I'm with the boy, upstairs in a giant space, house perhaps, a party. There's a painting on a wall and as I walk forward to it it animates and changes itself, like one of those postcards that flip between images when you tip them, only this painting is changing into many different things at once, every step forward bursts of colors grow and change...
I'm trying to show the boy, only he isn't seeing it, but he's very understanding, and when I take the final step towards the painting it breaks up, is no longer a painting, is instead a vase, a plant, a lamp...
"Flashbacks" I realize, and I'm intrigued, I'd heard, read, that they were a myth, but there's some novelty to this and I intend to enjoy them...
We're wandering through the top of the house, he meets some familiar acquaintance whom I recognize but don't know, his wife, I introduce the son and the man tells me "I know", the boy explains that he had dated his mother when he was young...
We're looking for a pub, walking over catwalks, looking into familiar old schoolyards, memories of forgotten dreams now remembered again and pasted together like a collage of imaginary landscapes, everywhere is familiar, but the arrangement is not, somewhere there's a pub...
I find a bathroom, looking at the toilet seat it's covered in holographic decals, I call in the boy to show him, they're not flashbacks, he merely appears, looks, gently pulls a couple of pieces of toilet paper and covers them up, he's gently patronizing me, not getting it and I still must be having flashbacks...