Last Nights Weird Dream

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All I remember is that a group of 10 close friends and I had robbed a bank for about £2.3 million.


4 of us then cheekily decided to ditch the group with all the money and run down an endless narrow staircase that was dimly lit. Closely pursued by armed police and angry friends that we tried to ditch, we burst through a door at the bottom into a dark underground car park. My friend, Ben, had an old school BMW 3 series and we all jumped in (magically without any luggage, considering the robbery).

Once in the car, we sat quietly and then started to pray for protection and a safe journey. This wasn’t a quick prayer either as we each prayed for ages and somehow no one found us in that time. I kept saying “boys, you need to lock your doors and stay low in case someone finds us.”

After all this, Ben crouched under the car light and punched coordinates into his gps for where we were going (slowest.robbery.ever). Once we had eventually finished fafing around with postcodes, addresses and discussing directions, we slowly drove around the car park trying to work our way out.

I kept whispering, “boys, lock your doors!” “Ben, turn the lights off!” We met a policeman as we drove passed the same door we burst through minutes earlier and he seemed oblivious to the situation for a while. He stood guarding the door with an ear piece and a huge gun. Someone must have said something in his ear as He saw us and slowly started to walk our way. Don’t really remember what happened to him, but the next thing I remember we were trying to negotiate our way out of an awkwardly shaped exit route using a 3 point turn. We’d reverse, go back and forth and try again. While doing this, a long black tinted American limo pulled up alongside us. They needed us to make way for the president (#randomIknow).

We broke through the barrier as cops, friends and now strangers started running after us. We sped off under the double height overhang and for some weird reason, turned around at the end of the road. We must have jumped out as I only remember running back towards the car park entrance being pummelled with stuff, especially by our friends who were angry about the fact that we tried to ditch them. They were effectively on the cops side at this point even though a few minutes ago they had tried to rob a bank with us. We ran around the side of the building and suddenly it was daytime and we were outside the White House.

One of the guys, Josh, had to leave us early as he had to go and look after his baby (in real life he doesn’t have a child). A random intermediate period followed when I was all on my own being chased by randomers in the street. I had a quick stop off at the corner shop to buy a drink. Slight queue at the till but I waited my turn.

I headed back onto the streets once again and I was chased by people with machetes till I bumped into another friend called Matt. We had a quick catch up before he casually walked me to a house door, up a few steps and knocked. We waited calmly and listened to the melody of birds singing sweetly in the background. Josh came out with his baby and we all went in. “Mate, nice house,” we both exclaimed. As architecture students, we started analysing and critiquing it in different ways.

We all went in and had some tea (Britishness). His house was similar to the lush villas you get in Chelsea or Knightsbridge in south-west London with the massive stepped-back porches and 5 storeys, which include a basement and a loft. I said to them “I’d feel a lot safer on the top floor, because if anyone finds us, it’s the last place they’ll get to in the house.” So we all camped out in the massive 5th floor bathroom and mused at the artwork on the wall and enjoyed the views across the sunny city.

At this point I woke up feeling quite confused, slightly sweaty with my heart pounding. Two things ran through my head at this point; 1. “Man, I’m gonna be late for uni?” And 2. “What was all that about?”

I don’t dream much and very rarely do I remember my dreams. But when I do, they’re often something like this – completely random!

The Angry Sharpness Monster

Background: Sharpness is a village in Gloucestershire county, England and is the location for my final year architecture project. This short fictional story is the result of a day-long story telling workshop which pushed our imaginations to create weird and wonderful stories. Here’s mine.

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Dissolute! That’s the only way to describe it,
Nothing much to do there you could hardly even hide it.
But scratch under its surface and there lay vast opportunity,
A story told of fisherman Trevor and his near bravery.

Not much sleep was had as he set off at break of dawn,
The thought of being at sea always had his attention drawn.
Off he went red eyed and yawning like a hippo,
Under the iron bridge, through the lock and past the silo.

As mist and fog lay low over the Severn’s near horizon,
He suddenly steered violently to prevent a near collision.
“What was that,” he anxiously muttered under his breath,
As the sea arose he feared he’d capsize to his imminent death.

A dark slithering shadow appeared in the deep blue waters,
A moment of sheer panic replaced by thoughts of his wife and daughters.
With forearm over his brow, eyes squinting to try and see,
He finally realised what the mass in the river could be.

For years he’d heard tales of the beast that lay beneath,
Claiming the lives of fishermen with its gigantic teeth.
He would ordinarily pass these tales off as nothing new,
Or tales by blokes at the country club who’d simply ‘had a few’.

He charged back through the lock with monster in close pursuit,
Back under the iron bridge he tried to remain resolute.
So dark he couldn’t find his barring’s using the tall cranes,
He felt lost and trapped, like being bound in iron chains.

Only weapon on board was a plank and fishing rod,
But how would that challenge such a creature so thick and broad?
Up and down the canal his eyes rapidly browsed,
Knowing the anger of the Sharpness Monster had been aroused.

Suddenly! All fell silent and the waters remarkably calm,
And all he could hear was the voice of his nagging mum.
For just as all within him wanted to yell and scream,
He awoke relieved realising he’d simply had a bad dream.

(By Gome, 2014)