Read the extract from a novel and choose the right answer to complete each statement When I was quite small, I would sometimes dream of a city. This was strange because it began before I even knew what a city was, but this city, clustered on a curve of a big blue bay, would come into my mind. I could see the streets, and the buildings that lined them, the waterfront, even boats in the harbour; yet, on waking, I had never seen the sea, or a boat ... and the buildings were quite unlike any I knew. The traffic in the streets was strange, carts running with no horses to pull them; and sometimes there were things in the sky, shiny fish-shaped things that were certainly not birds. Most often, I would see this wonderful place by daylight, but occasionally it was by night when the lights lay like strings of glow-worms along the shore, and a few of them seemed to be sparks drifting on the water, or in the air. It was a beautiful, fascinating place, and once, when I was still young enough to know no better, I asked my eldest sister, Mary, where this lovely city could be. She shook her head, and told me that there was no such place — not now. But perhaps, she suggested, I could somehow be dreaming about times long ago. Dreams were funny things, and there was no accounting for them; so it might be that what I was seeing was a bit of the world as it had been once upon a time — the wonderful world that the Old People had lived in; as it had been before the trouble. But after that she went on to warn me very seriously not to mention it to anyone else; other people, as far as she knew, did not have such pictures in their heads, either sleeping or waking, so it would be unwise to mention them.That was good advice, and luckily I had the sense to take it. People in our district had a very sharp eye for the odd, or the unusual, so that even my left-handedness caused slight disapproval. So, at that time, and for some years afterwards, I did not mention it to anyone — indeed, I almost forgot about it, for as I grew older the dream came less frequently, and then very rarely. But the advice stuck. Without it I might have mentioned the curious understanding I had with my cousin Rosalind, and that would certainly have led us both into very grave trouble — if anyone had happened to believe me. Neither I nor she, I think, paid much attention to it at that time: we simply had the habit of caution. I certainly did not feel unusual. I was a normal little boy, growing up in a normal way, taking the ways of the world about me for granted. And I kept on like that until the day I met Sophie. Even then, the difference was not immediate. It is hindsight that enables me to fix that as the day when my first small doubts started to germinate. That day I had gone off by myself, as I often did. I was, I suppose, nearly 10 years old. My next sister, Sarah, was five years older, and the gap meant that I played a great deal alone. I had made my way down the cart track to the south, along the borders of several fields until I came to the high bank, and then along the top of the bank for quite a way. The bank was no puzzle to me then: it was far too big for me to think of as a thing that men could have built, nor had it ever occurred to me to connect it with the wondrous doings of the Old People whom I sometimes heard about. It was simply the bank, coming around in a wide curve, and then running straight as an arrow towards the distant hills; just a part of the world, and no more to be wondered at than the river, the sky, or the hills themselves. When he was young, the writer dreamt about an unusual place every night. a city with unusual animals. a place he had no knowledge of. a busy seaside resort. The city lights at night were arranged in lines. floated in the sea. impressed the writer. appeared in the sky. The writer uses the phrase 'no accounting for them' (paragraph 3) to show that he regretted telling his sister about his dreams. he could find no explanation for his dreams. he believed that his dreams were true. he found his dreams to be very amusing. The writer approved of his sister's advice because it made him forget about his dream immediately. where he lived the people liked to be out of the ordinary. the locals were suspicious of people who were different. it stopped him from having his dream all the time. The writer first began to question his views when he confided in his cousin Rosalind. he and Rosalind did something wrong. a girl called Sophie entered his life. he realised people thought he was lying. The writer went to the bank on his own because he enjoyed his own company. he was old enough to go out alone. he didn't want anyone to go with him. he had no one else to play with. The impression that the writer had of the bank as a child was that it was a very mysterious place. there was nothing remarkable about it. it could only have been man-made. it had to be linked to the Old People.
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Read the extract from a novel and choose the right answer to complete each statement

When I was quite small, I would sometimes dream of acity. This was strange because it began before I even knewwhat a city was, but this city, clustered on a curve of a bigblue bay, would come into my mind. I could see the streets,and the buildings that lined them, the waterfront, even boatsin the harbour; yet, on waking, I had never seen the sea, ora boat ... and the buildings were quite unlike any I knew. Thetraffic in the streets was strange, carts running with no horsesto pull them; and sometimes there were things in the sky,shiny fish-shaped things that were certainly not birds.

Most often, I would see this wonderful place by daylight,but occasionally it was by night when the lights lay likestrings of glow-worms along the shore, and a few of themseemed to be sparks drifting on the water, or in the air. It wasa beautiful, fascinating place, and once, when I was stillyoung enough to know no better, I asked my eldest sister,Mary, where this lovely city could be.

She shook her head, and told me that there was no suchplace — not now. But perhaps, she suggested, I couldsomehow be dreaming about times long ago. Dreams werefunny things, and there was no accounting for them; so itmight be that what I was seeing was a bit of the world as ithad been once upon a time — the wonderful world that theOld People had lived in; as it had been before the trouble.

But after that she went on to warn me very seriously notto mention it to anyone else; other people, as far as sheknew, did not have such pictures in their heads, eithersleeping or waking, so it would be unwise to mentionthem.That was good advice, and luckily I had the sense totake it. People in our district had a very sharp eye for the odd,or the unusual, so that even my left-handedness causedslight disapproval. So, at that time, and for some yearsafterwards, I did not mention it to anyone — indeed, I almostforgot about it, for as I grew older the dream came lessfrequently, and then very rarely.

But the advice stuck. Without it I might have mentionedthe curious understanding I had with my cousin Rosalind,and that would certainly have led us both into very gravetrouble — if anyone had happened to believe me. Neither Inor she, I think, paid much attention to it at that time: wesimply had the habit of caution. I certainly did not feelunusual. I was a normal little boy, growing up in a normalway, taking the ways of the world about me for granted. AndI kept on like that until the day I met Sophie. Even then, thedifference was not immediate. It is hindsight that enables meto fix that as the day when my first small doubts started togerminate.

That day I had gone off by myself, as I often did. I was, Isuppose, nearly 10 years old. My next sister, Sarah, was fiveyears older, and the gap meant that I played a great dealalone. I had made my way down the cart track to the south,along the borders of several fields until I came to the highbank, and then along the top of the bank for quite a way.

The bank was no puzzle to me then: it was far too big forme to think of as a thing that men could have built, nor hadit ever occurred to me to connect it with the wondrousdoings of the Old People whom I sometimes heard about. Itwas simply the bank, coming around in a wide curve, andthen running straight as an arrow towards the distant hills;just a part of the world, and no more to be wondered at thanthe river, the sky, or the hills themselves.

When he was young, the writer dreamt about

  • an unusual place every night.
  • a city with unusual animals.
  • a place he had no knowledge of.
  • a busy seaside resort.

The city lights at night

  • were arranged in lines.
  • floated in the sea.
  • impressed the writer.
  • appeared in the sky.

The writer uses the phrase 'no accounting for them' (paragraph 3) to show that

  • he regretted telling his sister about his dreams.
  • he could find no explanation for his dreams.
  • he believed that his dreams were true.
  • he found his dreams to be very amusing.

The writer approved of his sister's advice because

  • it made him forget about his dream immediately.
  • where he lived the people liked to be out of the ordinary.
  • the locals were suspicious of people who were different.
  • it stopped him from having his dream all the time.

The writer first began to question his views when

  • he confided in his cousin Rosalind.
  • he and Rosalind did something wrong.
  • a girl called Sophie entered his life.
  • he realised people thought he was lying.

The writer went to the bank on his own because

  • he enjoyed his own company.
  • he was old enough to go out alone.
  • he didn't want anyone to go with him.
  • he had no one else to play with.

The impression that the writer had of the bank as a child was that

  • it was a very mysterious place.
  • there was nothing remarkable about it.
  • it could only have been man-made.
  • it had to be linked to the Old People.

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