Chapter 22

“Talk to me,” Paul said.

“It was the same as usual. Darkness. This heavy weight over me, crushing me slowly, and…petrol. Yes, I remember, this time there was petrol. I was soaked in it.”

Paul shivered. A couple of years ago a scrap yard owner he was bothering about buying dodgy scrap cash in hand had tossed petrol on him and threatened to flick his lighter if Paul didn’t piss off. It had probably been about a cupful of petrol. Ruined his jacket and that’s all. But he still recalled the stench of the stuff and the bone-melting terror of being so vulnerable so suddenly.

“Don’t talk about the details,” Paul said. “Let them fade. Real sensations make a dream fade. Put a light on. Touch something. Yourself.”

“Excuse me?”