Last night I had the dream where I was stood on my street. It’s a cold day (is the temperature something I’ve only started noticing in these dreams, or was it there before? We are heading into summer in the UK – or what passes as summer – so is the temperature in anyway significant?) and I feel the wind licking my skin. Before I can remember being naked in this dream – but now I look down and see I am in shorts and T-shirt. I'm almost dressed for a run.
This dream has burnt through my mind so many times now, that I know exactly which part of the sky the fireball will trail across. I am forearmed and ready. Slowly at first but rapidly picking up speed, I start to run to where that fireball should land. The streets are eerily quiet – I am the only person anywhere on the streets of South London, and running with a wild sense of purpose makes me seem doubly out of place.
I run fast, scarper, getting to the main road in Surrey Quays and pointing myself in the direction of The City. The Gherkin is ahead. But no matter how fast I go, I am not fast enough. Suddenly the sky is ripped apart by that familiar red streak – I see it nearer than it’s ever been before – then there’s a boom and everything vanishes around me.
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