AgProv
Doctor of Disorientation Studies, UnseenUniversity
- Joined
- Apr 6, 2014
- Messages
- 1,330
- Location
- too North to be Midlands, too south to be North
Here's an interesting one from last night (26th - 27th Nov 2020).
Roughly 8:00am on a day off from work. so I wanted to enjoy a lie-in. Bladder was just full enough to be uncomfortable but the rest of me simply didn't want to get out of bed. You know how it is. So the casting vote was my brain drifting off into sleep again, but the sort of light sleep that can be disturbed in a second. I remember being awoken in the night by hearing birds singing outside the house but thought - three in the morning? Birdsong? and was baffled. (something hypnogogic?)
Anyway, the early morning dream on 27/11. I was in a bus station somewhere. It wasn't Stockport, but might have been elsewhere in Greater Manchester; association was Bolton or Bury. It felt like Bury, visually: the view through the glass walls behind the bus shelter looked like Bury's metro/rail station, which places the location. .
In the dream I was one of two people who were in the company of a man with a gun. We weren't hostages exactly - I had the feeling the gunman regarded us as accomplices, or else as people who were not opposed to him. He was telling us exactly what he proposed to do in a few moments as if we were sympathetic to his motives - I get the feeling we were to be left alive to explain his reasons to the world.
The gunman was middle twenties, dressed in dark clothing, was white British, blonde-brown short-cut hair, dark glasses. He was leaning on a metal dividing barrier in the bus station, looked pretty relaxed, and the visible weapon was a large assault rifle he was holding to his front in the British military manner, the stock resting in the crook of his right arm and the barrel pointing slightly up.
He was explaining that he was going to make his point, when the next bus came in, by killing the driver and as many people aboard as he could. He knew this was a distasteful thing to do and he wished he didn't have to do it, but he had been forced to do this and there was really no alternative. (At this point, dream-me was weighing up "can I run for it?" against "This man is a dangerous loony. I seem to have his trust. Is there anything large and heavy I can clock him over the head with?")
Then a bus was coming in - it was in the purple-and-cream livery of First Buses, who are the dominant service provider in Bury as they are in all of North Manchester. The number on the front definitely ended in 7; might have been 57, 87 or 97.
End of dream. (Bladder re-asserted itself) - but I got a "prompt" in my head urgently saying "This will happen". So I leave this here, on the record.
Roughly 8:00am on a day off from work. so I wanted to enjoy a lie-in. Bladder was just full enough to be uncomfortable but the rest of me simply didn't want to get out of bed. You know how it is. So the casting vote was my brain drifting off into sleep again, but the sort of light sleep that can be disturbed in a second. I remember being awoken in the night by hearing birds singing outside the house but thought - three in the morning? Birdsong? and was baffled. (something hypnogogic?)
Anyway, the early morning dream on 27/11. I was in a bus station somewhere. It wasn't Stockport, but might have been elsewhere in Greater Manchester; association was Bolton or Bury. It felt like Bury, visually: the view through the glass walls behind the bus shelter looked like Bury's metro/rail station, which places the location. .
In the dream I was one of two people who were in the company of a man with a gun. We weren't hostages exactly - I had the feeling the gunman regarded us as accomplices, or else as people who were not opposed to him. He was telling us exactly what he proposed to do in a few moments as if we were sympathetic to his motives - I get the feeling we were to be left alive to explain his reasons to the world.
The gunman was middle twenties, dressed in dark clothing, was white British, blonde-brown short-cut hair, dark glasses. He was leaning on a metal dividing barrier in the bus station, looked pretty relaxed, and the visible weapon was a large assault rifle he was holding to his front in the British military manner, the stock resting in the crook of his right arm and the barrel pointing slightly up.
He was explaining that he was going to make his point, when the next bus came in, by killing the driver and as many people aboard as he could. He knew this was a distasteful thing to do and he wished he didn't have to do it, but he had been forced to do this and there was really no alternative. (At this point, dream-me was weighing up "can I run for it?" against "This man is a dangerous loony. I seem to have his trust. Is there anything large and heavy I can clock him over the head with?")
Then a bus was coming in - it was in the purple-and-cream livery of First Buses, who are the dominant service provider in Bury as they are in all of North Manchester. The number on the front definitely ended in 7; might have been 57, 87 or 97.
End of dream. (Bladder re-asserted itself) - but I got a "prompt" in my head urgently saying "This will happen". So I leave this here, on the record.