No.80, Monday, 23rd. February 2026

I have been having strange dreams lately. Let me re-phrase that, as most of us have strange dreams most of the time. My dreams are usually fantastic, a word I use with great care as, in my experience, many of the people who use it have detached its real meaning and watered it down to refer to something that is merely ‘very good’. I use the word in its original sense, as an adjective of fantasy.

Most of my dreams are fantasy. A jumbled mess of people and places, all out of space and time in relation to one another. Or wandering around dark neon streets and buildings that are unfeasibly large and maze-like, never reaching where I want to be and often ending up in narrow, tight and dark spaces where the dream becomes a nightmare and I invariably wake up.

But lately some of my dreams are strangely pedestrian, with fantasy elements that are very subtle. During the night I bumped into a family of Americans on holiday in London. I found myself being uncharacteristically unpleasant about New York and Los Angeles, two cities I like. They were, I believe, from Texas, and were slightly odd. They were not enjoying themselves to the point of agitation and couldn’t wait to get away, wanting directions to the nearest railway station. After a while I noticed that the man was really quite strange, and had the feet of an elephant. See what I mean?

Anyway, the dream felt as if it was all about travel and during it I came to realise that my passport and driving licence were out of date. These thoughts kept repeating and filling me with a sense of dread. How would I get a new passport? A new driving licence? If I win some money how I am I going to drive to my new home or travel abroad on holiday? I had made my peace some years ago with the fact that I will never own a home and never again enjoy a holiday. And then I woke up.

It is indeed true that I have no passport now, and my driving licence is about to expire. But I have never felt trapped by these things. I have simply accepted them as a feature of my retired existence. Or have I?