I was standing outside the little disused post office on Killicomaine Road, in my neighbourhood. The sun was low in the sky: evening. My uncle Maurice and aunt Heather were with me. Maurice’s car was nearby.
I noticed lots of people coming our way from the direction of the Princess Way roundabout. It wasn’t one group, but lots of little groups, like families. The section of the street where I stood was shaped like the bottom of a bowl; the road curved upwards in both directions, also curving left, making it impossible to see much beyond a few hundred metres.
Curious, I climbed up onto the porch roof which jutted out of the post office building. The elevated position afforded me a much better view.
Just above the horizon, the sky was hidden behind a veil of thick black smoke, suffused with blood-red flames. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but on retrospect the behaviour of the smoke was odd. It didn’t billow up into the sky as it should have done, but stayed near the ground, churning and boiling. I couldn’t see what was on fire; rooftops and trees got in the way. I had the impression that the source of the blaze was several miles away.
It was a surreal sight. Not just the strange fire, but the groups of people walking away from it. They seemed calm, as if nothing were amiss. I observed smiling faces and happy chatter. No one was in any hurry. As I watched, the numbers grew, many of them walking on the middle of the road. Something that didn’t occur to me until later was the question “Why is everybody on foot?” Although one question I did ask myself was “Why are they all coming this way?” There had to be many different routes away from the blaze, but it seemed as if everyone had the same destination in mind – information that I was not privy to.
After a while, the numbers passing by started to dwindle. When I got down from the porch, I noticed that Maurice and Heather had left, although their car was still here. I planned to leave the area, although I had a load of desirable items in the car, and I was loathe to leave them in plain sight for looters. I opened the car and tried to hide most of the stuff away. For some reason, my old childhood Frankenstein doll caught my eye, and I couldn’t help noticing that the monster was minus his clothes.
My intention was not to follow the posse, but to head for Abercorn Park, home of my parents. It was only about a quarter of a mile away.
Dusk had arrived by the time I got to Abercorn. There was a stillness in the air. No one was outdoors. Where I should have seen lights behind the windows of most houses, only a small percentage was illuminated. Clearly, the people of Abercorn Park knew about whatever was going on, and most had chosen to evacuate. I entered my parents’ house. Mum was in the kithen, chatting with a bunch of visitors whom I didn’t recognise. I didn’t know if she knew more than me, but she seemed oblivious to anything being out of the ordinary.
Well, all this happened sometime between 2.00 a.m. and 9.00 a.m. last night while I lay in bed. Sorry it doesn’t have an exciting and dramatic climax, but that’s dreams for you. You’ll notice that in this dream my mum is still alive. That’s a common one for me; I guess it shows how much somebody means to you when you dream about them regularly. Nudity is also something that I’ve dreamt about more than once, although usually it’s a dream about myself ending up naked in some embarrassing situation. This is the first time I’ve dreamt about a nude Frankenstein doll. Go figure. As for the weird fire and mass exodus, I have no idea if that means anything, but it was very cool. Anyone care to interpret?