And then I found out it hadn’t been a dream ………


At the bus stop this morning I was stood next to an unusual looking man that couldn’t stop yawning.

He made a point of cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sounds that he directed north, east, west and south.

He wasn’t very well dressed and his hair was a lank greasy mess, it was all over the place, as it was a bit windy it kept blowing into his face.

He didn’t seem perturbed by this he just kept yawning and making the most awful sounds whilst pushing his hair back into its place.

His lace up shoes were a disgrace, unpolished with the backs all split and broken down, they were well weathered, leather and brown.

When he rose onto the tips of his toes to belt out the sounds of his yawns to all and sundry his heels lifted out of his shoes and I noticed the heels of his socks were thread bear.

There was also a tear under the arm of his sport’s jacket and what appeared to be a brown sauce stain on his shirt and under his fingernails was dirt.

This man obviously didn’t care about his appearance or the fact that he was getting on the nerves of most of the people standing waiting for the bus.

Then all of a sudden a tall thin unassuming man who had been standing at the front of the queue approached the yawning man and told him to stop making a nuisance of himself or else he would stop him with force.

Of course, not wanting to be knocked to the ground, the yawning man then stopped his antics.

And then the bus we had all patiently been waiting for came into view, it arrived, it stopped, we all got on it and we paid our dues.

Standing on the bus my feet felt strangely tight and I looked down at my shoes which bizarrely were not mine but those of the yawning man.

I then looked around to find the yawning man to see if he had my shoes on his feet, but he was not on the bus, he had been left standing on the street.

Looking through the back window of the bus I couldn’t see what he had on his plates of meat, so I then took a seat and looked down in amazement at my feet.

All the way to my stop I tried to imagine how he’d managed to take my shoes off my feet, I thought it must have been a feat of magic that he’d performed.

And then it all came to an abrupt end, the ringing of my alarm clock in my ear woke me up from what seemed to be a dream, but things are not always what they seem.

As I usually keep my shoes at the foot of my bed I thought I’d check to see if they were still of the slip on variety, made of leather and the colour was red.

But instead they were lace ups, brown leather, all weathered with backs broken down and on the inside the left shoe there was a note that read:

“Thank you for giving me the shoes off your feet, although I would have preferred the shirt off your back, you believe you were in a dream because that’s how I made it seem, but it wasn’t because you have my shoes to prove it at the foot of your bed.

A nonsense poem by Stephen Austwick.