Alimentary, My Dear Watson

We were beginning a trudge some distance for an unknown purpose, which is typical of dreamwalks. My two companions were hideous. I wanted to put distance between me and them. Several joined the walk at various times so we became a dozen or so. 

Arriving somewhere, one said, here we are. Some entered a structure, so I did also, then all the rest followed. We sat at a table where hot victuals sat and we all dug in. 

A tall gent moved in state through the dining room door. He stood straight and tall in his deputy uniform. I must arrest you, he said, for breaking and entering. 

That's actually redundant, said one, for you cannot enter without breaking. It's like a penalty for jumping up then down. The tall cop seemed not to hear. 

We stood and moved out in a bunch and the cop followed. It was one bizarre bust. 

Another building was designated the house of detention. We milled about, sat, if we liked. I didn't know we were going where we weren't authorized, I said. Neither did I, said all my companions in turn. We were a gaggle of ducks. 

There will be fines for stealing grub, said the deputy. It was my own home, he added. 

I wondered how tight was the deputy's security. I stood. Ambled to the wall. Browsed the wallpaper to the door. It was open. The deputy had forgotten to shut it. Stood there looking through, admiring the outside. Straggled out onto the porch, sat on a rocker. Waited. Stood, placed hands in pockets, stepped down to the yard, whistling. Pulled up grass and let it fall to test wind direction. My test carried me by stutter steps to the edge of the lawn. One step later was the street. Several steps in quick secession was up the street. 

Not very tight, I decided. And now I was free of my eerie companions as well. 

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