Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Thursday, March 29, 2018

In prison

In jail in NL (?) for not paying hospital bill. Finding my cell. Read a vague label. Can make out my name & name of hospital. So this really is it. It's rather cosy, cluttered. But I check further along the corridor to make sure this is it. Pass narrow way where prisoners are socialising. A bit worried they'll pick on me, but no - okay. One guy's jacket or jumper almost blocks the way. I get by but they are okay. A civilised kind of jail. (And I will only have three months to do. It's on my door label.) I want to take pictures for Facebook but guess it's not done to show other inmates. I will only show my own cell. Not as bad as I feared. Still, to be locked in is not good - scary.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Uninvited guests

The sound of a car sweeping by. Into the next empty room. I go in to investigate and there are a man and a woman looking around and a small child somewhere. I ask what they want. The man is very tall and stocky, whereas I seem to be far below, near the floor. He says something but I can't make out the words. I tell him I can't understand what he's saying. The woman takes a step forward. She is even bigger than him. The child whizzes by below, out of sight, with the noise of a car. She speaks to me but, again, I can't make out the words. Except the last one might be "religion". The man starts to speak again. I am getting a little agitated, because I don't know who they are or what they want here in my house. I say, "I can't understand a word you're saying!" Then, "I want you out of here now." I repeat it but they show no sign of going. So I call upstairs to my wife to phone the police. But my voice won't work right. I try again.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Demo

I went on a big demo with Dad. He's one of the leaders. On the way back there was a bit of argy-bargy and an obstreperous kid got hauled away. Back to our home in B-. It's crowded, with so many of the activists here. I think they've taken the interloper outside, and I'm worried they may have killed him. It's night already. I go out front to see what's happening and they are just in the process of launching a nuclear missile from the field outside our house into the city. The flames of its rocket engines fire in the dark. This, it goes without saying, is astonishing and beyond terrible.

I'm inside now, beside the wall in the crowded living room. I go out the back with my acquaintances, with my overcoat on. It's a sort of cul-de-sac with the back gardens around it, and it is crowded here too. Police are arriving to look for the missing kid, a youth really. I say I'm worried I will be mistaken for my father and blamed by the crowd. "I'll be lynched." In the distance the city is a conflagration, with fires everywhere, but the police arriving have not seen it, as they're coming from that direction and facing this way. People try to tell them about the nuclear attack, but they are officious and insist they must follow-up their search for the kid, one thing at a time.

But they soon realise they must investigate the source of the nuclear missile, as people are telling them it came from in front of my house. We go inside, and I feel I must tell them about the murdered kid, as I think it's only right, and anyway, it would be worse for my Dad to be blamed for the nuclear missile. Nobody knows where the kid is. They've got Dad in handcuffs now. I don't feel I have done anything wrong, but I'm not feeling righteous, it's just something I had to tell them. He's brought it on himself.

But now the floor of the room is flooded about a foot deep. Everyone else has gone. Somehow they drain it. I don't know what's happening. The floorboards are lifted. It's not the kid. There are what looks like two sacks there, possibly the size of a big person and a smaller one but they're shapeless, so it's not certain, it might be something else. I am seized with anxiety and guilt.

Monday, March 05, 2018

On a balcony

Getting to the place is alright, it's finding the way back afterwards that's difficult. I see a station down that way and set out. But I've gone down the wrong side somehow and now I've lost sight of it. And I've forgotten my phone, so I can't check maps. The further I walk, the bigger the streets. This is a big city, I know. Office blocks, etc, vast expanses everywhere I look, but no sign of a station. I am totally lost.

It's later. Running, we leap into a sort of silo, as big as a huge barn, half filled with whatever. We go out onto a little outside balcony on the opposite wall above the huge pit. It's barred above with giant beer pump handles. Dad doesn't have a care, chatting away. I can jump and pull one of the giant handles down a bit but that's not going to get us out of here. Dad is in a good mood, talking and, in that way of his, making himself laugh, while I realise we're never going to get out of here.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

The twilight zone

Up in the office block. Briefcase? To the top floor to get something that's mine, while the boss is not around. Was that a sound, is he here? To get away, go out and back to the past.

The woman in a big dress tags along with the others. I wish she wouldn't. At last she has drifted away, I can see her float down the landings. This building is mostly glass.

There's nobody else on the stairs or in the corridors in this block. I wonder if there is anyone inside one of the doors, as we reach the end of the corridor where my apartment is. The others are still just behind.

The apartment is modern, spacious, open plan, minimal. There is a small saucepan sizzling on the electric hob. Further on in, another identical little saucepan, steaming, boiling. And there's another one ahead on the next worktop too.

I realise that no one else I know is here, no one else can be here, because this is the past and they've all gone. Everyone else is in the future.

But the ones who tagged along came into to the apartment behind me. I point at them. My speech is feeble, so I strain to raise it, but it's rough and fluctuates. I say, "You are in the twilight zone."