Michael

I dreamt I had a baby. It was a boy and he was called Michael. I loved Michael with every fibre of my being, more than I ever thought possible.

Micheal was actually a prawn. He lived in a bowl filled with lettuce and cucumber. Michael traveled with me through my dreams, he swam intact across the damask from one dream to the next.

In one dream, I was getting riotously drunk in a bar. This was possibly a veiled reference to the fact that I spent the evening preceding the dream getting riotously drunk in (and dancing on) a bar. Suddenly I didn’t know where Michael was, and in a panic I asked the barman if he had seen Michael. The barman reminded me that I had asked him to look after baby Michael for me. He reached down underneath the bar and pulled out the salad bowl, and in it was Michael swaddled in lettuce and soundly sleeping.

In another, I was in a negotiating some kind of shady domestic environment, when suddenly remembered that I had put baby Michael in the fridge where he would be out of harm’s way. To my shock, when I opened the fridge to check on Michael he was unmoving and stone cold! I carefully stroked his transclucent pink-grey back (for he was a raw prawn) and to my great relief he moved. Needless to say I took him out of the fridge.