“I was having an awful dream,” he said. “Oh?” “Yes. I’d found a jar of honey . . . ,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “What’s awful about that?” I asked. “It kept moving,” said Pooh. “They’re not supposed to do that. They’re supposed to sit still.” “Yes, I know.” “But whenever I reached for it, this jar of honey would sort of go somewhere else.” “A nightmare,” I said. “Lots of people have dreams like that,” I added reassuringly. “Oh,” said Pooh. “About Unreachable jars of honey?” “About the same sort of thing,” I said. “That’s not unusual. The odd thing, though, is that some people live like that.”
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