This happened during a night of largely restless sleep. The mornings growing lighter, the birds louder, people go to work earlier, all encroaching on my ability to stay in the realm of subconscious meanderings. Still, I recall waking from this confused as to where I was, and then angry at needing to be at work
'I have lost my job, working in a non specified warehouse. Outside are terraced gardens, the feel of an afternoon spent in rural Italy. A bald man is explaining to me why things have to change, and that when he says 'fired' he means 'being transferred to a distant war'. The warehouse is some sort of command ship. A fat man talks about how the enemy is a self replicating virus that mimics human form. As he explains, the whole place goes in to some kind of lock down, with lights flashing and soldiers running. He suggests I get a gun. All that is left are some out-of-date dusted over technologies, which actually prove to work better than the regular equipment. I see people fighting in a series of rooms, but am unsure who is good and who is bad. Instead of aiding in the battle (and I am told via a tannoy announcement that 'we' are losing) I move through more and more offices and command centres. Each one contains people fighting in a variety of strangely coloured costumes. One room reminds me of a film in which the President of the United States is making important decisions in an underground bunker during a war. Alternatively, it looks like Star Trek, when the Enterprise is hit by something and sparks fly from the console(s). I reach an escape hatch. Instead of the cold glimmer of stars in space, I am again in the terraced garden. it is part of a larger complex, though most of the rest of it is faceless corporate buildings. Muffled voices and shouts from behind. I decide to jump from terrace to terrace, in slow motion, looking at my feet as bullets and laser fire hurtles about me.'
'I have lost my job, working in a non specified warehouse. Outside are terraced gardens, the feel of an afternoon spent in rural Italy. A bald man is explaining to me why things have to change, and that when he says 'fired' he means 'being transferred to a distant war'. The warehouse is some sort of command ship. A fat man talks about how the enemy is a self replicating virus that mimics human form. As he explains, the whole place goes in to some kind of lock down, with lights flashing and soldiers running. He suggests I get a gun. All that is left are some out-of-date dusted over technologies, which actually prove to work better than the regular equipment. I see people fighting in a series of rooms, but am unsure who is good and who is bad. Instead of aiding in the battle (and I am told via a tannoy announcement that 'we' are losing) I move through more and more offices and command centres. Each one contains people fighting in a variety of strangely coloured costumes. One room reminds me of a film in which the President of the United States is making important decisions in an underground bunker during a war. Alternatively, it looks like Star Trek, when the Enterprise is hit by something and sparks fly from the console(s). I reach an escape hatch. Instead of the cold glimmer of stars in space, I am again in the terraced garden. it is part of a larger complex, though most of the rest of it is faceless corporate buildings. Muffled voices and shouts from behind. I decide to jump from terrace to terrace, in slow motion, looking at my feet as bullets and laser fire hurtles about me.'
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