Weird chase.
Repetitive dream.

For a number of years, on and off, I’ve had this repetitive dream.
Not every week or month but on and off over the years at sort of random intervals.

Although vivid, I don’t see it in colour, rather a sort of scratched, washed-out sepia as though on a movie from the 1920s; a whiff of cigar smoke in the salty air.


Here is how it goes:-

“I’m standing in a street in New York the date is 1984 waiting for a bus, somehow everything is blurred, no, not blurred, indistinct.

There are people running past, away from something, I don’t recognise any of them, yet four seem familiar in overalls. They carry some sort of weapon each, held out in front of them and run the other way.

Then I see it, or rather, part of it.
A bloated whiteness, so large it fills the spaces between the buildings and the sky.

Running toward the careering bus, the doors opening as I jump.
Closing behind me, just.
Desperately looking about, there is no-one here, nobody even driving the strange old bus. So I make for the steps to the upper deck, there must be somebody here?

To my horror the steps go on and on, never ending.
Shattered by now, I clamber onward until I finally run out of puff. Looking up, I see it, written before me on the whiteness STAY PUFT”


And that’s how it usually ends,
my ghost-bus-stairs nightmare.


/runs off cackling
( FeralCatMan Unusual disease collector., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 1:21, Reply)