ta Pogo, and here's another one for you.

I had a close friend in the 80s who was a drama therapist from Chile, very handsome, very gay. He did some amazing work with disabled people in Australia, and was a pioneer of getting people off medication and into their life and creativity. His name was Aldo Gennaro, a documentary was made about his work (Stepping Out) including putting an an opera at the Opera House with people who have Downs syndrome.

For a while I was lucky enough to work with Aldo as his assistant, it was an incredible experience working with someone like him. He had a form of autism, and had gone into a Catholic monastery in Chile which offered a silent lifestyle. Aldo grew and changed and left the order, and came to Australia and worked with a range of disadvantaged or disabled people.

Anyway, one morning I woke up after a strange dream. I had dreamt I visited Aldo at his flat in Ashfield. Now Aldo's place was beautiful, walls painted white , beautiful paintings (by Aldo) and a large wall hanging on one wall. But in the dream, it had been stripped of all possessions, the walls were painted a sort of peach/pink colour, and there was nothing in there except for a dark purple scarf on the floor.

I went to work and phoned Aldo at his flat off and on during the morning, just to check in. At midday, another friend of his answered the phone. She was minding Aldo's flat - he was in hospital, at St Vincent's, seriously ill with a life threatening condition.

I went to visit him in hospital that afternoon. He was in a small, bare hospital room, painted a peach/pink colour, and he had tied a dark purple scarf tied on his bed head.

If I hadn't had that dream, I wouldnt have been alerted to his illness, and would not have been able to spend time with him before he died.

freda