Dream Dog

I dreamt that I adopted a dog off someone.
The dog hugged me. I couldn't turn him away.
There was a sadness in the dog.
I was worried that my cat would react badly but he put his arm round the dog and consoled him.
I woke up and I am glad I don't have have a dog.
I don't want to have to walk it.

Ellen

A mountain, how is it a mountain? It’s not a thing, it’s not one part. Ellen couldn't think of how to describe what it was. It was tall but it wasn't an it. It was a point next to other points and they were tall too and depending on where you stood, well everywhere you stood, they were the same thing. It was just where the land reached a peak.

A mountain should stand on its own.

Mark

Daniel immediately removed the straws from the gin and tonic he received from the bar man. Mark knew from previous conversations that Daniel had heard that if a woman sees a man suck on a straw it evokes thoughts that the man enjoys sucking on tiny penises. It sounded ridiculous but it sounded more ridiculous when said out loud than it did repeated in Marks head. They talked about a mutual friend’s fascination with pot plants. Daniel finished his drink and started munching on the ice. Chewing and crunching it in his mouth.

“Dude stop doing that” said Mark.

“What?” replied Daniel with a frown.

“Stop munching on ice, it’s not a snack.”

“It’s delicious!”

“What? Ice is not delicious!” What a ridiculous man thought Mark as he took a bite out his lime wedge.

Christian

Rain flicked the window behind the thin brown curtains that did a weak job of hiding the pale sunlight outside. The guilt Christian usually felt about not relishing in the wonder of the outside world was removed by the comforting rain crackling on the windowsill. Who would want to go out on a day like today, he thought to himself, whilst gently thumbing the material between two wires on his washing basket. The silky polyester creaked against his skin as the wires dug into his thumb around the nail. Each time he squeezed the wires to rub against the netting on the side of the basket, they would slip out his grip and spring back into place. The only thing that swayed his attention from the washing basket was the satisfying way all the books of the same height were lined up on the top bookshelf. This was enough to draw Christian from his chair and for him to walk over to the shelves. When he got there he realised he should formulate a reason why he’d made the journey. He thought it was bad that there were so many half read novels. After picking up one of the less repellent books he saw the book-mark was not as far into the weighty set of pages as he remembered it being so he put it back.

Jake

Jake had his flat all set up. Everything had a place and it fitted together pretty comfortably. His life as a single bachelor living on his own was going to be one of pure control in every aspect. Once the TV stand which has been left infuriatingly half-finished because of the sloppy stock control at Ikea was complete only the empty plant pot remained. It was a gaping pit of unfinished home decorating sitting by the windowsill. Jake for days wondered what delicate living ornament would stand in that corner. Perhaps its subtle leaves could be complemented by a couple of ornamental paper flowers with illustrated petals. The trip to the garden centre was made with haste but nothing fit the bill so the event was postponed and relocated for another day. The gaping pit grew wider and wider. You don’t live here it said. A decisive trip was arranged, if I don’t find it here, well I don’t know what I’ll do, he thought. The home plant section was less a botanical garden and more an old woman’s living room. Is this all of it? It was. There were no paper thin leaves of faint beauty or nests of exotic colours in balanced pose. In the end the most subtle and delicate plant stood atop an underwhelming display of dark green, waxy floras, a wiry shrub with monochromatic green spiky leaves, a fica, £29.99. It was too expensive and too plain but that empty pit had to be filled by something so it came back and sat in the pot. Somehow it managed to pick apart the room’s order. Its awkward shape and flat long leaves pointing out the drab shoddiness of the walls and furniture. Oh well Jake thought at least it’s finished now.

Stephen

Once when Stephen was 13 he was sitting at the side of a village hall towards the end of a school disco. After wearing a thick black shirt all evening, the heat generated by the summer air and dancing mixed with the pubescent turmoil in his armpits left him very sweaty. As the final slow dance song started up, Sarah Scott casually invited a dance and it was Stephen who she asked first. Sarah Scott was number one in the league table of common thoughts in Stephan’s mind. As he watched her reach for books in library class or sit crossed legs in English, the chemicals which he had not yet learned how to live with tore through his body crashing into his chest, spilling into his stomach and simmering in his pants. The first time she tried to talk to him, the chemicals paralysed his body in fear and he couldn't force out a word but by the time Sarah asked Stephen to dance they had built up a genial dialogue. The chemicals had done their damage in a different way this time though. The sweat could not be revealed to her and the offer was turned down. Instead she danced with Aaron May. Aaron was a fat boy who grew out of his fat but kept the anger. He carried the demeanour of a bully but lacked the strength and or cutting wit to pull it off so instead just made his own life joyless and violent place. They went out all through school and the hope of her was lost forever.

Joe

He had read once that one of the worst things you can say to a girl is that you loved them. Those words can ruin it all. He wondered if anyone had ever truthfully told someone that they loved them and that it had been a surprise. He had never told Emily he loved her but eventually they both knew he did. He thought about the first time he knew, it was on the second night he woke up with her. As the damp light rained in through the curtains in his room onto their bed, he lay beside her and studied where the base of her head met her neck. Each dark hair was so beautiful in its contrast to her skin, it would have been a tragedy if any one of those hairs broke or fell off. It was the second time Joe had made a point to store and feel every moment with Emily and commit it to memory. In those long months, spending time with her was like re-living a past life, the exact moment the relationship would end was a hazy memory but he knew it was coming. There were times when he imagined that it wouldn't but it was almost a relief when she broke it off via text message and released him from the dream.