Dream girl

I wandered through the streets of a Kensington that never was. Narrow alleys flooded with daylight where darkness should have been, lined with with red brick shops selling their wares - intricate, fragile curios, brightly painted wooden toys and... photographs, walls and walls lined with ancient prints of people and landscapes and friends and family, all in shades of grey and sepia. And in one of those twisting cobbled streets I happened upon a girl or a woman. She was small and lithe and agile, and her eyes were as bright as her smile. She asked for my help. I don't remember with what, but it turned out to be nothing more than a ruse. She ensnared me in a golden ribbon and danced away with my wallet. I disentangled myself and started in pursuit. There was no malice in her actions, only mischief and I felt no anger towards her. She knew I was following behind, she expected it of me and led me on a merry chase. Through crowds she darted and weaved, and in and out of doorways she flitted, always trying to keep a step ahead of me, glancing backwards with a twinkle in her eye to see where I was. I caught up with her - she didn't expected that, but she wasn't upset. It was all a big game and she was delighted to find someone to play with. And I felt the same way.

We walked on together, looking at the shops and she stopped before the photographs, looking sad as she reached up to touch one. I don't know why. We stopped for tea and sat outside in small square overgrown with foliage, like an age old churchyard, where we ate platefuls of scones covered with strawberry jam and clotted cream. We chatted amiably about things I won't reveal before running off through the streets of Kensington again, spreading mischief before us. I think she saw herself in me and I in her.

And then I woke and it was a painful sort of waking. I've never befriended anyone in a dream before. I wish she were real.