This story of mine was based on many years of a very similar dream. I would visit my mother’s father as he sat on a chair on a concrete slab in the backyard of his home. It was a yard I knew well from my childhood. Though he was dead and would not speak, he was no corpse. He was a man sitting in a chair, with his pipe in his mouth. Once he smiled, and sucked his pipe stem in a little. Another time he pulled his cardigan higher over his shoulders. The dream advanced each time in that his house decayed more and more, though he remained unchanged, sitting under light that reminded me of an illuminated suburban tennis court at night (when I was young there was such a thing near his home, but it is covered in town houses now because that is progress). I don’t think that I have had the dream again since writing the story. Perhaps I should write a story about the reoccurring shark dream I have, that is a nasty one.

Thank you very much to Zoetic Press for including it in their Alphanumeric podcast (and it will soon be included in their NonBinary Review). The story is from the perspective of a 7 or so year old girl, which is a bit weird because you can hear me narrate it in my 60 year old male voice – well I hope you can, I was not able to get it working.

So here you go.