This is without a doubt the single most disturbing dream that I can recall. It takes that title from the dream I had as a kid where some bad guys from a western barged in to my house and kidnapped me.
The dream started off innocently enough. I was in the New South Wales town of Conargo, in a building, chatting with ACT Opposition Leader Zed Seselja who was sitting at a table. The rest of the ACT Liberal Party turned up for a meeting with Zed, so I left and went to a friend’s place to sleep for the night (it was probably around 9pm in the dream at this time, and in reality this friend lives in deepest darkest southern Tuggeranong, but for the purposes of this dream, he lived in Conargo) where I slept until about 2am at which I time I felt an urge to visit the local store.
The store happened to be on a street corner which looked a bit like an amalgam of about five streets in Fyshwick. I drove to the store, but before I could get there a fire truck rushed past in the opposite direction, heading straight for the airport (which was probably a derivative of the Deniliquin airfield, just with more warehouses around it).
I made chase, as a fire at the airport would naturally be the lead story of my news bulletin in the morning, and parked about a block away from where the fire truck stopped. I got out of my car and started walking towards the airport, but was approached from behind by a very large man (both tall and bulky) wearing a State Emergency Service uniform (OK, perhaps not a uniform, just a fluoro yellow vest with reflective tape, and the letters “SES” printed on it in large black writing) and carrying an axe.
The man started yelling quite angrily about how I was being offensive, breaking the law, and upsetting him, by walking through a federal government construction zone. I offered my apologies and explained that I was a journalist, that my aim was to go to the airport to cover the story about the airport fire, that I did not intend on trespassing, and besides which, there was no signage to warn me about the construction zone.
The man was not impressed. He continued to yell at me, and continued to approach me. I started to back away and muttered something along the lines of “well, I’ll just leave now then”, at which point I turned around and started running. The man started yelling that I needed to be punished, and started to chase me. I ran in to a nearby building (which looks like the building in which I had started the dream, minus Zed Seselja and the rest of the Liberal Party), tripped on a rug and fell. The man with the axe caught up with me, and as I was lying on the ground, he continued yelling, and started to swing the axe toward me.
The axe came at me…and I woke up, rather shaken, and with my heart pounding.
I have more dreams from the last week to write about in the coming days, thankfully none are as dramatic as that one…I’m just hoping that my occasional ability to endure sequel’s to my dreams does not occur with this one.