I had a strange dream last night. First I was watching a game of rugby which turned into a game of soccer where I was a striker on a minor club team up against a Premiership team. We were holding our own until the groundskeeper started spreading a thickening agent on the grass. This confused the Premier boys and allowed me to score the only goal of the match.
Once that was done we walked out of the stadium and into central London to find the wreckage of a score of airplanes scattered about. My two companions were commenting on how tragic these events from 6 months ago were. Walking past one plane, which had crashed under an archway between Nelson’s column and Buckingham palace, I told them I was on it at the time of the crash but had walked away unhurt. They barely registered the comment and yet kept on talking about the tragedy.
