In dreams, I’m the man that invented the Ferris wheel. In a bubble of music and laughter on a frozen lake, she’s throwing darts at a line of balloons pinned to a wooden board, and each time one of them pops, she looks over at me so excitedly while biting her lower lip. There are fireworks and ice skaters and cotton candy. There are swans and dodgems and gusts of wind that pinch our skin before we kiss. Hold me close and say you’re mine. Pull me in and say that you want me. There are sparklers and hot dogs filled to bursting with ketchup and fried onions, and as she cuddles a giant teddy I won her by throwing hoops over plastic ducks, she hops from foot to foot while gazing at all the other lovers. She wants to be just like them, and she wants them to be just like her. I need to take a leak but there’s nowhere to go other than behind a row of trees over by the bouncy castle. Shouldn’t do it in case a young child runs into me and I’m accused of being a pervert, but I need to go, and go I do. The only problem is that she distracts me by calling out my name and I piss all over my shoes. My favourite shoes, as well. When she discovers my fate, she giggles and dances around and although I do my best to dampen her spirits she just shakes me off and spins in circles as if she were the only girl in the world. She spins and squeals and spins some more as I stand there laughing at just how much she makes me feel alive. In dreams, I’m the man that invented the Ferris wheel. There’s one behind us, moving through time so black against the bone-white moon that shines so bright. Those aboard are sat pointing at the stars. We both know they’ve been dead for years, but we keep such secrets to ourselves. They pass back and forth between our mouths in place of words as a song by Tears for Fears blasts out of several speakers causing the hairs on the back of our necks to stand on end.
Author S. K. Nicholas 
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