It was here.
Yes, right here, and I was taking bricks from the corner, here, just pulling them out, like it was my job to do it, I didn’t feel anything about it, but it was midnight, or very late at night.
That’s extremely bizarre.
No, it’s bizarre because I heard a noise around one last night, I came out in my jocks…
Yeah, I’m not shitting you.
But Jim…for God’s sake, in my dream you came out in your jocks, well you didn’t come out, I heard you shout something inside and run past the window as though you were coming out. I just waited because I thought, well, this is my job, he’ll see that—
But the bricks, what does it mean, you were taking bricks from me, from my house.
Yeah, the corner here.
And doing what with them?
Organising them, I think, further away, but they were still going to be thrown out I think, they were rubbish.
I still can’t get over the coincidence.
Is God telling us something?
Stop stealing shit from me.
Look at the goddamned dog now, why does he do that. He looks like he’s done something wrong, where is he going, why is one spot to him better than another, what is going through his head?
He’s alright. Maybe he’s smelling that intruder.
Yeah, probably, he’s been nothing but problems since Rikki left, nothing but problems.
Animals feel things we don’t.
And dream, apparently.
That fucks with my head.
What? Dog dreams?
Yeah…like…why? Why do they have to dream? Where does that information go?
Where does it come from.
Are they moving toward something too, like us with the bricks and the house? Figuring things out?
Why should they, is what you’re asking.
Why should we?
I guess we shouldn’t.
So leave the bricks, forget about it, I’ll steal some of yours tonight—I’ll drink a whole case, come over smashed, knock on the door and scream, “Hey! About those bricks you owe me!”
In a dream?
What difference does it make?