Today’s new moon has brought graphic dreams. Last night was about a little boy – maybe five or six. But it could also have been a little girl with a puddiing-basin haircut, as I used to have as a child. He was being returned. He or she had taken a long journey to be somewhere, or attend something but was being returned. On a ship. A huge ship. There were two adults who were attending him or her on their return journey. I watched this little child, who wasn’t at all distressed about being sent back, as it stopped at one of the bookshops on board to look at a display of picture books. I woke then, not wanting to. The journey, the adults had told him would take seven months.
