I WAS DRIVING A 4X4 THROUGH TOWN. As I drove up a hill I lost traction and started to roll backwards. I managed to spin the vehicle around so it was facing forwards. As I hurtled down the hill out of control I crashed into a few cars before careering through the garden of a house. I was on a direct collision course with a brick building. Just then I noticed a small girl standing in the doorway of the building. I closed my eyes as the car smashed into the building. I thought the girl must surely be dead, but as the dust settled I saw she was fine. She had managed to hide under a stairwell and avoided being crushed in the accident.
As nighttime came, I found myself in a massive corrugated metal workshop. My dad was there. He told me he had rented the building to a dance troop who wanted somewhere to perform a show. Suddenly they burst through the doors and start dancing to loud music. An audience gradually drifted in and I started to think my dad had been tricked—it seemed to be an illegal rave, and there would surely be drugs there! So I left and went outside. I noticed I had a hands free microphone attached to my jacket. Suddenly I heard a voice on my phone. It was the police asking if I was okay. They told me that a now-estranged friend (still a Jehovah’s Witnesses) had called them and asked them to check on me. Apparently, my “friend” had heard loud music through my hands-free microphone and concluded I was at an illegal rave. I assured the police I was fine and that the music they could hear was just a concert. I felt annoyed as if my friend was judging me.
I placed my phone in my backpack and walked over to my car. I opened the trunk to put my backpack in just as a young man in black appeared from the shadows. The man grabbed my backpack and ran off. I chased after him and after pursuing him for a while he gave up. He threw the backpack on the ground and ran away. I picked my backpack up and headed back to the car, but when I arrived I realised I no longer had it. It had been stolen again without me noticing!
Back home my (now ex) wife was tidying our children’s bedrooms. There was stuff everywhere—clothes, toys, and books. I kept picking things up that I wanted to keep for myself—an Action Man, a clockwork robot that used to be mine before I gave it to my youngest daughter, some headphones. I tried to help sort everything but it was overwhelming.
My dad was there laying in bed. He seemed to have left Jehovah’s Witnesses. He and I kept swearing and my mum—who kept morphing into my ex-wife—showed her disapproval by pulling a face at us. Meanwhile, I phoned the police on an old mobile phone and tried to report the theft of my backpack. The person on the line was barely audible. The call ended and I was left wondering if they understood me. I was worried because my backpack also contained my wallet, house keys, and driving licence with my home address.
An electrician arrived and began ripping up floorboards to rewire the house. I decided to ring the police again. This time I could hear them fine. They told me they had discovered my phone’s location via “find my iPhone”. Whoever had my phone was using my social media accounts to post negative information about Jehovah’s Witnesses. The police were planning to raid the person’s house. The call ended and I took a bite out of the old mobile phone I was using to call them on.
I returned to tidying up my kid’s rooms. I was standing on a stool trying to reach some bottles on the top shelf. I slipped and the stool slid away from under me. I was left hanging from the shelves. I knocked the bottles over and liquid began pouring everywhere. I called for help and eventually, my dad got out of bed and came to rescue me.
A second electrician arrived. He told me he knew about my “friend” reporting me to the police for attending an illegal rave and that I was spreading negative reports about Jehovah’s Witnesses online. I explained the event at my dad’s shed was a concert and that my phone had been stolen. Then I started flying and spinning in the air in front of him but he seemed unimpressed.
I walked from my daughters’ room onto the landing and almost fell over the stair rail—it was so low. I thought, “That’s unsafe”. Then I found myself in my sons’ room. There was a mattress on the floor for me to sleep on, For some reason we no longer sleeping together.