A Southside Dream

I dreamt of Southside last night.
There was a shop near Abbey Crescent - maybe in a parade of shops. I am not sure what it sold but the interior of the shop as dark and almost old fashioned. Outside of the shop was a chair. I was talking outside of the shop to the woman who worked there, maybe even owned it. She was about my age but seemed older. She was stroking Tiger, our old cat who died nineteen years ago.
I left the shop and began walking North through the houses. I had the feeling I was not meant to be here - not as darkness fell. I wished I could stay. I was momentarily worried that I had left something behind, maybe my wallet - but, no - it was in my pocket. I was relieved. Perhaps this meant I could stay after all, and watch it get dark from Abbey Crescent itself? Dream-Southside had a slightly different geography to real Southside. I saw, across a road, a narrow mud path, leading upwards between houses and gardens. This reminded me of a childhood incident I had forgotten, where, as part of a childhood game, I gave a girl a ring that was an old ring pull from a can, or a spring from some mechanical device. As I walked on I saw that there was some kind of subway excavated beneath the houses; exposed brickwork and arches, like a waterless Victorian sewage system. There was a path that had once run through there but had now crumbled away. I was momentarily dismayed but looking closer I saw that a series of bridges now formed a point of access through this subway / excavation / tunnel.
I looked up. It was dark. A feeling of great triumph swept through me as I saw a line of street lamps lit under a night sky. I marvelled at the texture of the darkness, how different night was here in Southside.