I dreamt I was sitting in a theatre waiting for Alex, his seat empty beside me. There was a couple, in seats much closer to the stage, having an argument. I couldn’t hear what they were saying and I could only see them from behind, but that was enough. He was wearing a cornflower blue shirt, his dark hair just resting on the collar, and his movements and gestures were Mediterranean. Why was he sitting with her? What were they arguing about?
I called to him but, while other people around me turned to me with disapproving shushes even though the show hadn’t yet started, he didn’t hear me. So I got out of my seat, edged my way past the people seated in our row, and made my way down to theirs. Except when I got to where I thought they were, I couldn’t find them.
‘Alex!’ I started calling in one of those not quite shouts we use when we only want to attract the attention of one person and not that of everyone else around them. As if it’s the human alternative to the kind of whistle that can only be heard by dogs. ‘Alex!’
There was no sign of him or his companion – who I wouldn’t have recognised anyway – but I kept on calling. More people were looking at me, tutting and muttering amongst themselves, but I didn’t care. I ran further down and scanned the faces, all the way to the front, even though I knew they hadn’t been that far down when I saw them. Not a sign of them.
I ran back up towards where my seat had been so I could look towards them and get my bearings again, but now I couldn’t find my seat either. The lights were starting to dim but I couldn’t stop running up that never ending aisle.