Dreaming of Wallace

There had been a disporia away from the smoking-table. Instead, it had been claimed by Albert Camus, Birdman and Wallace. I was deceiding whether to plant my pint upon the bar and have a brief two minute, three-foot conversation with the smoking-table and then disappear into my own world, when Wallace asked after my health. Now, that would not have been unusual, but I had dreamed of Wallace the night before . . .We were going on holiday together and I had lost him in the biggest Heathrow in the world . . . The last image I have before I awoke, was of myself screaming down empty terminal passageways "WALLACE . . .WALLACE?" So, because of that, I joined the smoking-table and told them of my dream. Wallace was delighted that he had surfaced in anybodies dream, Albert Camus who doesn't speak great english nodded a lot and Birdman held his lips shut with his fingers like a bulldog clip. After all the usual dreamtalk and sleepwalking talk that a group of drinkers can engage in, Birdman finally spoke: "We're different, you and me! 'Cos if I'd had a dream about anybody in here, I wouldn't have said a word." The table went silent. "Trust me Birdman," I replied, "if I had dreamt that I of buggered Wallace senseless , I would have kept my mouth shut too."