Chapter 10
That night Tom had a dream as real and as vivid as a nightmare. Often now he would have them, and when he woke they rotated inside his mind like a catchy tune.
The dreams came to him as a whisper in the dusk and always they were the same: he was a baby, a toddler, lurching determinedly over a curved geometric surface patterned with glowing, shifting shapes and studded with symmetrical, geometric electronic components. His synesthesia was active, so they sparkled and glowed as if in celebration.
To his right were long legs keeping silent pace. They were not solid, but drawn in 2D: a thick black outline filled with grey. To his left was Poppie, strangely solid and real, fussing along as a benign adult-c*m-schoolmaster-c*m-friend.
And sometimes Poppie would say ‘yes: that one,
