NB please read Part 1 first at:
Dream Sequences (a story in creation) http://wp.me/p1MjHq-1jS via
Henry’s mind considered these things during the waking hours; to the detriment of his paying attention to his work and his driving skills – which were relatively called into question ‘twice’ on the way into the office; ‘many’ times ‘in’ his office; and ‘three’ times on the way back – once with almost disastrous consequences for an intrepid motorcyclist on a courier ‘Mission from G.O. Deliveries’ where he, the dispatch rider, had almost met his Almighty Employer.
Henry parked his dilapidated Ford Belligerent in an unusually empty space only a hundred and fifty yards from his flat, and ventured away from sanctuary and towards the quietude of the public library.
Henry was pleased to see it still there; he always assumed it would become a cut-price something-or-other overnight and his refuge from society’s babble would disappear like a traffic warden’s cologne after he’d photographed your car V.I.N. number not three seconds since you’d parked and popped into the newsagents for some Aspirin.
Henry found a table with seat near the Motoring section and dumped twelve back-issues of Exchange and Mart upon grubby surface.
It took him the effort of retracing eight issues before he found what he was looking for.
1926 Bentley, 3.0 Litre, British Racing Green, yada yada yada… up for auction at Rialto (Automobiles) Auction Rooms, Tuesday 7th, lot 458, estimate of £300K-£320K.
Henry whistled – and received a look of disapproval / approbation from a nearby librarian who was replacing ‘Humbly’s Diesel Engines of the 1950s’ or some-such tome.
‘Well, that detail was right.’ he thought. ‘A 1926 Bentley in reality looks just like the one in my dream – apart from the colour.’
Henry could have Googled this information in seconds; but, being of the sort of disposition that feels a book to be paper and words first – any other format (if you must) is a poor second.
However, finding A.R.P. might require a little of today’s modern-magic. He knew that needles in haystacks were a mouse-click away when the Interweb was put to use – Henry replaced the E&Ms correctly (in chronological order) and decided ‘now’ would be the time to seek out ‘Warden’ for any truths in ‘her’ story.
Henry had not had any dreams continuing his encounter with this enigma of a pretty, young lady who ‘they’ called ‘The mechanic’ or had that been a joke? He tried to visualise her face; arrange her features in proper order; remember her hair colour, style, length, but he was hopelessly hopeless at that sort of thing unless taking detailed notes at the time – which he hadn’t.
Not having had any more chances to gaze upon her smiling face, Henry had just taken to noting down the words spoken and the detail of the… the what? Hardly a date. She had been a knight in shining armour to his broken down damsel in distress – then she had galloped into the sunset without as much as a: ‘See you Tuesday; Rialto? Seven?’
Today was Tuesday. The 7th. Rialto! Where were the Rialto (Automobile) Auction Rooms?
NB how do you think it’s going? No dreams in this bit; but, that is fine IMO. G:)