I had a dream a few years ago. It sticks to me, like a strange glue.
It was real, as real as dreams get. Not just a dream, but as if, it was real, whilst obviously being a dream.
The dream is quite simple
I’m walking down Milsom Street in Bath, it’s a nice day.
I’m walking down the street and i pass by an old bloke who, for the life of me, looks like Samuel Beckett.
I know he’s not Samuel Beckett, because he just died the other day. As we passed, I say
“what are you doing here?”
and he says
“I have unfinished business’
we smile, and go on our ways.
reflecting, i wonder why I never looked back to see where he was walking.
(1992)
