I woke at 12.30am from a dream which featured one our neighboursfrom across the estate. We don’t know him very well but have, as you do, ‘passed the time of day’. In the dream he was in our home (though it was a home that was unrecognisable to me) and telling me about that fact that they always eat gluten-free bread. Where such inconsequential stuff comes from I don’t know. He also proceeeded to show me something that he had baked. It was wrapped up in tin foil and looked a little sunken – a bit like a kind of eggy-covered bread. Why my subconscious had decided to get him to show me, of all people, what he’d cooked, I don’t know. Is it all those coffee shop conversations about cooking that sparked it? After the dietary revelations, the neighbour pulled out a hat from his pocket. Would you like to touch my beaver hat? he asked. I think I yielded out of politeness but all I could think about was that someone had killed a beaver and made a hat from their fur and how appalling that was. I’d begun to climb the stairs while he was stood in the stairwell. What part of Norway do you come from? I called down to him. I’m not from Norway, he said, I think I’m Swedish. It was only when I woke that I realised the difficulty with which I’d been climbing the stairs. I was pulling myself up, dragging my legs. It was a herculean effort. Now there’s a metaphor for this current time ….
