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TUESDAY, 4 AUGUST
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| Dear friend, |
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I read the replies before I make coffee, which is a bad habit, because on the mornings there are none I take it personally.
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Yesterday there were plenty, and three of them sat so close together that I am putting all three in front of you instead of picking one.
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The three of them will never meet, and the dreams are not the same dream, though they rhyme.
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I went back and read Deborah’s twice, with my hands still round the chipped blue mug my sister left here, before I saw why.
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Deborah, Nadia and Marcus
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Deborah opened a cupboard in her hall and found a whole room behind it, then woke before she went in. The dream is not really asking about the room, because it has already said the part that counts, that she knows the room is there.
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Nadia knows where her keys are too, and loses them anyway, in the same handbag, every few nights (a handbag I am told has a pocket for keys), finding them and losing them again before she reaches the door. Nothing in it wants to hurt her, so the bad feeling has to come from somewhere else, and I think it comes from being kept busy right up to the moment of leaving.
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Marcus does not get as far as leaving: he stands at a bus stop while buses go past with their lights on, and he never puts his hand out, because in the dream it is somehow not his stop yet.
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Nobody chases him, nobody chases Deborah, and Nadia’s handbag is only a handbag, so not one of these is a frightening dream, and that took me a while to notice, because I keep expecting the hard dreams to be the loud ones.
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I keep expecting the hard dreams to be the loud ones.
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