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Garrison

Dream: 'Soldiers!' Comes the cry from the lookout tower. The village is surrounded by a raised wall of logs, mud and woven branches, the only entrance is a large gate, which I run to. There's a small troop of soldiers approaching, a dozen of them carrying a long wicker casket. It looks heavy. They have guns. I stop the leader, holding up what appears to be a stick. As I shout for him to halt and ask him who he is, what he wants and what's in the casket, I stare at my stick, thinking, I'm pointing a stick at him. He gestures to the soldiers with guns, 'We're coming inside,' he tells me, 'but we've brought you gifts.' He smiles a crooked smile, 'firewood.' They then march past me into the village. We wander outside to see what they have brought. Chairs. Hundreds of old high-backed chairs made of solid wood, woven with tree branches and vines. Like decaying thrones. The villages all take one and hurry home, but instead of burning them they sit in them, frozen and still. The sky darkens and it rains. Left outside are six of the chairs on a raised platform, I walk... BANG BANG BANG! A parcel delivery wakes me with a start.

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