The Cenotaph:
Let me begin at the beginning.
A long time ago, I had a dream where I, as the invisible Dreamer/Protagonist, was in a museum in what I knew was modern South Africa. The museum was presided over by two young tour guides, male and female; both very blue-eyed, blonde; obviously of Dutch extraction. The foyer of the museum was very brightly lit, very white, with portraits hanging on the wall, red carpeting, a little lectern, or whatever for the male tour guide (who didn't look much older than eighteen) to stand at. I am not certain why I was supposed to be there, but I had the creeping, dawning realization that I was not allowed to leave Either the museum, South Africa, or this dream. But, regardless, the scene, in the way of dreams, shifted. Suddenly I seemed to be walking the cobbled streets of London; or, perhaps, some cobbled court, as I take it this was the modern world.
