I WAS A SOLDIER IN THE ARMY. I found myself in a garden building a patio swing. I didn’t have enough bolts. I was ordered to go and find nuts, bolts, and washers. I searched in the mud and found some, but I kept dropping them. My grandad was there. He was telling me about the people he’d killed in the war. There were other soldiers there. They were being nasty to me. We were going into battle soon.
I was walking with my mum and sister on the train tracks. My sister kept touching the rails. I told her it was dangerous, but she said it was okay because they weren’t electrified. We crossed a concrete bridge. My mum started panicking and passed out. Then I was at home. My mum was blaming me for losing my sister but I went upstairs and found her there. My oldest son was there too. He had found a gold ring. I checked with my mum and it wasn’t hers. I told my son it probably belonged to the Jehovah’s Witnesses that met at our house before going on field service. My dad was telling my mum that the patio swing was a waste of money and we didn’t need it.
I was in the bath. I squirted soap in my hands and bubbles went everywhere. Then I was in an office, frantically photocopying a confidential document and hoping not to be found out. There was a wardrobe full of blue shirts. I picked one and tried to put it on, but it was too tight. I got in a car with a man and woman from the office. We drove to a quiet place in the countryside. I got out of the car and flew back to the office. On the way I saw a royal carriage with flying servants.
I was at a school teaching yoga to young children. One child kept jumping on my back. My friend, Josh, turned up to help me. Then we were at a dockside. A pickup truck drove over the edge into the water. It carried on driving for a while, but eventually sank beneath the water. I found myself travelling with the children on a tall, concrete boat. One of the children fell overboard and drowned. I had a handful of polished, coloured stones. I threw them into the water.
I was at the swimming baths. I opened a door, behind which was a very small, but deep, pool. My little girl jumped in and went under the water. She didn’t come up again. I dived in after her and searched under the water, but I couldn’t find her. I shouted to a member of staff and told them what had happened. They drained the pool and there, laying at the bottom of the pool, was my daughter, her older sister, and my mum—all dead.
I was in a bedroom. There were armed intruders downstairs. I placed a mattress against the door to stop any bullets. The intruders left and I opened the door. A now estranged friend entered the room. I asked her where my children were. She told me I didn’t have any children—that they had drowned at the swimming pool. It didn’t feel real. I was sure my children were still alive.
I was rewinding a cassette player, watching the counter count down to zero. I played the tape and heard my little girl’s voice on it. Then I was walking along a street with someone—I don’t know who. I saw a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I asked the person with me if my children and my mum were in the Kingdom Hall. They told me they had drowned at the swimming pool and were dead.