Image credit: Nic Neish
‘I can’t remember all the dream,’ Lisa told Susan over a mid-week lunch break, ‘Or nightmare, because I think it was that. So strange. I think it was a nightmare but I also think most of the bad parts I’ve blocked out.’
‘Apart from the hanged girl,’ Susan commented dryly, lifting her café latte to her lips and blowing softly as though she thought it would be too hot and scald her tongue.
‘Yes, though even that, I get the sense there was something worse about that than just what my fevered mind could imagine it was like, but I can’t quite get to it . Just like when a word is on the tip of your tongue. It’s exasperating.’
‘But most of the dream, or nightmare, was weird stuff about our neighbour,’ Susan countered, smiling slightly, ‘And I get the sense that wasn’t entirely unwelcome?’
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 