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Thirteen

Shortly before going to Edinburgh with a large group of friends, this is obviously picking up on the underlying concerns of something going wrong (which never happened)...written around 4am; this seems to be a fairly common time for waking for me, presumably influenced by sleep cycles. This one impressed me because I managed to spell nonchalantly correctly despite being almost asleep. I also subsequently visited a bookshop with much anarchist literature.

'On holiday with friends. We appear to be staying in a rocky crevice, in pairs, on a volcano...possibly Vesuvius. My partner is a man called Dan who is tall and thin, with long wiry hair. He is almost entirely grey and resembles no-one I know. During the night, which is not unusually warm, I go out walking along a narrow road. I see shadows of people climbing to the peak of the volcano. I can also see lava spewing out. I rush back to the holiday accommodation to tell the others of the impending danger. My hair briefly catches fire as lava hits it, but subsequently puts itself out. When I reach the group my partner has vanished leaving only his horrible old shoes. I search for him for a while, and he reappears with no fan fair, leaving me annoyed at his contrariness. Nonchalantly, everyone leaves the volcano. I remain concerned. Once down in to the town, I find an anarchist bookshop.'

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