The prophetic power of dreams

Having already read far too widely than was wise for an eight year old, I spent a lot of my childhood nights haunted by dreams of worldwide nuclear holocaust.

Luckily, by the time I was old enough to have an accurate conception of what that might means in concrete physical terms (the slow encroaching sickness and sloughing of skin as people flee destroyed population centres in vast panicked crowds, for example), I’d stopped having vivid visual dreams – or at least ones that I remembered in the morning.

Last night, I had the most horrendously vivid and factual dream of nuclear holocaust ever.

This morning, the postman delivered my tax return forms*. Spooky.

[* This strikes me as a bit ridiculous. I sent off the form to register for self-employment on April 1st this year, and didn’t receive any money from self-employment until much later that month. But I still have to fill in a tax return form for the four days of the last tax year that I was theoretically self-employed? Strikes me as a bit daft. Still, I guess it’ll be a useful ‘dry-run’ for bext year, when there’ll actually be some figures to go in the boxes.]

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