The Disease

I was traped in the dream time and things were not going well.

A disease had invaded our fair country and it was passed on by contact, those that became hosts were apt to attack for food and therefore transmit the illness.

We were barraciaded into a house with high ceilings and polished wooden floors and fire places that still worked. The garden was also secure and many like us were still attempting to live normally.

There were quiet a few of us living in this house and some went out on a foraging expedition. Things were getting worse we knew and though we had plenty of food in stock and a garden that we had put netting and fencing around to keep people and things out we still wanted as many reserves as possible.

The party – three middle aged men came running back but they were shouting and I knew something was wrong, one of them was bleeding and so I took the course of action that I deemed correct – I had a community to look after but I hated myself as I closed and bolted the door on them and rang the alarm bell so that all other entrances were blocked.

I could not risk contaniation of our home.

‘Listen!’ cried one of the men above the others who were shouting for us to let them in.

‘I can not let you in,’ I said with no emtion, lest I waver and grant them access.

‘I know but you’ve got too know – SHUT UP – the birds are infected and the bats and the squirrels they are attacking in flocks… – they’re coming!’ He sounds frantic and scared.

‘Block up anywhere they can get in – please!’ I assure him I will and then through the window I see birds dive upon them, big crows and small blue tits and each is ripping at them with sharpe beaks. I feel sick but I turn to the household that is assembled before me. One woman is having to be restrained and is screaming at me, her father is one of the men.

I tell them of the crisis and so they organise themselves and we begin to boared up areas around the chinmeys whilst putting metal mess in the actual opening and make sure that the netting is all secure around the garden and that our own chickens and ducks are checked carefully for signs of infection and moved into the large garage – they will not be able to roam in the gardens now.

I worry about the bird shit and weather it is a possible risk and so we see what glass and perspexs we have and weather we can sort of ‘dome’ the garden.

I look at my little work force and sigh – I am hated now by many though it would have been the end of all of us had I let the men in – and how long will this last? Will water supplies continue? I already have a filtration unit set up for piss but that wont be enough, help from out side now seems impossible – I wonder if we are just going to have a slow death and weather this is the right thing to be doing – to try and survive.

The Lady plays contentedly on the floor in a room were I can hear bats and birds trying to get in through the boared up chimney – I move her as so flails little chubby arms grumpily at being moved from her toys.

I awoke from this dream with a strange disquiet.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 2nd, 2007 at 2:42 pm and is filed under The Land of Unreality Made Real. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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