Dream Party At Number 10

In my dreams like many have dreams, I went to number 10 Drowning Street. in this pandemic, isolation to cheat, there is no other better place to meet, greet, drink and eat! In the back garden, I sat with Boris, chatting and laughing a guff! Donald sat drinking a can of beer, American, of course! all in good cheer, tears rolling down his eyes in mirth, as he recounted his Capitol trick! there were a number of barking dogs, running around and wagging their tails! that waited to be fed of the remains on the table! their long ears pricked but their faces were human. I thought they must be Boris’ pets all drawn from his cabinet. The party lasted long into the night, hopefully from media-hush, hush- out of sight! such fun, such fun, such god damn fun, with such a pack of looneys to govern, this old queen’s country to run! someone said the poor old bloke is dead! that guy to whom the queen was wed! couldn’t recall his name, these drinks, makes you go fuzzy in the head! Shall catch up in the morning, send a wreath, or something, right now let’s get on with the drinking! there were some souls that stood all in silence in the outer ring. a crowd of souls, a very large crowd in ‘thousands of thousands’ that watched. I thought these must be the ones that passed during the pandemic dying in loneliness away from their families…. …and that shattered my dream.. I was back in my home nursing my own, in fear, and all alone….. Written 03/02/2022