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Prescient Dreams

peejam

Gone But Not Forgotten
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Jul 10, 2015
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Our childhood holidays were often taken in a seaside town in Devon. The laborious four-hundred mile car journey southwards tests the patience of anyone. Then throw four squabbling children into the mix, and you have a melting-pot of certain insanity. However, our mother had a trick up her sleeve. Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls would always be at hand – the unfortunately appellated hard-boiled sweets made in our hometown. Traditionally taken down with us as a gift for our nostalgic aunty.

Upon arriving at our aunty's house - because I was the eldest sibling (always a tenuous reason) - I was given a bedroom to myself. That night I lay there in the dark, unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was my uniquely irritating little brother’s face looking back at me. A scenario in which I would have normally either just left the room or hit him. Or hit him and then left the room. But there he was – his annoying visage intermittently pulsing on and off the back of my eyelids.

I simply couldn’t take it anymore.

He was in the next room, which he was sharing with our cousin.

So I went to go and hit him.

The landing light had been left on, and I as I opened the door, the gradual widening of the shaft of light elucidated more and more of the scene. The Red Dwarf, Super Mario and Thunderbirds posters that adorned the walls each took their turn in revealing themselves. And on the floor lay my brother.

Helplessly gasping in a fit of suffocation.

He had fallen asleep with an Uncle Joe’s Mint Ball in his mouth.

* * *

“Where’s your sister?” Asked my mother upon coming downstairs. She was ashen and shaking.

“What’s wrong?” I replied.

“I’ve just had the most awful dream. Your sister and her boyfriend were lying trapped in a heap of rubble. They were covered in concrete and bleeding.”

I sat down. I was ashen and shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Asked my mother.

I pointed towards the TV.

“She’s gone into Manchester.” I replied. “And the IRA have bombed the Arndale Centre.”

We spent the day standing at the large lounge window, our heads veiled by net curtains as we peered down our road, desperately willing them to appear. The news said there hadn’t been any fatalities.

Then there they were. Hand-in-hand, sauntering towards us. We ran down the street to greet them. They were bewildered. They hadn’t even heard about the bomb. They’d missed the train.

At exactly the same time that my mother was having her dream.

***

Also, will just add now that last night I dreamt the Pope died.
 
Thanks for asking; he was back to his usual self immediately.
 
Thanks for asking; he was back to his usual self immediately.

Thanks for replying, I felt a bit concerned there! Probably because one of the things my mother was stern about was not eating while lying down because of the danger of choking. I still wouldn't dare do it today!
 
The only time I ever had a prescient dream was years ago. One of our dogs had died about a month before, leaving us with a single dog. One night I had a dream that there were two dogs in our kitchen, the familiar one and a blue heeler puppy I didn't recognize. About 5 days later my Mum brought home the very same puppy, though she hadn't mentioned getting a new dog, let alone a blue heeler. Sadly I hadn't mentioned the dream to anyone before the event took place. Damn you subjective truths.
 
When I was a kid in the mid-eighties, I remember my mum having a conversation with her sister on the phone. My aunt had had a very vivid dream about an inferno at the Cadbury chocolate factory in Bournville. The next day, we turned on the TV after we had had tea and the picture tuned straight to a Central News reporter standing by a high factory wall with the Cadbury logo on it. There were fire engines in the background. It turned out there had been a fire, but not a big one. That was when the phone rang. It was my aunt. Straight away my mum said, 'I take it you've just seen the news?'
 
My mother in law used to go to Malaysia to visit her daughter and family who were living there at the time.
One night I dreamt she had bought me a stiff kind of batik handbag and sure enough when she came back she gave it to me.
 
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