I WAS DRIVING A CAR. My (now ex) wife and daughters were in the car, except my wife was my mum. I came to a set of traffic lights. To get home I would usually go straight over at the lights and then turn left at the next lights, but this time I turned immediately left hoping I could join a parallel road later—but no. The road led into an underground bunker-like precinct. I drove to the end of a long concrete corridor, flanked to the left and right with cinema rooms, and then found myself at a dead end. The only way was forward, through a narrow slit. We got out of the car and pushed it through the slit. Then we all crawled through and found ourselves in a garden.
The kids were playing in the garden. Then I realised it was a private garden and there was a lady looking at us through her rear window. She came out to us and I explained what had happened. She and her husband started feeding us a barbeque. They turned out to be Jehovah’s Witnesses we’d never met. We ended up staying for a week. They had kids too. I played the piano and they tried to guess what the tune was. The kids made gifts for us—pictures and other artistic things. The husband gave us all trackers to pin on our clothes so that when we went on the ministry he knew where everyone was.