The same dream since I was twenty-two

Why some dreams come back, and what usually has to happen before they stop.

Three of yours, all about hair

A plait that was not hers, a barber who would not stop, and grey overnight.

Somebody cut my hair while I was asleep

A light one this week, and the only question it really asks.

The folder was in the wrong drawer

One question to take to bed with you, and nothing else to do today.

I have stopped looking for the blue folder

Monday's search, turned forward, and the one you are allowed to call off.

He told me he has never had a dream

What happens when people are woken on purpose, and what to do if you come up empty.

Agnese is looking for a son who is not lost

He is twenty-seven and lives abroad. In the dream he is small.

I spent the night looking for my keys

The dream where you cannot find the thing, and what it is you are trying to reach.

What you sent

A fortnight of your dreams, one line each, and nothing from me.

The help is coming from somebody you have not met

Monday's stranger, turned forward, and how to be findable this week.

You are allowed to change the ending

The bad ones, and the one method that has proper evidence behind it.

Three strangers, three answers

A bus conductor, a woman at the door, and a boy who knew Bea's name.

He asked after my mother and I have never met him

The stranger in your dream who knows you, and how you knew him back.

The cupboard is empty and I keep opening it

One question to take to bed with you, and nothing else to do today.

I opened the cupboard under my actual stairs

What the house dream asks you to put down, and what it does not.

I have written the same landing down twice

What a fortnight of notes shows you that one morning never can.

Elena's kitchen has a door that should not be there

It will not stay open, and she has stopped trying to prop it.

I knew where the light switches were

A house you have never lived in, and the rooms you had forgotten about.

What you sent

Two weeks of your dreams, one line each, and nothing from me.

There is a bucket in my hall and no rain

What a week of rain dreams says is already on its way.

Awake, and unable to move

The switch that turns your muscles off, and the morning it is slow coming back.

Ilze opened the window herself

Three of your rain dreams, answered short, before the week gets going.

It rained indoors and nobody minded

Rain in a dream, and whether anybody had put a bowl down for you.

One question, then the weekend

Nothing to do today except take this one to bed with you.

You never put the bag down

Every chase dream I have had, I was carrying something.