This story of mine came in the top six (runnerup) of the 2002 Literary Competition. It’s about a paradox for a dreamwalker.

   I had been walking between realities, venturing in the place between places. I came across a house and a man.
   Many times I’ve met bizarre people and encountered strange oddities. But this was just a house. Tall, two stories, bright red supports and yellow walls. The man I was more interested in. He intrigued me the way he bent over his large carpetbag, heaving and shoving something out of the bag. For all his fragile appearance he maintained great dexterity in this effort.
   He was delighted to see me, grabbing my hand and shaking it and grinning up at me through his perfectly round black sunglasses. He never once took of his hat to me though.
   “You must help me. Simple, ya? We must gather up this house and wrap it for travelling.” At this point I could see what he was trying to pull out, a huge roll of see-through cling-film. Four or five feet stuck out of the bag and he pulled more out, swinging the roll high above me in the sky. “Simple task.”
   I acknowledged his mad raving with a polite bow. I didn’t notice how the house was shrunk and placed into his pocket. It seemed to have happened while I listened.

   I left him there, determined to find a way in to a place rather then this no place. Walking dreams can bend one’s reality ever so easily.
   And so I did. Quickly escaping but I discovered I had only re-entered elsewhere. The old man was seated at table, grinning madly at me. I didn’t like the d�cor, bright red carpet and walls and yellow supports. Horribly tasteless.
   I sat down at the table.
   “Do ya want to see what’s in me pocket?”
   “The house.” I answered rather bored with the affair.
   “But you’re in the house.”
   Then I realised my dilemma. The house was in his pocket. But here he was in the house with me. He pulled wide his pocket to try and expose it’s contents. Suddenly I didn’t want him to pull out what he found. For if he pulled out the house, and we’re in the house, things could get very sticky.
   “WAIT!” I reached out for him.
   He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

   I, unfortunately, woke up before discovering what was in his pocket. I simply had arrived somewhere.


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