perhance to dream

I had a bad dream last night. It woke me up, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Not that it was a ‘bad’ dream, you can write that with dripping blood if you’d prefer, full of death, and night, and more blood, and a bit of bodice rippage where somehow someone has terraformed my breasts into worthy of the cover of a harliquin romance. No, not like that at all.

I’m in a cafe, somewhere towards the back. You know, the cafe where the counter and bar is half way to the front, and you have to walk past the kitchen and the toilets and there’s a room at the back. I guess it would have been a men’s smoking room, or for gambling at some point in the past. Well, I’m back there. And I have this software problem.

And a woman from the front offers to help. She’s somewhat larger than me, and a bit taller, with dark straight hair and a round face. She talking and I talk, and without knowing what we were saying, I realize that she knows nothing new. I thank her and leave. But not before she hands me the bill. Consulting fees.