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Monday 4th July 2011
The riot van turns up
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I wouldn't normally go on about my dreams (would I?) but the memory of this one kept me up for ages, as I kind of pieced together the sequence of events and what it all meant, if anything. So, picture the scene . . . I'm the passenger in a transit van, and the driver's driving a bit erratically. I'm slightly worried, but not too much. We're coming up to a few of those chicane things that you get to reduce your speed and the driver just drives over them regardless; the suspension of the van doesn't seem bothered. I don't recognise where we all. We seem to approach Dalton Square (Lancaster) from an odd angle (kind of counter to the one-way system) and the driver's like, "Hey, this looks interesting," and seems to head the van towards a wall, but jumps out before the van comes to a complete halt. He jumps up on the wall, to get a better view of . . . something, and then disappears. So I'm like, "Erm, hello?" and run out of the transit van towards the Ashton Hall. Next thing I know, yeah, this police riot van pulls up beside me and this police officer, in full riot gear, knocks me to the floor. My face is pressed against the pavement and I try to explain that I'm unarmed but this is best achieved by slowly making my hands visible. The police officer seems satisfied by this but, nonetheless, stays besides me and explains that it's "for my protection." I'm told to stay down but manage to look up and check what on earth is going on. The people around me (civilians) are looking towards the sky and buildings with various firearms at the ready. People seem to be looking south, kind of expecting 'something', but I've no idea what. Time passes, but the riot van remains as does the police officer. I have to remain where I am. God knows how long this went on for, but I remember the police officer to my left took out a pack of cards and started playing solitaire. At around this point, I kind of woke up, but was really in some kind of half awake, half asleep limbo. Then I heard / sensed / felt this enormous explosion or crash from somewhere very distant. Then I was like, "What the hell?!" and it took me ages to get back to sleep, because I couldn't work out if that explosion-like sound was real or part of the dream. In reality, it was probably the neighbour's side-door slamming shut, Paul having returned from a late night pool session at The Stork.
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