dreams

when i was young i used to worry about characters from books, as if they existed in the real world. harriet used to explain to me that they didn't actually exist. i would sometimes refer to them, things they said, things they did, as if talking of a close friend. this infuriated her, but there was little to no thing that i could do about it.

i have grown out of that now (externally, i still care and wonder) and now it's moved on to mixing dreams with reality. don't get me wrong, i do not think of myself as Stephane Miroux or anything, but sometimes during waking i say "oh god, like that time i x" - thinking it is real. sometimes i can live in this lie for a while, thinking it really happened. it can be days until i can realise that it was a dream.

today, this happened. it only took half a day for the penny to sink, but this morning i asked my mother when we were going to pick up the motorbike. as usual, she wasn't listening, so my dream/reality was still real. however, this afternoon, i asked again. she was confused. i said, "the red motorbike, in the shed. we have to get it", puzzled, she asked who's motorbike it was. that's when i stopped and realised it was a dream, as the image of the bike crumbled in my minds eye, as my dreams do whenever i remember them (literally).