I went out with the constellation lady to an old market town that circled the blackened sun. The glove puppets that poked their false heads out of very long sleeves (winding like pavements) called this the past. We ate brunch in a department store with flames issuing from my open hands.
A very early start to go to the land shaped like a fish; I buried eggs and a flame that had burned for centuries. Coming back through the dense jungle I made contact with a family of pygmies living on the dark side of Mars.
I was a fixed wing aeroplane going to town through a sea of flak which rocked the invisible people I have kept in my pockets since my childhood. I had to change into a seagull to get home, I then laid an egg before going out again.
I had to walk the sellotape path again; slowly pulling my feet off the adhesive on each long stride. All the younger people, who these days have wings, flew by while reading upside down newspapers. Some even made hats from the paper - although I prefer to eat my chips directly off the top of my head.
I travelled down a mouse hole today. When I saw daylight again everyone had hands burnt out of their clothes, sometimes in the most inappropriate places. I smiled as a very large dollop of cheese dropped from a passing black cloud and covered my head - where a skyscraper hat would have traditionally been placed.
I had a morning in the dolls house where, sadly, every piece of furniture I sat on I broke. I then went through the waterfall to the water garden; every flower replaced with a droplet of glistening liquid. Later I drunk my wine from an old troll’s hat.