The Old Bridge Incident

Header image by Cruccone under Creative Commons 3.0.

Last night, or perhaps this morning (I can’t really tell), I dreamt I lived in one huge structure with everybody I could think of in my life. It wasn’t a monotone industrial structure, nor an architect’s dream made reality; it was a fortress. A grand fortress, with arches, bridges above the quads below, separate blocks, an effective city.

The place where I worked was on the other side of the fortress, so from my flat I had to cross a major bridge across the southern quads. It felt more like I was crossing plains. It was a busy bridge; it felt like it was the busiest place in the fortress during rush hour. I’d then have to enter a spiral staircase going through a gatehouse at the end of the bridge. There were paths going left and right, but as far as I know those led to more flats.

At work, I would often gaze out the window to see one of my friends doing the same from a building in another block, as if life in a fortress meant nothing significant.

I soon realised I was reliving different parts of the same day – the day the bridge was destroyed. I was carrying a bag of shopping home and I’d just made it out of the gatehouse when the bridge crumbled and fell several stories to the grass below in a burst of fire, taking the people crossing with it. I was safe although I had to grab my shopping to prevent anything happening to it. Other than that, I wasn’t given time to react in that the dream would then cut to another part of the day.

This time, I was coming home late at night having taken a long route round. I’d seemingly recovered from the bridge’s destruction, collapse or sabotage, and was back in high spirits (likely because I was glad to nearly be home.) I stopped to chat with a friend briefly, too – they seemed to be going for a big night out. They likely weren’t aware of what had happened.

Another seemingly pointless cut to me finally relaxing at home, shopping put away. It was dark and I could see the lights from houses in other blocks, some of them the lights of my friends’ houses/flats. I turned the lights on, drew the curtains, and started to wind down before eventually going to bed.

The next scene was likely after work, but before the bridge’s destruction; I was heading to another friend’s flat. Through one of the corridors on the way, I could see them in a corridor nearby their flat a few stories above mine. The corridors closed off a rectagular area with two other corridors on either side, but this part of the building was far, far above the ground. I opened the window and waved and they shouted something back, laughing.

Cut to arrival at their flat. I’d brought food and drink and apparently I’d finished work early as it still seemed to be afternoon. I remember chatting with them at their door and coming in, but perhaps there was a cut after that.

The next scene was the break of dawn of that day. The last day hadn’t quite finished yet; it was around 3am or 4am, but I was going out to do something, perhaps to begin work. Once again, I met one of my friends on the way out and had a short chat. I wondered what they were doing out this early, but I don’t remember what their answer was. Perhaps the same friend coming back from a night out.

The next cut was the bridge again. But something felt different, as if I had the chance to do something this time. The bridge exploded, and…that was it. The dream ended.

Maybe it really was intentionally destroyed.


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