A dream of conflict
September 1999
We stand in a line facing out. Two deep, arms interlinked, the lines staggered so that a face behind looks past our shoulders.
"Get ready!" orders a voice, "they're coming!"
"My vision detaches and floats through the ceiling. We are in a wooden boatlike structure on land with one covered floor and one with a balustrade. The building is shaped like a long diamond, the rear walls are cliff, the front wood. The wood is a light pine colour. It's bare, and very lightly varnished. The delicately pink light of dawn sweeps across it, giving life to the grain and texture of the wood.
Humans are lined up two deep against the balustrade on the room and against the glassless windows of the room.
The atmosphere is nervous. We are afraid. Something is coming and we're all that is left. We must face it here, for we are the last.
A distant rumble begins. Arms tighten, strengthening the chain of humanity. A presence is felt. We stand, jaws out like some Soviet poster.
We see the threat.
a babies cry sounds out.
Sleepily, I realise that our daughter is crying. My wife wakes quicker than I and reaches toward me. I reach down beside the bed and fetch a new nappy which I hand to her. I mumble and she pats me on the back and I drift into the haze of sleep again.