Mr Spoon

Last night I slept for twelve hours. I only woke up once. At that time I asked The Man, urgently,

"Is it Saturday? Can I sleep more?"

"Yes," he said, and he may have said more but I did not hear it. I was asleep again already, dreaming.

I dreamed that I met a spoon with the head of a man. He had a very tidy haircut, and his face was long, white and sad. Also, he had an extremely long neck. In fact, that was all he had, because he was a spoon.

"Help me!" he wailed, and big tears trickled down his face. "Please! Help me! I want to pee!"

But I did not help him because I had been told, or maybe just knew (in the way you know things in dreams) that it was a trick. He was dangerous. He continued to cry for help and I carried on, along with everybody else. There were a lot of people.

It was a postmodern dream. I know that because somebody in the dream told me so.

"So this is what the future is like," I remember thinking. My sleeping brain interpreted the word 'postmodern' very literally.

When I woke up Mr Spoon was still vivid in my mind, but the rest of the dream faded rapidly. I laughed at the idea of a spoon with a man's head. How silly! I thought. How utterly bizarre! But he also made me feel a little anxious. What was so dangerous about him? Why couldn't I help him?

And what was all THAT about?