Saturday Night Dream

I was at the beach with Tom, from work. The sky was dark, and had that dream-portentiousness about it. The beach as made of sand and not pebbles, as it is in waking life. By the old pier a huge boat had been grounded. Black hulk, rotting timbers. beached leviathan. Tom and myself were searching along the sand dunes for something. I pulled out an old fashioned rifle from the sands. It was some kind of exhibition rifle - it was still attached to some kind of frame that was hung on the wall. I called to Tom to show him what I had. I was pleased. Tom looked reproachingly at me. Told me to put the rifle away because you didn't know who was watching. Crestfallen, I folded the rifle up, and continued searching for what I didn't know.