Dreamt: 14.7.07

The child walked steadily, unamused. His hand in mine, he could have been a grown man. But then, we spied a river and trees that looked like pictures.

“Look!” he cried, and his hand slipped from mine. Tottering forward, I could merely watch as he drew closer to the swampy bank of the river, it’s foul smell rising like steam- I could almost see it.

The boy looked back at me over his shoulder, squishing up his cheeks like playdough.

I blinked, and he was gone.

The obsessive woman beside me stopped breathing and chanted “He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.”

But then he emerged, from the watery muck, pushing himself upwards like a ruddy little soldier. I went to him. He sat, distanced, unperturbed, on the edge of the river, his eyes as unstaring as a fishes’ and his skin waxy and grey.

Quite suddenly, and with unexexpected vigour, he leant over and stroked my hair, and said “I have no need of anyone anymore.” When he leant back I put my hand to my head and was not very surprised to find that I no longer had hair, but scales, lined up like little smooth jewels across my scalp.