Lulu began playing with them. The close combination of ill-suited fauna and scary animals made me feel queasy, so I expressed a desire to leave. As I escaped the hellish zone, I almost fainted.
Outside the marine centre was a large, plasterboard killer whale statue which some teenagers were climbing to take selfies. It was late afternoon now and people were leaving. Lulu wanted me to take a photo of her climbing on the killer whale. The dilapidated state of the sea world hit home most strongly here, with the peeling paint and forlorn welcome sign. Whilst I snapped photos of Lulu, my wife was engaged in conversation with the group of teenagers. I was eager for us to be on our way, but the teens took an interest in us.
One of them, a dumpy boy who, I'm sorry to say, looked as deformed as the polar bears, kept trying to hug us. He had a hanging lip, like a failed skin graft. After hugging Li, he came over to me, hugged me and moved in for a smooch. I flinched away in horror, but not before his mutant lip pressed itself to my cheek and he licked my face. I wiped the saliva away in revulsion.
We now had a long journey to our hotel, with no public transport available. The road along the coast was long and dusty, with a storm on the horizon. We were able to hitch a lift on a trailer being dragged by a Spanish peasant on a bike. He was on his way to a small historic town which lay between Sea World and our destination. When we reached the town, we bid the peasant farewell and Li told me we would take shelter at a pilgrim haven.
The pilgrim haven was nothing more than a sort of clay barn hosted by kindly religious souls to offer travellers relief and shelter. We had apparently stayed at one before the last time we were in Spain. I had no clue what was going on, but Li secured us space at one of these hovels, the floor of which was covered in straw. Our hosts were a kind Spanish lady called Celia, and her husband Jesus, a skinny vegan man with a black goatee. They had a toddler called Bonnie, who tried to play with Lulu.
Soon nough, the storm hit, and the sky turn dark. We nestled in the hovel as lightning crackled and rain pounded on the roof. Li chatted to Celia as I wondered how we were to get back to our hotel. The idea of these pilgrim havens were for women travelling alone to have safe spaces to retire to, and also to give birth in if required. I couldn't help but feel creeped out by the whole thing, despite the kindness of our hosts. As I sat in the straw, I noticed an enormous pus filled blister covering most of my ankle and debated whether or not to burst it.
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