I had my one and only recurring nightmare last night.
I was in high school, running late for maths. I kept all my books in my bag in secondary school – never once used my locker and on this day I had to get my book. I ran to the bags and there was a problem. Everybody had left their school bag out and no one had put their name on theirs; they all looked the same. I was frantically searching but couldn’t find my own, all the time knowing Mr Pilkington would be most disappointed in me.
Sure, it’s not Jack Nicholson smashing through the door with an axe, and I was fully clothed, but it’s a dream I have every now and then and for some reason it throws me for a couple of days afterwards. I think I know why I had it this time, but it’s still left me unsettled.
Most odd.