And dreams may come to change your days...

there was a smile as he looked down at his feet and at the same time he buried his hands into his dark brown cargo shorts. His dark hair was curled and riven with salt and sand. it blew in the warm gentle breeze, that came off the deepening blue of the sea. His green eyes glistened as he felt the cold soft wet sand, and the cool ocean cover his toes,as he buried them into it.
He then looked up and smiled contentedly as a huge flattening blood-orange sun was slowly setting on the flat horizon. The sky being almost cloudless, was an engaging rich warm orange on the horizon that ascended up through the reds, the purples and then finally the blues. Before clusters of stars began to glimmer as either red or blue-white pinpoints of flickering distant light. Creating geometric patterns, of no real purpose or hidden design.
The slow beat of reggae music flowed in and out of his field of hearing; in time with the gently sliding sea. The music came from the bar called “Joules”. He could just see the name picked out in yellow light bulbs,in the middle distance at end of the beach. While all around him, the warm sweet scent of slowly cooking marinaded food on warmly spitting Bar-b-Q’s mixed with the scent of dark rum and jasmine filled and fuelled his senses.
‘you like?’ came the almost whispered question.
The voice was a woman he recognised. Her tone was soft, yet sensual. She teased his heart and caused a plumping and warming of the flaccid muscles of his groin.
He smiled gently, yes he thought, this I like.

The alarm screamed in his ear, forcing him to open his eyes.The dull grey cream of the large bedroom was uninspiring, making feel flat inside. The screaming started almost immediately.
‘Oh Eleanor!’
‘DAAAD!’
‘just get off me!’
‘jubadadadada!’
‘Argghhh’
Then came the gentle tap on the head.
‘Time to get up hun.’ came the drained weary earthy voice.
He staggered out of bed, then he breathed in and could almost see the tips of his toes. His eyes looked strained and pain filled. His wrist hurt him constantly from the RSI injury he had from right-clicking on a mouse all day long.
He walked to the far wall and then slid open the window to see the untidy world beneath him. A small uncared for rear garden in a closed off street. with hedges and lines and houses that dissolved off into the distance.
He looked to his left and down into the garden of number 55 and saw "Mrs Fusspot" as he called her, potter and patter about her private garden, her thin birdlike legs showing from beneath the grey towelling of the dressing gown. Her narrow hooked face and nose,twitched as she flinched and fluttered, while she placed bird seed in the grey pot in the middle of her manicured lawn.
Then to his right and into the garden on the other side of the terrace. His lips pursed, he saw Mrs "Get-it while-you-can" also slowly stagger into view. She was a large round faced wide eyed woman, that had the appearance of being attractive once, but now age had crept upon her, distending parts of her body, and allowing other parts to sag, that might have looked attractive twenty years previously.
The only consolation he felt, rested in the fact that her garden was a filthy patchwork of both rotten food and dog excrement. He silently watched her with a growing sense of disgust, as she then threw out a bowl of wet cereal onto the overgrown lawn. At which point her nearly hairless and almost toothless grey looking hound slowly slapped and slobbered at the mud and grass in a disinterested lacklustre fashion. He was about to turn away as she raised her right leg slightly then turned back to watch her arse visibly shake as she bellowed out a loud squelchy sounding fart.
The sound made him shudder imperceptibly.
In the background he could hear the three girls fighting over some toy they had got for Christmas. He didn’t care… he just wanted to be on that beach.
‘Hun?’ you there?’came the tired response from under the covers.
Brent had to admit, loving her was hard. He found it hard to care about anything she said anymore. Though he knew the kids needed him and he knew that they were special. But Nikki made his blood run cold.
‘yeah.’ He said coldly. ‘Im here, and now I am going downstairs.’
Breakfast was the normal unnecessary arguments over various forms of dried cereal. While the holo-boxes that contained various dried or freeze dried biscuits screamed 'pick me pick me pick me' all at at once.
While the younger ones all screamed out their demands one on top of the other.
‘-I don’t like Weetabix.’
'-I want chocopppies'
‘-Oh dad, why? I hate that!'
Then the strange smell of a dressed, but as yet unwashed twelve year old passed silently by in front of him. He thought about saying something, directly to his stepson who had become more annoyed with him lately. but changed his mind; as he knew Nikki would say that he was picking on him again. So he decided to resort to sly and more indirect tactics.
‘Eleanor?’
‘Yes Dad?’
‘can you smell something?’
‘Like what dad?’
‘Oh I dunno, a sort of smelly boyish like smell perhaps?’
‘Honey’ Nikki warned.
‘What did I say?’
The twelve year old left the room silently sulking. Making him smile. Yes, he thought, there was pleasure in these little victories.
Then he looked at the Fridge and saw the picture of Julia smiling at at him. Julia was four when that picture was taken, her blonde hair blew about her face and her petite elfin chin. Four he thought. At which point he stifled back a tear.

*

The grav-car slid silently upon the grid, as the reports came over the thread. Revolts taking place in china the coffee price had shot through the roof… in the distance he could see the tall towers of the Avebury building were he worked as a "pixel picker". a joke pointed at him, and the RSI injury he sustained, due to clicking the mouse everyday.cars slid past him, the sky a dull drear grab grey, made of pollution and overpopulation. He looked down at the thread dial, and was just about to change it to another channel when the world changed once more.
He was back on that beautiful beach, with once again the stars shimmering in the sky.
He breathed in, and sensed the juniper. he could not deny it he was here, it felt very real to him. He exhaled, he shook his head, and then turned to suddenly face Rachael. he took a step back, as She smiled at him, the way she had done twenty years ago. Rachael...The one... the girl with the hips to die for and the gentle blue eyes. The only woman who had made him laugh until he cried... the love of his life... the one who had got away.
She took his hand and ,as they walked along the beach to the bar. Bob Marley singing “one love…” bounced off the warm air the pine trees and the roasting food.
‘you like it here?’ she asked again.
‘I don’t –‘
‘-never mind.’ She said as she moved forward and kissed him gently.

The office computer hummed him awake.
‘Brent Spiner!’
‘Yes?’ he said tiredly feeling annoyed that once again the machine had managed to get his name wrong.
‘You have missed fifteen clicks out of the thirty five clicks you were supposed to click in the last fifteen minutes…are you ok… Mr. Spiner, do you need a relaxation break? Do you need a stim pill or a lax pill? Mr. Spiner. Mr spiner you are not responding are you well Mr. Spiner? Are you dead Mr. Spiner?
‘My name is Spinner.’
‘Mr. Spiner.’
‘My name is Brent Spinner you stupid fucking machine.’
He said angrily. his voice almost a whisper ‘You never get it right do you? Do you?’
Then all sounds stopped.
'The supervisor is being called, please do not leave your station, if you are ill please remain calm if you are dead, then your relatives will be informed.
'what the-'
There was another click, this time from above. He looked up and into the large emerald void of glass floors that rose up and up and up almost out of sight, and through the myriad of feet a figure began to slowly descend down the lift from the floors above. There was another sound, this he recognised as the opening of the lift door. Then the sound of heavy determined perfectly paced steps came down the open corridor. Finally Morgan 10 the android supervisor came over.
He looked coolly at Brent.
‘is there a problem Mr. spiner?’
Yes Brent screamed inside himself. I have been working here for the last five years and despite changing the input data twenty million times on twenty million forms you still call me Spiner. MY NAME IS SPINNER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU DUMB FUCKING MACHINE?

‘Mr Smith Are you ok?’
He stared about him. the room was antiseptic and silent.
Doctor Bourwood stared at him. His over fat body bulged uncomfortably in the chair, of the dour drab medical room. His teeth large and ill fitting, did not suit his balding grey form. This man is a doctor? He thought.
‘What’s the problem? ‘
‘The problem…’ He stared at his sad looking wife, whose flat hair and bulging eyes leaked concern.
‘I keep having this dream…’
‘you dream about the beach?’
‘yeah…’ he looked shocked as if he hadn’t mentioned it before.
‘…Yes you mentioned it the last time you were here…’ he said. His voice darkly cautious in tone.
‘Then there is that-‘
‘-Are you reffering to the awful job you do?’
He nodded, dumfounded.
‘Mr. Smith…’ The doctor said informally. ‘…You haven’t worked in years.’
‘No, I go to work.’ He insisted.
‘Mr. Smith-‘
‘No! NO! my name is Spinner, Brent Spinner-‘
‘-your name is Smith… John smith‘ said the Doctor.

He Jumped.
The sea lapped over his toes as he and Rachael made their way towards the bar.
‘Darling are you ok?’
The woman he thought Rachael asked gently.
‘what is happening to me?’
‘your fine.’
‘No I am not fine.’ Where am I is this real what is happening to me?’
She smiled. ‘its as real as you want it to be…’
He stared at her.
‘what does that mean?’
She smiled again this time slowly morphing into Nikki, then Mrs, Fusspot, then Mrs get-it-while- you-can.
‘It means, whatever reality you want to hold on to, is the one you want.’
Rachael reappered. The sun began to set, as the band continued to play.
‘You have been in an accident.’ Rachael began, your car hit another car. you are…
‘I’m dead?’
‘no… that’s not accurate… you are not apart of the world you knew.’
‘So I am dead?’
‘That depends upon your point of view.'
‘No! NO! fuck off!’
Then there was a huge cracking sound. the sea began to boil, and steam, the sun began to increase in size beach began to crack apart, the sea began to sink.
‘Its ok… hold on…’ said rachael, hold one for me.
‘Daddy’
He turned and faced the little girl and the beach came back again.
‘Julia..?’
‘daddy?’ Oh daddy, daddy daddy.’ She said gently. As he picked her up and hugged her.
Julia… it was the road outside their house, a road like any other. She ran out of the front door and into the road… the car knocked her, and then disappeared from view. Leaving her broken little body on the floor…Julia… he hugged her hugged her like he had never hugged anything else in his life before, and cried… cried…
‘Oh daddy its ok… daddy don’t be scared daddy I love you…daddy…’
The alarm screamed in his ear, forcing him to open his eyes. the screaming started almost immediately.
‘Oh Eleanor!’
‘DAAAD!’
‘just get off me!’
‘jubadadadada!’
‘Argghhh’
Then came the gentle tap on the head.
‘Time to get up hun.’
It was his tired sounding wife.
Brent staggered out of bed, he breathed in and could almost see his hips. His eyes looked strained and pain filled. His wrist hurt him constantly from the RSI injury he had from right, clicking on a mouse all day long. He walked to the far wall and looked out of the bedroom window to see beneath him, a small uncared for rear garden in a closed off street… but this time, there stood Julia smiling up at him, running to the front door of the house.