I WAS AT A CONVENTION OF JEHOVAH’S WITNESSES. It was lunchtime and I was in a dining hall speaking to Elvis Presley. I told my little girl who he was and she wouldn’t believe me. Elvis got upset with me for making a “big deal” about him being famous. Meanwhile, an old friend called Matthew (Maf) turned up for his lunch. He was working in the area and had decided to drop in to see me. I showed him where to queue up for his dinner but never got to chat with him because I suddenly found myself outside on the concourse which was full of Jehovah’s Witnesses walking around and mingling with each other.
My dad was there. He was racing a blue radio-controlled Porsche 911 up and down the concourse. The car was speeding so fast I felt it was dangerous. I told him to stop before it ran into someone but he wouldn’t listen, so as the car sped past me I kicked it into a wall and smashed it into a lot of pieces. Next, I was in the back of my brother-in-law’s car driving home from the convention. I was trying to fix the remote-controlled Porsche as we drove along, but my brother-in-law was driving so fast and erratically that I was being thrown around in the back seat. I shouted to him to slow down but he wouldn’t listen. As we approached a corner he lost control and the car span off the road into a field narrowly missing a tree.
The next day, I was back at the convention. I was standing on the concourse watching a cheerleader doing acrobatics while I tested the radio-controlled car. It was slower than before, and a bit jerkier, but at least it worked.
Then I found myself in a large house on holiday with a group of single Jehovah’s Witnesses in their twenties. I felt like the odd one out. I gave a young woman a piggyback. I felt she might be attracted to me but her best friend told me she only jumped on my back because she didn’t feel there was any chemistry between us. Then the group sat in a circle chatting. One of the guys was crying and I tried to cheer him up by making a joke and laughing. The group immediately turned against me, telling me I was cruel to laugh when he was so sad. From that point on, the group wanted nothing to do with me and I felt like an outcast.
I tried to get back into favour by making the group drinks. My first girlfriend and my ex-wife (both called Rebekah) were there. I was writing their drinks orders down on a sheet of paper but I couldn’t get their names correct. I kept spelling Rebekah with a double “cc”. Meanwhile, the group told me they were going to try and get my ex-wife’s younger brother to “return to Jehovah”. I told them I thought it was a bad idea but they wouldn’t listen. I went to the kitchen to make the drinks but there were not enough mugs, so I walked through the house looking for some. I managed to collect enough mugs together and made the drinks. Then I went to find the group, but they had disappeared. I looked everywhere but couldn’t find anyone. Then I heard a noise upstairs. It was coming from one of the bedrooms.
I knocked on the bedroom door and a black woman with black and white facial tattoos answered through a crack in the door. I pushed the door open and walked into the room. My ex-wife was there. She was embarrassed because she and the black woman had been making out together. I told them not to worry. I was cool with it. I asked my ex-wife if she was bi-sexual and she confirmed she was. Then I sat on the bed and ate someone’s muesli from a bag. My wife said the owner of the muesli would be angry but I told her it was fine—they would never know. I resealed the bag and went back downstairs.
I heard laughter coming from the conservatory and went to investigate. There was the group, playing a board game. I said “Hi!” but they all ignored me. They clearly didn’t want me there so I went to sit on my own in the living room. As I walked in, I saw my ex-wife’s parents there. They asked me if I was okay. “Yes,” I replied, “but at 53 years old I’m not wanted for my entertainment value anymore.”
Suddenly, I was with my sister in a portacabin located in the middle of a roundabout. I saw a coach driving towards us. In the front of the coach were seated two women, one middle-aged and one in her twenties. I walked to a coat stand in the corner of the portacabin. I took a long, blue overcoat from the stand and put it on. Then I left the portacabin and started to walk towards a car park accompanied by my sister and the two women who had been in the coach. When we arrived at my car, a white one, I told my sister to get in the front seat but she refused. “I’ll only sit in the back seat,” she replied. Meanwhile, the two women got into their car and drove away. I tried to follow but I was blocked in by a small red car so I pushed it out of the way with my car. Then I drove round and round the roundabout for a while.
After that, I found myself back at an assembly of Jehovah’s Witnesses, this time at the East Pennine Assembly Hall. It was lunchtime and I was walking about with my sister and the two women I’d seen earlier in the coach. The women and my sister were talking to each other but they were ignoring me as if I was invisible. Then I saw two elders who I didn’t like—George and Paul—and asked them, “Where’s Stewart? I’ve got some paperwork for him.” George and Paul told me they didn’t know, but then my dad appeared and said he’d take me to see Stewart. Stewart, it turns out, was the assembly chairman, and he was in an office by the front entrance. I walked into his office and placed a sheet of paper on his desk. It was a handwritten list of people who would be giving talks at the Kingdom Hall over the next few weeks. My name was on there, and so was my (now dead) mum’s name.