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Dream Crusts

I keep a dream diary. Except it isn’t. I write down my dreams in my notebook, left on the bedside table every night. Except I don’t. A proper dream diary might contain musings on what the dreams mean, instead of great splurges about pastry and toasters and carpet samples (the first three subjects to leap out when I opened the document just now – I could give you the dates. They might mean something. I could cross reference with my ‘real diary’ to see what set my subconscious off. I’ve done none of these things). And writing down my dreams in my notebook ought to entail more than sitting on the cold porcelain of the loo at 3 in the morning writing with a pen that I later discover has no effing ink in it. And this is presuming that it’s worth writing down the dreams in the first place. The document is 24,575 words, and yet any word cloud created from it would undoubtedly lead with the words SCHOOL and NAKED and PASTRY.

Always the pastry.

Maybe that’s why it’s best not to change the ink in the fountain pen. Or ever read back the dream diary. Which I don’t. Until this. It’s as if I think that trapping their nibbed inkless echoes in my notebook and then transferring, at some later date, those impressions of impressions onto Word somehow robs them of their power to disturb me with their…

What is it with the pastry? It’s not even as if I like pastry. I’ve been through what I’ve been through in my life and my subconscious wants to reduce it all to pastry.

I keep a dream diary. Except it isn’t. It’s a downloads folder, the spiritual successor to timeshifting on a video recorder. It’s a means of capturing the stuff that might otherwise trouble my attention –

and then making bloody sure never to watch it back again ever.

Memo to self: Pick up a pie in the next weekly shop. Shortcrust is best.



Mike Hickman (@MikeHicWriter) is a writer from York, England. He has written for Off the Rock Productions (stage and audio), including a 2018 play about Groucho Marx. He has recently been published in EllipsisZine, the Blake-Jones Review, Bitchin’ Kitsch, the Cabinet of Heed, the Potato Soup Journal, and the Trouvaille Review. 

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