It is not often I burst into tears when receiving a gift, but that is what happened on Christmas when I opened one of Mark’s presents.
First he explained that it had been a small odyssey finding this gift. He had been looking for it for years, and recently found it on two on-line catalogues in Australia; but his orders were cancelled in both cases because they didn't have the item in stock. Finally he bought it from an eBay merchant in the States, who sent it by express post to ensure arrival before Christmas (it arrived on Christmas Eve). After all that effort, Mark hoped that I would like it, but he didn't expect me to cry. He knew, at that moment, that it had all been worth it.

“Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly... Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man."  Zhuangzi

The clock radio goes off at 5.30 a.m., in the middle of the weather report. It snatches Jake out of the depths of sleep with predictions of another cold, cloudy winter’s day with intermittent showers. With eyes tightly shut, he hits the “off” button and tries, in vain, to catch the tail of his unfinished dream. It had been a good dream, a pleasant dream, but apart from that, he can’t remember anything about it now that it’s gone.