A dream of Friday

My son is back home after a 4 day Blackpool extravaganza with his grandparents. He is restless in bed, flopping and wrestling with the covers. In the other room my daughter is asleep as the end to her first full week in work takes its toll.
There are noises. Music and loud party voices filling the street outside like mist. The odd passing car the sound of a seashell held to the ear. Rain and then a sudden approaching rotor blade sound of a helicopter somewhere in the sky above. It is 4.08 am.
I get up and look out the window. Sure enough a party is in full carousal across the street. It is raining. A helicopter seeks out some emergency.
Back in bed I drift off. I am looking out my window again and there she is far away on the street going to that wee shop she always goes to. I notice that some of the cobbles on the street have been arranged to spell out the names of people. She is the woman I was infatuated with as a teenager working in a factory in Greenock and I must go down to meet her.
On the way down I pass a man I know from this time in my life. He greets me first. I perfunctorily reply. On the street I know a shortcut to the shop where she is headed and take it only to find that the building where the shop should be is derelict. Dangerously derelict. My stomach knots in fear.
Then the music is there again, the loud voices and my son boaking into a plastic bag. He must have picked up some bug. Rain on the street. My daughter stirring for her first TGIF of her life.
I am up and head out with her where she is to catch her train. My son rests. I leave her at the train station and take the river route back home and suddenly there, right there, is the dreaming sky and the derelict building.