• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 11
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Last night, I had a dream. I dreamt I rushed for the 8.13 am train from Orpington to Charing Cross, just caught it by the skin of my teeth, stood all the way supported by the shoulders of suited strangers, got drenched running to the office in the pouring rain having forgotten my umbrella, got a snappy warning from Colin about not reaching this quarters’ targets, went out to Slice of Life at lunchtime for a BLT srnie, got nudged by Pamela Whatsername at around 4 o’clock for ‘extreme yawning’ as she calls it, dashed to Charing Cross, just caught the 17.34, stood up again all the way to Orpington and got home just in time to say night night to the twins.

Then I woke up.

I have always been awestruck by the capacity of dreams to dip onto the world of tooth fairies, the supernatural, the unexpected, the fantastic, the realms beyond imagination. But today, I am so thrilled and dumbfounded, I can’t tell you.