I dreamt about you last night. It was not remarkable or
extraordinary; You sent me to the local shops with a list of
groceries, And I ran along, hopscotching over the paving stones,
Eager to please you as always. Then I was at the corner of the
road On my way back, And you were getting into your car, I
remembered you’d been visiting us and now you were returning
home. You opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat In
slow motion. My brother was playing nearby, Someone else waved
you off from the front gate. I was looking on, Spectating dreamily
Like a proud God.

When I woke, Tears bled from
my eyes quietly.

What hurts the most is the unceremoniousness of it
all; You existed there so surely, so unexceptionally
fully, That I did not think to savour your presence.

Now I am awake, And you are melting away, Back into
the abyss of my subconscious, ordinary dreams, A
world where the fabric of time has splayed at its

For Cherwell, maintaining editorial independence is vital. We are run entirely by and for students. To ensure independence, we receive no funding from the University and are reliant on obtaining other income, such as advertisements. Due to the current global situation, such sources are being limited significantly and we anticipate a tough time ahead – for us and fellow student journalists across the country.

So, if you can, please consider donating. We really appreciate any support you’re able to provide; it’ll all go towards helping with our running costs. Even if you can't support us monetarily, please consider sharing articles with friends, families, colleagues - it all helps!

Thank you!