AND IN THE MORNING

Last night in my dreams I found the most wonderful stuff on an indoor market stall; there was a set of dishes that fitted together, some kind of condiment or jam thingy. One of them opened like an oyster and had a kind of pop-up detail inside with little ducks and water lilies. I asked the price and was amazed at the £2.98 tag, so naturally I couldn’t wait to buy it. I’d taken a china teapot with a cane handle to use as a bag and had carefully placed it on the table so that everyone around could see that it was mine, that I’d arrived with it – I didn’t want it to get mixed up with the ornaments and ceramics for sale, but I thought I could always show them my money inside. It was gone.
‘Where’s my bag?’ I looked around at the man behind the table and two women browsing. ‘My teapot is missing.’ I felt ill thinking of the £200 I’d been carrying around since pay-day, but then remembered that I hadn’t brought it, only some cash, in the teapot. ‘How am I going to get home?’ No-one said anything or made any helpful suggestions.

I waited for a bus and jumped on the first one to come along, only just scraping the money for the fare from my pocket. So that was alright, till I thought of asking where exactly the bus went; it wasn’t going anywhere I wanted to go – not even through the city centre. It seemed the longer I stayed on the bus the farther I’d go into nowhere but I didn’t have the money for another bus ticket. I wondered about flashing the ticket I had and saying it was a day-tripper.

There is no satisfying ending to this and I have to inform you of the truth, do the Dallas thing – I woke up.