Daily Dreaming

It was a clear morning, and I was waiting on the side of the road for my Grandad to pick me up. I didn’t know where I was, but looking around I could see a large park some distance behind me. Past this were rows of houses, part of a quiet rural suburb much like my home town. I hadn’t been waiting long when I saw a familiar car turn the corner and head slowly towards me. The occupant beeped his horn and smiled at me, and I waved back at him. As he pulled up, the driver window rolled down and we greeted each other. I popped round the other side of the car and into the front passenger seat, then we were off.

The ride was pleasant as we drove past the rows of houses, and it was nice to catch up on what we had both been up to in the past few weeks. Slowly the journey took us into more built up areas, and before long we were driving through a town that I didn’t recognise. It wasn’t too busy, but there were still plenty of people milling about on the high street. I asked where we were going, but my Grandad seemed a little surprised I didn’t already know. He gave me a confused look before informing me that we were heading to see my Great Gran.

Passing through the town, we came to a side road that led down a hill and towards a large row of flats. These weren’t the buildings that I recognised as my Gran’s old residence, but Grandad assured me that this was the place. Pulling into a car park next to one of the blocks, I spotted my mum’s car already sat in a spot. It seemed that this was a little family reunion.

Once we were parked up, my Grandad said to go on ahead while he sorted something out. I headed over to the reception building sat to the left of the main block and entered the front double doors. Inside was a dated looking room with ugly flower-patterned carpets and a light beige wallpaper – a typical décor for an old people’s home. There was nobody at the reception counter, and other than this the only thing of note was a staircase and a lift opposite me.

I realised that there was no buzzer for visitors to let the residents know that they had arrived. Nor was I sure which floor or flat number was the correct one. Rather than wait sensibly for my Grandad, I decided to start heading up the stairs in the hopes that I’d find the right one.

Upon entering the stairwell, I paused to take in a spectacular sight. Two sets of stairs reached round a central pillar, spiralling upwards as far as the eye could see. This was definitely not the same building that I had seen outside. There was nobody else around, and it was eerily quiet for a building that should have housed many residents and visitors at this time of day. Again, rather than wait for my Grandad, I decided to press on and began climbing.

After what seemed like an age, I paused at the 17^th floor. I couldn’t believe how tall this building was, and I hadn’t paced myself properly. Squatting down and trying to catch my breath, I looked over at a door leading to this floor’s flats and decided to take my chances here. After a few moments rest, I got up and headed into the hallway.

There were a number of flats located here, and I took a guess at one about half way down on the left. I knocked on the door and braced for a stranger to open it, but was shocked and relieved when my mum opened the door instead. She gave me a hug and welcomed me in, pointing down the hall to the lounge where my Gran was sitting in an armchair. I headed over and returned the beaming smile that she was giving me, embracing her in a hug as well. It had been a long time since I’d seen her.

—

After a period of deep sleep, the first dream faded away and I next found myself sitting in a car with my two cousins and my older cousin’s wife. We were driving down a country road surrounded by lush green fields on either side. The atmosphere was jovial, and it emerged that we were heading on a road trip holiday somewhere within the UK. We spent some time laughing and chatting about various things, and the drive progressed on for while without incident.

Eventually the surrounding greenery began to give way to a more urban environment; the road wove up a hill with paving and the occasional rustic house on both sides. We made plans to stop in the nearby village for something to eat, and began looking out for potential restaurants or pubs that we could go to. There didn’t seem to be many options directly on the roadside, so once we were in the village itself we pulled into a public car park and decided to find somewhere on foot.

After a little walking around, I spotted a small book shop on the corner of a street. Ever the bookworm, I decided to go an have a look. My cousins were not very interested and told me that they’d call me once they found a restaurant, so I bade them farewell and headed inside. It was a very narrow little shop, with a single walkthrough surrounded by the till area on one side and a row of books on the other. Luckily there was only one other customer when I entered, so I could squeeze past him to browse the selection on offer.

My eyes wandered slowly across and down each shelf, with nothing much catching my eye. When I reached the bottom shelf, however, I was stunned. There was a little section dedicated to J.R.R. Tolkien, and in this were three first edition copies just sitting out in the open. I could hardly believe my luck as a Tolkien nut. Expecting the price on them to be extortionate, I bent down and picked one up. To my utter amazement they were selling for no more than a normal copy would.

Excited beyond reason, I decided to pick up all three copies and buy them. I couldn’t wait to show them off when I met up with my cousins again. Turning towards the till, the last memory of my dream was waiting behind the other customer as he chatted away to the cashier.

Only in my dreams could I hope to own those holy grails of Tolkien collectors…