Don’t you find that if you’ve had a dream for the first 2 minutes after you’ve woken up the dream is completely clear and logical and for a second it’s real? Last night I dreamt about one of my favourite actors, Michael C Hall aka Dexter. Having spent a whole day doing stuff I can’t remember exactly what happened. Here’s a prose poem of my dream.

Dexter’s grinning at me. A beige room with a khaki couch and old people are asking questions. Their grey faces and white hair. I can see their yellow stained teeth. I'm outside. Bright white sky, bright lime green grass. Grass spears are strokes of a crayola. An application from - Dexter’s apprentice. Dexter runs past, he’s wearing a turquoise sleeveless shirt and chinos. He says “hold this”...little bottles in my palm. “Where’s Dexter” asked the British policeman. I can't see his eyes, he has a stubbly chin. “I don’t know”...“You are his apprentice?”...“Yes”