I slept, and dreamed, and dreamt that instead of Melbourne, the Male and I were moving to Sydney, except now we both came from Gladstone. We were looking at a house which was, apparently, the first ever built on reclaimed land. 'New' land, people kept calling it, struck with awe. I didn't understand, and said so, since half of Gladstone is built on reclaimed mud flats. It was a big house, anyway, and kept on getting bigger, the way things in dreams do. It was meant to be a beach house, and then the beach was right behind it, and there was a row of showers and lots of space.

And then there was a showdown of some sort, a strange and morphing experience, as I understood, the way one does in dreams, that the only way Arthur (don't ask, I don't know) was going to emerge victorious was if he got in touch with his feminine side. He managed it, and we all settled down for a celebratory coffee, with water boiled in a saucepan, as some random guy plotted to create a huge corporate empire made of really funky architecture.

This is what happens when you sleep in the afternoon, boys and girls. Let that be a warning to you.