From a child to a man, from a man to a child, ghosts have haunted this space as dreams.

Washings will not remove them, neither even when the bed is renewed will they go. The frame has changed and the mattress too, yet each has inherited Timeghosts, in the part that lies beneath unseen. Like junk DNA, what use are they?

They occupy the frame and lie in the space within. They move alongside me. They surround me in the deep but only surface briefly, as monsters lurking, to leave a wake that disappears on waking.

Each bead of sweat absorbed, each tear permeated into the pillow adds one more drop of memory to its repository.

They travel with me, as memories travel unseen over generations.

Words, ideas, images, symbols, archetypes, distorted recollections of events that manifest themselves collectively within the ocean that surrounds as weird and wonderful creatures living within the depths of this unconscious sea.

Near the surface they are familiar. Some are even friendly. Some glide like sharks scavenging at will, some even briefly bask upon rocks. But in the dark below lie the bizarre, those that leave no mark and make no sound other than the clicking of strange electricity. Water snakes, manta rays and eels, some designed by God on an ‘off-day’ lie in shadows or under the sand to grab or stun others passing near. Black holes that manifest themselves only by any absence of life, all sucked up. What use are they to man or beast?

Yet some are beautiful. They glide effortlessly within the debris of shipwrecks, within the coral reefs and seaweed undergrowth; fantastic imaginings, wondrous luminescent shapes that swim in shoals and move together as one, communicating by ESP; and those with iridescent colours, sheer artistry.

Even sometimes mermaids tempt and with their teasing tricks seduce.