Running, running, running I am always running. Last night I was also running in my sleep.
Picture the scene:
I was in a hotel with my family. But the hotel was completely isolated. There were fields all around. Green fields, hay fields, hedges, the wonderful English countryside. A couple of crows are perched on the telephone wires. They menacingly squawk.
We walk in and the door squeaks. Behind the desk is a man smoking a pipe with a patch over his right eye. He is perfectly still as if he were a waxwork. Wearing a beige shirt and blue shorts he had an ankle support on his right leg.
As is the way with dreams we are suddenly in our room. There is a double bed and bare floorboards. The wardrobe has one door on properly but the right hand door is hanging off at an angle.
My wife is holding our child and the elder one is running around and then he falls and he holds his right knee.
Ӈet help,Ӡmy wife screams.
For some reason in this dream I do not have a mobile phone. Suddenly I am running, running, running.
I run along the road and then I am running down a circular path. Looking down I see I have a ligament knee support on my right knee but I have to keep going.
Then I find I am falling down a hole.
As I land I roll over and I feel excruciating knee pain but I must get help. Looking around I see I am in a town square. Well it is more like a triangle. There are eighteenth century buildings to my right, Tudor style at an angle to my left and a grand edifice behind me with roman columns.
That seemed to be the place to go so in I walked. There were people wearing knee supports on their right leg. There is a man in a suit behind the desk.
He smiles, Ӄan I help you, sir?
Ӎy son has hurt himself, I need some medical help.Ԝnӄo you want a first aid kit?ԜnӅr… yes but…Ԝn
Then I woke up to the unhappy face of my wife.
Written by Adam Williams