I WAS WORKING AT GAMSTON AIRPORT. I walked down a corridor and just as a glass door closed behind me I heard a woman ask, “Does anyone like percentages?” I turned around and called after her, “I do!” She joined me on my walk down the corridor. We reached a waiting room with brightly coloured sofas. There were several bookcases full of Watchtower publications which had been left there by the airport builders who had been Jehovah’s Witnesses. The woman asked me, “What percentage is 45 out of 100?” I replied, “That’s easy. It’s 45 percent”, but she didn’t look convinced. Someone else arrived and she asked them the same question. They didn’t seem to know the answer. I began to explain how I arrived at my answer and used other fractions to demonstrate my method—6/25 and 2/15. The woman wrote these numbers with a large red pen on a cork noticeboard hanging on the wall. I spotted an old school ruler on the ground and picked it up. An old work colleague, a Jehovah’s Witness called Dan O’Brien, appeared. He told me he worked in the accounts department. I felt threatened by this—like the business had been taken over by receivers. Dan wanted me to sell some software he had designed “on commission”. I told him I would think about it.
I found myself in a park with my sister walking on a tarmac path surrounding a large grass area. We had been sitting on the grass and I felt like I had left something behind. We reached a restaurant and sat down to eat a roast dinner. After we left the restaurant I remembered what I was missing—a black leather portfolio case containing an iPad. I wasn’t sure where I’d left it—on the grass, or in the restaurant?
I was on a coach with a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses. We had just arrived back from a convention. My dad had lots of stuff with him including loads of congregation paperwork and field service territory maps. He was disorganised and as he disembarked from the coach he left lots of his stuff behind. I sensed there was something wrong with him. He seemed aggressive and incompetent. He walked away leaving me to gather his stuff up. The coach driver, a woman, was patient but needed to leave so I scooped everything up and threw it out of the coach onto the pavement. I apologised to the coach driver and she drove away. I started picking my dad’s stuff up from the pavement which took ages. My (now dead) mum was there watching me. I walked home carrying all the papers and maps.
The next morning I arrived to board the convention coach again. The congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses were queuing up on the pavement. I spotted lots of abandoned briefcases in the hedgerow. Tim Smith, an elder and my dad’s best friend, was there. I picked up a black briefcase from the hedgerow and showed it to Tim. He was impressed and seemed to want it, but I said I was keeping it. I opened the briefcase and found a large Bible inside. Someone had written their name (unreadable) and congregation (Arnold) inside the front cover. I said, “That’s too far away to return. It’s on the other side of Nottingham.” I threw the Bible back into the hedgerow and kept the briefcase.
I saw a house I liked. The front door was unlocked so I entered and started looking around. It had tiny bedrooms accessible through small openings. I was unable to enter them because I was wearing a large sheepskin coat. I tried to remove it but I couldn’t. My (now ex) wife was there. She was able to enter all the rooms. I liked the kitchen. It had yellow, 1960s-style cabinets. It became apparent I was viewing the house with a view to us living in it. Madison was there. I asked her, “You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?” referring to us moving in. I went outside just as the landlord pulled up. He offered to show us around. He showed us many more rooms we hadn’t seen before including a bedroom with a large double bed that rose up and down when a button was pressed. I asked the landlord if he wanted to sell or rent. He replied, “Sell preferably, but we can rent if you like.” He said it would be “four and a half” (£450) per month to rent. We agreed I would pay him 3 months rent, sign a 1 year contract, and purchase the house in a year’s time. I was confident I would be able to afford a mortgage by then because I was now working at Gamston Airport. As I left the house, my (now dead) King Charles Spaniel followed me out.
I was in an attic bedroom which was like a mezzanine situated high above a swimming pool. My “bed” was the blue blanket that my mum crocheted for me. An intruder scaled the outside wall and tried to steal my laptop. I beat it away with a baseball bat but my laptop fell to the ground. I flew down and caught it before it fell in the pool below. I flew back to my room and hid my laptop under my blanket. I waited for the intruder to return and when he did I hit him hard again with the bat. My mum entered the room and I told her I was trying to prevent the intruder from taking my laptop. She said: “Yes, that one has been known to enter people’s rooms and try to pray with them.”