Thursday. Julian hated Thursdays. The recollection of that fact faded into Julian's train of thought somewhere between his alarm clock going off for the fourth time, him suddenly realising that he should have been out of bed an hour ago, and his scrambling dash out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

It was during brushing his teeth, while trying to reshuffle his travel plans into work to figure out how late he would be, that he remembered his usual commuting route wasn't viable due to engineering works on the underground rail system. That little inconvenience would cost him another good few minutes while he took the longer route into the city. Then, while putting his suit on, he realised how hungry he was and how much he was going to miss having breakfast this morning due to his slightly overextended stop in Dreamland. His grumbling stomach did its best to underline this fact.

The memory of the Silverline Fisheries marketing project he was working on didn't surface until he rushed downstairs and retrieved his umbrella; the pattering sound on the windows indicated that it would be getting some use today. He winced at the thought - being thrown into the tanks at that place and being eaten alive by the fish within seemed like a more entertaining prospect than working even another day on that project.

Opening the front door and seeing the dense wall of water streaming from the clouds confirmed Julian's suspicions about the umbrella. He cursed under his breath and stepped out of the door, and it was only at that point that, finally, the dream he had been woken up from crashed back into his mind, like a speeding freight train through a brick wall.

**********

The skyscrapers had towered into the sky, almost appearing to curve inwards as they rose, like some fisheye lens over an Escher masterpiece gone mad. Silvered mirror windows along their length, casting myriad reflections of the swirling purple-green sky against each other. It was a city turned into a twisted hall of mirrors.

Of course, as weird as it seemed to the conscious observer, to the dreamer this was perfectly normal. Julian wasn't even paying particular attention to his surroundings as he cocked his blue and silver water pistols. The invasion of the marshmallow aliens had reached the city, and he was one of the last remaining resistance members. It was do or die, and he had no intention of dying just yet.

The strange squawking noise of the aliens echoed around the corner of the building and Julian pressed himself up against the corner of the building, the cold of the mirrored walls seeping through his ripped jeans and t-shirt. He raised his pistols to his side and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Watching the reflections in the opposite building, Julian saw the aliens approach. There were a lot of them, probably a good ten, maybe twenty of them, white sugary armour glistening in the multi-coloured sunlight. The few seconds it took for them to come into range felt like an eternity, watching the reflection of their strange humanoid forms in the mirrors. Somehow they failed to see Julian, but he wasn't worrying about that. He had already decided which one would die first.

Julian picked his moment and sprang from his hiding spot, cartwheeling through the air and firing both pistols simultaneously before he even landed in the open street, like some scene from a blockbuster action movie, streams of deadly orange squash striking two marshmallow aliens square in the chest and dissolving holes through their sugar-filled forms. The horrific wailing screech of dying marshmallow echoed between the buildings as they fell, but Julian paid no notice. He was already firing more orange squash, felling alien after alien and dissolving them into nothing more than sugar solution.

The aliens finally responded, drawing weapons of their own and firing at the lone attacker. Julian found himself dodging volley after volley of sugar crystal arrows, still firing as he cut a swathe through his opponents. Finally, only one alien remained. Julian and the alien aimed at each other and fired, and at that moment everything felt as if it occurred in slow motion. The stream of orange liquid slewed across the alien, cutting through it, but at the same moment Julian was struck by the crystal dart, square in the chest. He recoiled, feeling the impact, and looked down to where the injury should have been. There was none.

There was no time to think, though, as the sound of more aliens approaching filled Julian's ears. He looked up to see hundreds of marshmallow humanoids, some normal, some tall, and some towering giants, marching down the street towards him, stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Summing up the situation, Julian took the appropriate action; he ran.

The aliens kept up with Julian as he ran, despite the fact that they never seemed to do anything more than march at the same constant speed. Endless rows of mirrored buildings passed by, and Julian began to feel more and more trapped, like he was in a cage, slowly constricting around him. Panic set in and he ran faster and faster, throwing his pistols to the ground as the squawking language of the marshmallow aliens became ever louder.

Rounding yet another corner, after what seemed like hours of running, Julian suddenly found himself confronted by what looked like a giant lemon, towering in front of him. Coming to a grinding halt, feet skidding along the ground, Julian looked up at the impossible fruit, and in a moment of incredible clarity suddenly realised that the caged feeling had gone, as had the sound of the marshmallow aliens. Looking around, he saw that his pursuers had disappeared, leaving him and the lemon alone in the weird city.

A rumbling sound drew his gaze back round to the lemon, and he prepared to run, though his ragged breathing and the exhaustion sweeping him suggested he wouldn't get far if he did. As he watched, the lemon seemed to somehow evolve a face, features rising out of the yellow surface. Two golden eyes regarded him coolly, and a giant mouth opened to speak.

"You ar-beep-beep-beep-beep..." the lemon remarked. Julian tried to make sense of the beeping language as it continued, and he suddenly felt very distant and removed from the whole scene.

That was when he awoke, the beeping sound of his alarm clock finally getting through at the fourth attempt and dragging him from his slumber.

**********

The memory of the dream seemed to flash through Julian's memory in a mere second as he stepped through his front door, and he almost stumbled with the surprise, but managed to catch himself. The shock of the memory lingered for a few more seconds, and with a whispered curse Julian realised he was stood in the pouring rain, newly dry cleaned suit slowly being soaked. Casting the memory to one side, Julian threw up his umbrella and fished his keys from the pocket of his suit, using them to lock his front door and heading off to face the nightmare of a commute that awaited him.

**********

An hour and a broken down train later, Julian stood in the shadow of one of the skyscrapers in the city centre. Walking by, he tried not to remember the towering mirrored buildings from his dream, the memory of which still refused to be put aside.

Taking down his umbrella and giving it a shake, Julian ventured from the harsh weather outdoors to the reception area of his company, Brushstroke Productions, a marketing firm. Recently they had taken on the job of promoting the produce from Silverline Fisheries, a project that Julian had found himself responsible for, and which was threatening to push him further into the realms of insanity than he ever wanted to explore. The owner was an arrogant idiot, the company was probably months from bankruptcy, if not weeks, and the only-

"Julian!" The voice of his manager cut right through Julian's thoughts. Damn, he had hoped to get at least as far as his desk before getting tracked down. But then, given his current luck, he figured getting caught in reception was about right.

Julian turned, his umbrella dripping slightly on to the marbled floor. Craig was striding over to him, dressed as usual in his sharply cut black suit, exuding the authority that he held from every stitch, even if his short dark hair was typically over-gelled. Julian tried to recover the fragments of his shattered composure and smiled. "Craig, morning! Sorry I'm late. I overslept, and then the trains were a mess, and-"

Craig waved a hand, dismissing Julian's apology. "Don't worry about it, it happens." Julian began to breathe a mental sigh of release, but it was cut short when Craig followed up with, "I'm more interested to know the current status of the Silverline project. How's it coming?"

Thoughts racing, Julian stumbled over his answer as he walked with Craig to the elevator. "Well, we've been working through the initial propositions. Silverline came back to us with some issues, so we're redesigning some of the ideas we had to better fit their requirements."

Craig allowed himself a quiet chuckle as they came to a halt by the elevator doors. Julian pressed the call button. "So, Julian, what you're saying is that they're still not happy. Isn't this the third time they've sent back your initial propositions?"

Julian sighed, willing the elevator to arrive more quickly. "Yes, well, the fourth, actually. We're working on it, but it just seems that every time we adapt to Silverline's requirements, their manager wakes up with a brand new idea for spearheading the 'future of marketing as we know it'." Julian spread his arms a little in exasperation. "To be honest, I'm not sure why they hired us, that guy seems to have his own ideas, which change every day, and he's not willing to stop on any one concept."

"Sounds like a tough job you have there, but I know you have some good ideas." Craig nodded as the elevator bell rang and the doors opened. Julian stepped inside and turned around to look at Craig, who didn't follow. He pressed the button for the second floor. "You just have to use diplomacy and persuasion to get your point across. Don't let them reject your next proposals."

Julian nodded graciously at the advice, hearing the hidden warning within. The doors closed, leaving Julian alone in the elevator. He waited for it to start its ascent, and then cursed under his breath again. His umbrella dripped on to the elevator floor in sympathy.

**********

The elevator doors opened again on to the second floor office that Julian worked in. It was open plan, desks and computers all lined up in orderly fashion out from the elevator in the centre of the floor, to the wide windows at the edge, beyond which could be seen the dreary grey cityscape where the rain was still pouring.

Most of the desks were now occupied by Julian's co-workers, many of which were working with him on the Silverline project. Most were busy staring their computer screens, some were walking around the office looking busy, and a few were queuing up at the coffee machine waiting to receive their usual coffee fix.

Julian made his way across the office to his desk, steeped in papers and proposal sketches. He carefully put his umbrella into the rack next to his desk to dry and hung his jacket on the back of his chair. Pressing the power button on his computer, which had somehow resisted the growing tide of books and paper, Julian sank into his chair and tried to gather his thoughts. He didn't get the chance.

"Morning, boss." Alice's cheery voice penetrated Julian's train of thought and he looked up at her, swivelling his chair to face the side of the desk she stood at. Her long blonde hair framed her friendly face as she looked down to him, her eyes sharp and clear as she did. Julian always felt as if she was almost looking through him, seeing his every thought. He wondered if others felt that way too. He did his best to smile. Alice grinned, seeing through his façade. "Tough morning, huh?"

Julian sighed and nodded, rubbing his forehead tiredly with a palm. "Yeah, you could say that," he mused. Pausing, he shook his head, and then spoke more directly to her. "No time for that, though. Craig's been on to me this morning. We've got to make this revision stick."

Alice laughed quietly. "If that bunch of wannabe fishermen ever agree to anything we present to them, I'll personally pay for the celebratory drinks for the whole team." She lowered herself to Julian's level and said, more quietly. "Seriously, they're never going to accept anything we propose to them."

Casting a wishful glance to the drinks machine, Julian shrugged. "Well, I agree, but that just became unacceptable, judging from the conversation I've just had with Craig. We've got to convince them that our next pitch is the one they want. No, the one they need."

Alice rose again from her leaned over position and looked over to the drinks machine. "Well, we'll do our best, as always, but I'm glad I'm not the one leading this project."

"No, that would be me." Julian sighed again, wistfully.

"Yes, it would." Alice paused. "Black, two sugars?"

"Thanks, yeah," Julian turned and went back to his computer, looking forward to tasting coffee for the first time that morning.

**********

The route to lunchtime was a slow one. Julian struggled, with Alice and the rest of his team, to come up with a proposal based on the new requirements from Silverline that might have a hope of being accepted. The work was tough, and there were a number of disagreements; the frustration that Julian felt was obviously shared by the whole team, and the signs of stress were starting to show in some cases. By the time lunchtime rolled around, Julian was relieved to be able to let the whole thing lie for an hour.

Just a few doors down from the building Julian worked in was a bar named 'The Angel's Rest', affectionately known by locals as 'The Angel'. In sharp contrast to the other buildings in the area, both tall and small, the Angel had been built to look a little more old-fashioned, specifically to be a bar. The less technological look, compared to the surroundings, made it an inviting place to take breaks away from the modern workplace. It was like an island of calm in a sea of rapid progression and business. It was here Julian spent his lunch breaks, usually with Alice and sometimes some of his other co-workers.

The inside of the Angel was spacious and very nicely decorated, with traditional public house values. Dark wood throughout, tables scattered in a barely ordered fashion with dark leather seating around the walls. A fruit machine flashed on its own in the corner, hoping to attract the coins of those foolish enough to try their luck. Windows were regularly spaced around the walls, but they were all frosted, and sometimes coloured, so the workers didn't have to spend their time looking out at the modern nightmare that haunted the rest of their days. The bar itself was at the back of the room, in full sight of the front door, with a few chairs for anyone not wanting to be separated from the source of their drinks.

Julian sat on one of chairs at the bar, nursing a coke and looking at the racks of wines and more exotic spirits on display behind it. He didn't usually drink, but given the chaos and stress of the morning, he wondered if it might be a good time to consider drinking a little more. He dismissed the thought idly.

Sat by him, holding her usual gin and tonic, was Alice. She regarded Julian with a curious expression and took a sip of her drink. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Brought suddenly back to reality, Julian turned to his friend and smiled. "I've got a question for you," he said. "A hypothetical one."

Alice grinned, a certain playful light in her eyes that Julian recognised as a sign that her wit was about to make an appearance. "Sure, Julian. Just remember it's customary not to ask me for my hand in marriage until after the first date."

"Yeah, yeah," was the most graceful retort Julian could come up with. "Look... what would you say if, hypothetically, a friend of yours said he was having dreams about fighting the alien marshmallow army and having conversations with a giant lemon?"

The question stunned even Alice for a few seconds. She took another sip of her drink and put the glass down on the bar. Julian saw the light in her eyes again. "I need some paper and a pen."

Julian looked at her suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because I know a great psychologist that could help your 'friend', and I want to write you the number." Alice chuckled and picked her glass up again. "You're not serious, right?"

"I couldn't make that kind of thing up, Alice." Julian half-smiled and took a large swig of his coke.

"I guess not. Stress from the Silverline project getting to you?"

Julian considered this. "I think maybe. It has been pretty tough."

"Too true," Alice finished her gin and tonic, put the glass down, and regarded Julian quietly for a moment. "Hey, don't worry. You've got a good team here, we'll make this one stick."

"Yeah, you're right." Julian took one last mouthful to finish his drink and indicated his watch. "Speaking of which, we'd best be getting back."

Alice nodded. "Come on then, soldier. Let's go teach those marshmallows who's boss around here."

"Only if you bring the orange squash," Julian grinned and stood from his chair. Alice turned to speak, the obvious question on her lips, but he didn't give her the chance. "Don't ask." With that, the pair started the short walk back to the office.

**********

The afternoon passed about as pleasantly as the morning for Julian. More meetings, more disagreements, and more wondering whether this project would ever come to fruition. Behind the office windows the sun set behind the towering cityscape, leaving the sky a dimming blue-orange colour. Julian didn't notice, being too absorbed in his work to notice anything outside. His whole world contained little more than marketing proposals, a distinct dislike for anything fisheries related, and more black coffee than any one person should have been able to stand.

"Well, I'm done for the day." Alice proclaimed tiredly as she walked up to Julian's desk, wearing her outdoor coat and pulling on a pair of woollen gloves. She placed a hand on his desk and leaned over slightly, waiting for his reply.

Julian took a moment to notice, staring at a set of draft sketch of their latest ideas. "What? Oh, Alice. Is it that late already?" He looked around, realising for the first time that the office was nearly empty, save for a few cleaners and the pair of them, and silent but for the constant whirr of computer fans. The falling darkness outside also finally entered the realm of his perception.

Alice smirked and nodded slightly. "Six o'clock, Julian. Everyone else started to filter out an hour ago. Heck, you must really be losing yourself in this project." Her expression melted into one of genuine concern. "You sure you're not overdoing it?"

Putting the sketch down to one side, Julian rubbed his eyes tiredly with both hands and sighed. "We've got to make sure they accept this time."

"Yes, we do," Alice agreed. "But it's not worth running yourself into the ground over. If you tire yourself out with this, you'll be in no shape to persuade water to run downhill, never mind convince Silverline to accept out next set of proposals."

"You're right, you're right," Julian raised his hands to either side in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, I'll finish up here and head home."

"Attaboy, Julian." Alice grinned, tapping her hand on the desk a couple of times. "You'll thank me for it eventually."

"I know," Julian send resignedly. He turned back on his chair and started to close windows down on his computer screen, clearing up and saving his work. "I'll see you in the morning, right?"

Alice nodded behind Julian's back, speaking as she walked across the office to the elevator and pressed the call button. "Yeah. And remember this time, you start work at nine, right?"

Julian waved a hand in the air, sensing the mischevious tone in her voice and deciding not to take the bait this time. "Goodnight, Alice."

The elevator doors pinged as they shut, leaving Julian alone with the cleaners and the sketches strewn over his desk. He picked the closest one and looked at it with mild disdain. It pictured a roughly drawn fisherman standing on a riverbank, the landscape looking every bit like the most perfectly beautiful traditional rural location you could imagine. Or, at least, the most perfectly beautiful traditionally rural locating rendered in rough grey pencil strokes. The fisherman held a fishing rod in both hands, line trailing into the water, with radiant lines on either side, supposedly indicating that the line was glowing silver. Shadows in the water indicated the river teamed with fish.

"A Silverline for a Silverfish," Julian read out loud the caption at the bottom of the sketch. He tossed the sketch back down on the pile with some disgust and frowned. "Who on earth came up with that stupid idea?"

Then the realisation hit; it had been him, about three hours previously. He sighed again and muttered to himself. "Alice is right, I'm overdoing it." He pressed the power button on his computer, waited for it to shut down, collected his jacket and umbrella, and crossed the office to call the elevator and head home for the day.