Reality has a sick sense of humour…

I had a dream last night that I was hallucinating; or maybe I was hallucinating that I was having a dream. It’s hard to tell what is really the case but the first option sounds better so I’ll stick with that for the lack of any empirical evidence.

I was walking through a garden chatting politely with the hedge which was sipping tea delicately from bone china cups and eating jammy dodgers. Darting, perching birds composed of elegantly cursive calligraphy cut through the air and that left fine ink footprints, like tiny pen scratches, wherever they landed. In a tree, a serval stretched out along a branch discussing philosophy with an iridescent green woodpecker. Upon being spied it stretched sinuously and padded on silent feet behind the trunk and into nothingness. The woodpecker simply whistled innocently and examined the bark of the tree far too closely. In a dark corner a little girl in a blood stained dress with a necklace of dolls heads was playing with a boy made of mud and broken toys. I took care not to look too closely at what they were playing. It involved lots of screaming and knives.

Over the hedge I saw traffic lights, this signals covered with eyelids, blinking red, amber and green in turn; each set of curled eyelashes catching the gentle breeze. The signals were ignored by the traffic which was marching in step down the road under the blind gaze of a uniformed policemen, featureless apart from a pair of glossy, mirrored sunglasses.

I turned to my companion and asked him if he saw what I was seeing. He told me everything was normal and I was just seeing things, but I saw that suppressed smirk on his face telling me he was in on the joke reality was playing.

So; can you see what I see?

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