Extract from a compendium of advice given in dreams

Sunday. Two small objects in a thin khaki bag. The grandmother or grandfather is to talk about them.

Tuesday. Someone had painted the clockface, dividing it into twenty-minute intervals.

Wednesday. There is no other house on the land.

Monday. Complete destruction. When I asked him why he did it, he said ‘I was outvoted’.

Thursday. I am climbing a mountainside steep as the Shard. I have to bivouac to rest. When I finally resolve to do the last bit, it turns out to be easy, practically flat. Obvious.

Wednesday. D will find a way to make it work, he won’t give up on it.

Friday. Eileen can’t believe how badly I’m driving.

Saturday. Colour is the meaning of life.

Friday. It was only the trick known to every teenager – a bedspread thrown on top of a pullulating heap.

Sunday. Wooden stairs decorated, treads and risers, with pale pink foliage. Découpage.