I
woke up at 4am after the weirdest dream I’ve had in a decade. I was on a train,
with Mathew, but he was a bit older – old enough to sit upright on my lap. I
was doing that ‘ride the horsey’ thing that people do with youngsters –
bouncing them on their knees while pretending they’re in the Grand National or
something. I gave him an extra special bounce, only to see him bounce all the
way up to the ceiling. It was only then I remembered that we were colonists on
the Moon, and that I hadn’t made allowances for the lesser gravity. The weird
bit was the detail – we were on a train because there had been a breach in the
protective hull surrounding our town, and we were being evacuated to our
nearest spaceport for transportation to another part of the lunar landscape.
The ship we were heading for would be piloted by my own Philippa, who had
retrained in astral engineering (I think) and become a pilot so she could earn
enough for me to stay at home as a full-time parent. Everyone else on the train
was ‘tutting’ at me and moaning that we’d have to slow down and risk missing
our evacuation slot because I was a terrible father, but then someone fished
Mathew out of the air using a butterfly net, and the guy that did it looked a
lot like John Hurt.
Weird.
RC 24-2-19
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