Dream
Dream. That's what it was. A dream. The junkyard, the police box, the old man, Susan. A dream. He would wake up and it would be over. No silly talk of space and fourth dimensions. It was a far-fetched dream.
It was dark. And rough. And wobbly. He had never had a dream so vivid before. He could hear voices, faint. A rasping, enormous sound covered them all.
Finally, the room stopped moving. He could feel herself come to. Wake up. He would be in his flat in England. Safe. In bed. Awake.
He opened his eyes. His stomach dropped.
