Subconcious: We know all the answers!

Where do all the old books go?

Books forgotten, passed to-and-fro,

Stories regected, not wanted, oh,

Where do all the old books go?

            *                             *                                   *                            * 


Giant luminous letters stretched through the dream on an invisible billboard.

Wake up, El.

Ok, just give me a minute.

Eloise groaned. Her face was pressed into the floor of her gentle, light dream.

No, now. You need to go back to work.

She gave a depressed scowl at the letters. Unflapped by the imaginary projection of her concious, Eloise sat up, eyes closed. Her experience in dealing with herself was great indeed.

Why is it so important to go to work? It's just money...



I can't be bothered explaining it to you. You have to go tell that man. About the books.

What? No! Are I....crazy? Every time I listen end up doing something stupid!

That was one time, El. How were you to know that piano was Swedish? You don't listen to me, anyway...

Of course I don't - not after that. Do you know how bad my fear of palm trees is now?

Yes. I am you, you know.

Well, unfortunately for you, I'm not going to listen to myself anymore. I know what I'm doing.

The billboard sighed, somehow. It's surprising how many inner selves find their counterparts intolerable. They really don't get paid enough.

Do you really want me to break your frontal lobe that badly?

Frontal? What does that do?

Ah yes, I forgot. Biology never was your forté. Fine. Go on living your normal life. See if you care.

And with that, the invisible billboard shrugged and went back to watching Holby City, leaving Eloise to return to full conciousness.


Indeed, she did, after a matter of matter of fashion. El found that she had sleepwalked to the top of the stairs, but it was no big deal. She hoped.

Continuing with her lunchly routine, she fed Murk, sprinkled bird food on the outdoor table, and set out a sandwich for herself. Although she found it difficult to bite her lip in contemplation and chew beef at the same time, she realised the enormity of the problem.

Eloise was now at a crossroads. Should she tell Mr. Forrest? Or ignore the creepy appearances?

Was she the victim of a poltergeist? Or was her psychologist already missing her?

The End

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