[Redbook1:259A-G][19720628:0000][Running
Dream][28th June 1972]
19720628
Through the
grey streets, behind the ‘swish-swish’ of the wipers, I became hunted. Sometimes passing a side road I glimpsed the
menacing shape of a blue patrol-car; but always the old Citroen escaped
detection, to roam the streets, moving continuously, pursued and unable to
rest.
Finally I
had to stop. I pulled in by the
pavement, hoping to sleep unnoticed. But
shortly the police arrived, and surrounded me, standing silent.
We moved
into a nearby building to negotiate. In
a small auditorium I was surrounded by people.
‘What shall
I say?’ I asked in despair.
‘Tell them
to release you or let you go.’
‘What do
you want?’ I asked the police chief.
‘We would
like your help.’ It seemed to me that he was for some reason playing me softly,
understating his concern. ‘We would like
you to come with us.’
‘Are you
going to arrest me?’
‘We would
like you to come with us.’
‘Tell him
of your fear of assassination.’ I was advised.
The police
chief looked at papers behind his desk.
‘Our calculations lead us to believe that you are in greatest danger of
assassination at two o'clock this afternoon.’
The implication was clear: Come with us and you will be safe.
Panic rose
in me.
I
turned. The girl behind and above me
seemed to be holding a knife. She
lunged. Twice I held her off; the third
time I mistook, and she slipped upwards past my guard.
Suffering
no pain, I distinctly felt and saw my own throat cut, the air pipe severed and
exposed to the air; awkwardly, and in fear, I became aware of the impossibility
of my living.
In a
deserted and dusty classroom of my first boarding school I read the newspaper
account of what had happened next. I had
quite suddenly slaughtered a number of the people around me in the
auditorium. There were references to an
earlier, similar offence. I did not
remember either occasion; but I accepted that they occurred.
Clearly
there was only one thing I could do. I
had to give myself up and attempt to make some amends for what I had done. I had also to try to find out what exactly I
had done, and why.
I went to
the door. A man was passing in the
passage outside. I stopped him.
‘My name is
Richard Collins.’ I saw fear rise to his eyes.
‘Would you please inform the Police that I am here?’
But when
they came, blue-uniformed and menacing, I became frightened. The old hunted feeling returned.
In a room
somewhere in my second boarding school, I searched among piles of
umbrellas. I was helped by the little
Chinese boy I had known in my childhood -- still as friendly and inscrutable as
ever. I found an umbrella I had lost
many years ago -- my name was on the handle -- and an old walking stick, which
I abandoned.
I set out
with my umbrella unfurled.
In
Lincoln's Inn I find a fair-haired child, little changed, who was a younger
friend of my own youth. As a police
patrol-car comes in by the Gate, we go out over the Wall.
In
Lincoln's Inn Fields I test my powers in a small way, vaulting the fences with
no effort.
My
companion is the only person apparently unafraid of me.
* * *
Or,
possibly, he is desperately afraid – more so as I explain my ‘blank periods’
and the destruction worked in them -- but he overcomes his fear, to try to
help.
The whole
thing seems horribly logical -- especially if my murderous ‘blank’ periods are
triggered by fear, causing the power to be given rein under the control of only
of basic instinct. But what causes the
fear? I suspect a telepathic
element. This would fit in with my
illusion of being killed when in fact it was I who was unwittingly doing the
killing. My own fear might then be the
result of other people's intentions towards me – or (and this hardly bears
thinking about) the reflection of other people's fear of me.
Clearly I
am gaining control of the power which was used in (and caused?) my blank periods. But I am afraid of the unreliable element
which may remain when the fear arises in me, since I cannot see any prospect of
controlling that fear.
My
companion is disturbed most by the thought of my telepathic powers. With great intensity, he insists that when I
experiment in use of this faculty, I must not use it on him.
Piecing together previous events,
and calculating future probabilities, I begin to see why the Police were so
wary of me, and why an attempt was made to kill me.
... If it was made.
[This was the write-up of a genuine dream which I noted down on waking
and, I believe, wrote up very soon afterwards while the memory was still fresh.]
[PostedBlogger06112013]
