The first of these dreams was back in November.
In it I was stood on my street in South East London – not walking or jogging or anything else, just standing there on the road – when suddenly it was as if the sky ripped apart. The oxygen around me was pulled away and I could feel a sudden rush as I was lifted off my feet. Then, when I looked up, it was as if a jagged line had been wrought through the sky. In that dream the sky was blue (in the dreams I’ve had since, the weather is changeable – sometimes overcast, sometimes glorious – I have no idea why that is), and suddenly a black jagged scar had been torn across it. I say black, but it’s a darker colour than black (if that’s possible) and it seems to bleed fire. It’s like a fissure, an opening to somewhere else and through that opening is only flame and destruction.
All around me then is chaos – trees are falling, brickwork is crumbling and there are screams from every street in the vicinity. It all seems to get a lot faster as well, as if I know that these are the last seconds I will ever live and my senses heighten as if to appreciate every sensation which takes place in those very final moments.
I had that dream again last night (although this time the weather seemed autumnal) and once again the sky broke apart and trees and buildings collapsed around me.
This morning I went downstairs to go to work and found that the gales of last night had knocked over a tree on my road. The trunk is now blocking in the cars. But what makes it truly uncanny is that the tree has fallen in exactly the same position as it does in my dream.
As I said, I’ve seen a number of things in reality that were once solely in my dreams. The rational part of my brain says I should ignore them – but how can I?
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