The World's a Stage...

Date: 8/10/2016

I remember being in a small house, all lit up with candles in the windows. I was standing in the winndow, staring out at the dark streets and knowing we had to get out. Dean and I climbed out of the window and dropped to the floor. The house looked so normal and even cosy, with its emerald green roof, darkwood panelling, and brown picket fence. But there was something in there out to get us, and we had to get away fast before it realised we were gone. I lost Dean as we were running over a deserted motorway bridge, but I recognised the path we were taking as the one to Rob's. I paused at the other side of the bridge, observing the similarly deserted road and the tyres piled up on the grass verge in the middle. Biting my lip and hoping for the best, I chose the path I believed was correct and followed it. There's a huge gap in my dream here. The next thing I remember is being on a bus. There were no two seats together, so Dean sat in an aisle seat and I sat on the one opposite him, getting into an awkward step-dance with a dark haired young girl in the process. The bus passed over the motorway bridge and down below, on the water, was a huge flat panel, floating, with seemingly hundreds of people on it. Once on the float, I see a girl, hair short and dark, gripping a microphone and addressing the people. I can't hear what she's saying and so I press forward through the crowd, and as I get closer I realise it's me, giving a passionate speech about chicken nuggets.