Down the stairs

Dot writes: I had a creepy dream last night. It’s hard to tell coherently, but I know it started in a helicopter carrying Queen Hillary Clinton (!), which somehow I and my companions (Ken and…somebody else. Somebody who’s gone vague now) contrived to destroy. Then we had to flee the mob who wanted to get us for killing the queen, and we were running along a narrow path that might have been the remains of a railway track, but we knew they were after us, and we were dangerously exposed as the path was on a ridge line. So we scrambled off the ridge down the chalky hillside and found ourselves in the upper floor of a house. It was a very bare house, wooden floors and white walls and little furniture. There was a staircase leading down. I went down the stairs and found myself in a lower room. This had a door onto the staircase and another door onto a sort of lobby or corridor. From the lobby I went into another room, then another, then back to the lobby. But the door to the first room, which I’d definitely shut behind me, was now swinging open, and the door to the stairs had been split down the middle and half of it was lying on the floor.

I knew I was dreaming and I wanted to wake up before whatever happened that was waiting to happen. I was stamping my feet and trying to wake myself up, yet at the same time I didn’t want to make a noise for fear of the thing that was lurking somewhere. And also I didn’t know where I was going to wake up to; I couldn’t visualise my bed or remember where I was sleeping. But I think it must have worked at some level. I don’t think I actually woke up all the way, but I don’t remember any more of that particular dream.


5 thoughts on “Down the stairs

    1. kenanddot

      Yes, goodness knows where that came from. A friend dreamed on the same night that she’d assassinated Donald Trump, and I feel her subconscious is behaving better than mine.

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