Dream #85

I can't remember the last time a dream ended on a happy note.

No one was lost.

No one needed help.

No one tried to cheat me.

Everyone I met was convivial.

Now the last time I ran down Fore St., was 25 years ago – holding the reins of my toddler and singing "running down the road with daddy" as he tipped over laughing to fly like an aeroplane.

It was fun, but like many fun things, the consequences were rather painful, and for the next week my left knee was the size of a melon.

In my dream however, I ran down the hill without a care, carrying a fresh loaf of bread and a lump of slate.

The slate had a reason to be carried that only it knew.

Drops of water fell from the sky – the tide  was over the quay, and my way home was impassible.

However, miraculously, a young man appeared, and guided me through some back alleys to where I could see my house, high and dry, waiting for me.

The pleasure, and relief, was so great