Graham Greene dreamed that the Queen was tucking into a bun. As Prince Philip approached in a scoutmaster's uniform, she confided to him that she couldn't bear her husband's smile. Nearly every sleeper in the land dreams about royalty some time or other, especially now, but Greene took the trouble to write down the details the moment he awoke. It's just one of a number of odd and disjointed little fragments in this selection. The dreams cover 20 years and are narrated as if they had really occurred. Psychoanalysts may revel in it, but for most of us it is only mildly interesting as a quaint curiosity. It adds nothing to Greene's stature to know that in his private world of fantasy the Cuban revolution was taken over by magnificent-looking suffragettes, or that he nearly killed Goebbels by thrusting the end of a poisoned cigarette into his nostril. There are no nightmares. Lucky man: maybe he never had one.