Dream Sharing

Yes, we do share our dreams, of course we leave out the inadmissible, the dark alcoves and the flying monkeys. At breakfast I scratch in a notebook, doodle questions like why I feel a duck-billed platypus is still nibbling my brain? I remember then the billabong and the ‘jolly swagman’ all of whom party-crashed my REM-sleep. I ask: did you dream in the night dear? “Flamingo” she says tersely as if I were prying too deep. After a pause, “You ran over my pet flamingo with that big stupid truck of yours.” I thoughtfully buttered some toast. “It was the flying monkey’s” I reply weakly.