We were quiet in each other’s company. I wondered what his last, and most recent nightmare was about. He had tattoos all over.

It had been long enough in silence, that we both felt a bond. A connection, assurance that only depth, and curiosity would break the spell.

“My last dream was about a ticket inspector, who was always having nightmares – imagining himself parking his car somewhere, only to rerun later to find that he’d given himself a ticket”.

That’s a heck of a dream, I said.

I mused over the coincidence, our minds running in parallel thought.

And then he snipped the top of my ear.