is a marketable commodity. In a dark part of town next to the
trotter emporium there's a store that sells superstition from a jar. I was mooching midweek around Amulets, for that is its name when I lingered too long beneath a
dreamcatcher that dripped on my head. One moment it's copper bangles the next I'm pursued by four monsters with foul breath through a really long launderette. I was hampered in my escape by having to put money in every tenth washer. Breathlessly I ran, stopped, put in money, moved wash cycles on, folded towels, was pursued. The monsters I saw stopped at every eighth machine and folded sheets, however sheets need more folding than towels so they started to fall behind. I slowed, because when they stopped they gossiped, about family, about friends, about who was having an affair with whom, who'd been recently eaten by whom. Next thing I'm opposite a monster folding a beautifully white cotton bed sheet and we were stepping inward and outward like old time dancers. Stepping and folding the monster politely asked how my family was, I replied fine except for uncle Billy who lost his head whilst making soup, fell right off his shoulders and into the pot. The monster frowned and said the same thing happened to him once. Then a voice said,
"Excuse me." It was the shop owner.
I woke up. "Er sorry," I said
"Would you mind not draining the dream catchers they're expensive."
I said "No they aren't."
And he said, "Oh alright, they don't cost that much but I like to keep them fresh. And them bangles too." He nodded at the three copper bands that were turning my skin green.
"Looks like these are draining too, some sort of green." I said.
"Hey you." He shouted over my shoulder to another customer who blinked back to reality. "No lingering under the dream catchers, pulleese."
She said "Bloody hell, I was suddenly in this launderette being pursued by monsters..."
I said to the shop owner, "You cheapskate, they all have the same dream. The launderette dream."
He apologised by explaining how they came to him as a job lot, sort of fell off the back of a lorry. For keeping his secret he presented us both with a free bag of superstition. Outside the store I said to my fellow customer.
"What you going to do with your bag?"
She replied, "I'm going to sprinkle it on my husband's food to dilute his hyper-rationalism because it's driving me mad."
"Hey," I said, " You have a reason to use some unreason." And we both laughed.
I'm not sure what to do with my bag, I'll probably feed it to the
alley cats who live out back as they'll eat anything.
