I go to the train station (like I do every morning) but today feels different.
I have a recurring dream in which a homeless man follows a trail of £50 notes down a darkened path. The dream ends when he is caught by a figure with a light for a head, and I only mention this because where that happens is where I stand right now.
The homeless man hid behind the ticket machine and I pay the fee and take my ticket out from its lips. I walk back to the bench and I see a penny – strange to re-enact the dream at a £49.99 loss – but they say its good luck so up goes the penny and up goes my wishes – and into the vending machine it goes, bad luck to hoard onto money they say, better to spend it, on this, red packet, of delightful crisps.
When the dream ends, another begins, and in the second dream there is a man who wears grey gloves and sits at the control panel in the front – cab – of the train. There are two piles of tickets on his metal desk, and he scans it with a KIND beep if it’s a good one, and a CRUEL beep if it’s a bad one.
I sit down on the bench and a man sits next to me. He tells me he’s the CEO of a leading beauty product company who specialise in washing-up liquid, detergent and bath bombs. He looks up – gestures to the heavens – shouts “VALENTINE TAKE ME AWAY!”
No, sorry, I haven’t seen those ads.
I’m an entrepreneur, I tell him. He tells me what’s inside his briefcase. “One hundred thousand pounds in cash” he says, he found it in a ditch. I can’t tell if he’s bluffing or not, that’s dirty cash, if worms could bleed it’d be blood money.
A second man replaces him and he’s more nervous than the last, he has a penny in his hand and its identical to the one that I just found. He pulls out a scratch card and rubs at it with the penny, he’s staring at me but I wish he wouldn’t. Each scratch – more exciting – than the last – and – when he reaches the last zone – yelps a childish squeal – did he really just win?
“TICKETS PLEASE!”
I hear the gruff voice of the ticket conductor who walks towards me and I take out my ticket to show him, he scans it with the black cuboid in his hand and it makes an awful sound.
“THIS TICKET IS INVALID” he says.
I tell him that this must be a mistake and I just bought the ticket and maybe I gave him the wrong one but he tells me, “YOU WILL HAVE TO LEAVE THE PREMISES”, so I counter with the classic: don’t you know who I am, I want to speak to whoever’s in charge, and he leads the way.
Inside the beige room is a desk and behind the desk sits a lady. I tell her that my train ticket isn’t valid and she tells me to sit down and wait for my call. There are three chairs and I sit down on the furthest one – could’ve picked a closer one – I stand up and sit down on the closest one – skipping the middle one – that feels much better, what an amazing feeling it is to wait for the electronic ring of an invisible buzzer and I walk to the desk to tell her again – she asks me what my name is and I tell her – she asks me what my postcode is and I tell her.
She says, “Yes, I see I’m sorry but there’s no way I can amend this but I can offer you a free ticket for the next bus – it’s much more scenic – and, by the way, did you ever hear this story, it was on the news a while back I think…
She tells me the story of a man who worked in his garage,
at the end of every day
nuts and bolts all over
his garage
but every morning it would all be back
perfectly placed
in their tiny little box
after two or three
months he set up cameras
to catch the culprit
and it turns out
it was a mouse who was doing it!
you never know when
a little mouse
has your back.
“Have a nice day, miss”
*
I am standing in the bus queue when I realise that the homeless man from my dreams is sitting right next to me – holding a duffel bag – like I don’t know what duffel bags contain, so I ask him if I can see the bag up-close. He grips the back tighter now, I realise that I need a change of plan, I ask him if he’s heard of this story which was on the news a while back?
The homeless man doesn’t seem to resonate with the story, I pivot and show him the bus ticket and tell him it’s a much more scenic route – more rewarding!
The homeless man doesn’t seem to be affected by my sales pitch, I pivot and show him my watch – he seems to like it.
I dangle it above him and walk further and further away and he gets up and follows – but he is still gripping the bag – so another change of plan and I put the watch on the floor and step back and wait for him to pick it up.
He drops the bag and walks to my watch, another successful day of marketing.
I look into the duffel bag and inside I see the bundles of bundles of £50 notes – exactly like in my dream, I walk back into the beige room and ask for a ticket.
“Sorry, but you’ll have to wait in line.”
I drop the bag of cash and take out notes, everybody has their price and I will find out hers, and it seems to be about two thousand pound sterling – petty change – I take my train ticket and wait at the platform edge.
“TICKETS, PLEASE” says the conductor, I give him my new ticket which receives the victorious beep.
“THANK YOU”, no, thank you.
I walk onto the train, it’s a first-class train with second-class seats, and it’s in these sorts of luxuries that you need to enjoy the moment – my bag of crisps – opened at last. A group of four well-dressed fellows stare at me with resentment, do they not know how I got this cash?
“tickets, please!”
There are always people to keep you in check and I should be thankful – I pull out my new ticket and the on-board conductor scans it – it’s the cruel beep again, “oh, that’s strange,” she says, but I pay no attention, I know my place – and she says “ i’m sure it’s fine, must be my machine playing up!”
It’s an amazing thing living in the present and why not eat my crisps and fall into the divine slumber.
“tickets, please!”
The on-board conductor is standing next to me again – what does she want – I tell her you’ve already ticketed me and I go back to the place of dreams.
“tickets, please!”
“Sorry?”
“tickets?”
“We’ve done this already!”
“what?”
“You’ve ticketed me twice now!”
*
It is hard to distinguish between the electricity of dreams and the electricity of not dreams, but where I am sitting right now is neither.
There are no passengers anymore and I look to the bag and there is no money and I hear the sounds of printing, paper, filing, ringing, cruel beeps and victorious beeps – I follow the sounds as I go down this aisle and I see the train – cab – door is a slight ajar, what will I find behind there, I can see him, I can see him behind the walls and he’s the one who is doing it, he is the man in control, the man from my dreams, the man who wears the grey gloves and sorts the pile and I hear the ringing again and I
Swing
The
Door
Open
To
See
*
£££££: She came from nothing. She made her millions before the age of twenty-five, and now she is the CEO of the world's most successful beauty company. We are here today with Valentine. How are you doing today?
Valentine: Oh I'm doing just great!
£££££: So, Valentine, you’re an inspiration to us all. Do you have any words of wisdom for us?
Valentine: You know, £££££, I’ve always believed, from the very beginning, that life is all about giving outwards. And what you will get in return will be twice fold.
£££££: Oh yes, that’s very interesting, and you do a lot of charity work too, isn’t that right?
Valentine: Yes, we have raised a lot of money for charities, and just last week I was helping out at a couple homeless shelters-
£££££: Unfortunately, we’re running out of time, but I think that it’s a better time than ever to talk about your new book-
Valentine: Yes, it’s called “Valentine, Take Me Away!” It’s an autobiography about my life, and it should be out now in stores near you!
£££££: Now that is wonderful, Valentine. Thanks for being on the show.
Valentine: Thanks for having me!