Author: Aubrey Williams

“I don’t want this to happen again, going on around and around.”

“What do you mean?”

The first man drank his coffee, squinting in the sun of a Parisian winter. His hat wasn’t shading him from the rays.

“It keeps happening in my dream: you and I meet here, I know something’s wrong, and we keep coming back here and repeating the same routine.”

The second man slowly poured milk into his coffee from the stainless-steel jug.

“When you say— hold on a moment”, said the second man, as he removed his hat, dusted it, and put it back on, drawing himself back up straight. “What do you mean “keeps happening”? Do you mean that you keep having the same dream, or that it happens continuously in the one dream?”

It was quite a busy terrace, but the cold of the middle-day meant the people spoke in muted voices. Inside was dense and warm, the wood shining with the varnish of cheerful conversation, but the outside was like the perfect dessert in the organised freezer.

“I don’t know, honestly,” replied the first man, looking off into the distance with a slightly pained, confused look on his face. “I thought it was the one dream, but then I have this feeling I’ve had it before… maybe it’s both; could that happen?”

The second man pondered this, stiffly.

“Well, yes, the mind is capable of all sorts of things. But, tell me, what else happens? You look concerned.”

The first man looked over the top of the second man’s head, who turned instinctively around. It was only a waiter and the fellow patrons of the atmosphere. The first man learned in, looking up at his friend with his eager eyes.

“There’s a woman in the park, with a pram… only the pram’s empty, and she looks at me with this horrifying expression on her face, and I realise she’s doing the bad things around me…”

“What bad things?”

“Everything. There’s a car, and a drunken man in the doorway of an abandoned building who shouts at me… I don’t understand.”

The second man thought he’d seen a film like that before.

“Well, we can sit here until we got for lunch, or we see the park. If you’re brave enough, you might at least know for sure.”

The first man knew the second man would say that, and the acid of fear burned, but he knew that he really ought to.

They paid for their drinks, and then walked over the road— quiet now— to the oval-shaped park. One path crossed over another, and the bushes were untidy, so you didn’t quite know whether it was straight or not. The men looked out to the other side, over the frozen-over pond, and the various benches were unoccupied, but for a deserted sleeping bag. However, they turned to the side, and saw her—

She had a haggard face, with eyes that practically popped-out of her skill, and wore a cold sneer. She rocked a pram that was empty. Her skin was pallid, and her free hand was clenched in a fist. She laughed silently at the first man, and tears welled in his eyes. He darted back across the road, nearly getting hit by a large black vehicle. He heard someone yelling at him, but couldn’t bring himself to look around. He felt faint, drained…

He sat down at the table outside, panting, then ordered a glass of water. After a moment, his friend sat down, ever elegant and poised.

“I had the strangest dream, and I need to tell you about it.”