Death-scene

From June 2007 diary—Thursday 7th:

Terrible dream again.

Some relative of mine—some death-scene—on a roundabout—unbelievable—but there he was, dead—something about birds.

Some discovery of something broken, and bloody.

Of course, I visited.  Couldn’t keep me away.

Went to visit him regularly.

He was reluctant to go out somewhere, and you know me—encouraging.

We went down a road or street—downhill—a park to our right—with penguins in it—no—dolphins—something like that—a children’s playground, but in a boat—and one of the penguins at the bottom—or chimpanzees—turned with a penguin it was holding, and all its orifices, all blood, all starting to fall away, decay away.

But dried out all this was—sockets in a skull that could be seen in the gaping mouth—where teeth had gone—I can see it now—blackened dried-out blood something like rust—and the sad look on the live one’s face—and blood-stained water in the bottom of the pool—of course they were all dead, but there were levels of death.

Right, my relative was not wanting to go anywhere near there, and I’d chivvied him along—it’ll be fine, you’ll enjoy it—as though it was a case of him not being able to be bothered with the exercise.

And then we walked further, or somewhere else.

There was some dressing-up for some theatre-show.

And a showing of ourselves to other people who admired, or would admire.

And then we went further, down some other road in the opposite direction, in a way, yet the same way—like going down an adjacent street from somewhere else.

And then he was hurt, and I reached over and picked him up and carried him, despite the fact that he was way too heavy for me.

And I carried him down this road, and we were just about to turn a corner when two boys saw him—from that other road—they called his name.

I realised the malicious intent, and turned around to go back—it wasn’t far—we’d gone ahead of our friends.

But they chased us on bicycles, two of them, and had encircled us in sight of our friends, and they intended harm, and I didn’t know if our friends would save us first—and I was awake.

An awful, bloody dream.

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