INTRO

My good buddy Christine had been having a rash of predictive dreams. She said that this sometimes happened when she was under stress. Thing was, they were all so stupidly trivial! For example, she dreamed about an interview in which Chris Martin from Coldplay talked about his creative process. Shortly after, maybe the next day, she saw an interview in which he said the same things. We laughed about this, and I wondered whether she had simply been sleeping with the TV on and absorbed the interview unawares, then watched it repeated later. She insisted this could not be the case. So, half-joking, I asked her to try to dream of something important. I was like, "there could be a plane-crash tomorrow with hundreds dead and you will be dreaming about J-Lo's feelings on media intrusiveness!"

BARLINNIE

That very night she had a dream in which I woke her up; wearing a slivery-grey suit and orange sash, I was sort of looming over her bed in a creepy way and I said "Hello Christine, I just got back from Barlinnie." Barlinnie is a large and well-known prison in Scotland. She said I was being exaggeratedly lecherous and tactile.

She told me about this dream in the morning; then in town she saw this headline on a news-stand: "Barlinnie Sex Pest Caught." Apparently a staff-member had been molesting inmates. We didn't buy the paper to read about it in detail, which now seems incredibly dumb. But not to worry because Christine's dreams weren't done with us yet...

HOSTAGE (2002/10/22)

Christine is a movie-buff and her dreams are often very filmic. This one had the appearance of graded film--everything was viewed as though through a cold bluish filter. She was indoors, in some big, grand place. A little girl with blonde ringlets was present; she said, "The Tsar can see us; he will be here soon."

Then she found herself in a spacious hall with a chequed floor and staircases; gunmen in black appeared on the balconies and fired shots all over the place. This went on a while.

The scene shifted and she was sitting bound at a table. A well-dressed man sat opposite. He said, "first I'm going to shoot you in the shoulder, then in the head." He did so and that was the end of the dream.

THE NEXT DAY

she told me this dream. That evening I watched the news over dinner; the main story was the Moscow Theatre hostage crisis.

The first casualty of the siege had already occurred. A young woman--a local perfumier--had snuck into the theatre with the intention of persuading the Chechen terrorists to release some of the hostages and abstain from violence. They decided that she was an FSB agent and tortured and shot her to death.

LATER

Christine had several other predictive dreams, mostly of the trivial/celebrity-based kind, then the phase passed and as far as I know she has had no more since then.

--Gordon B.

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