Nicola Kirk: Author and Collector of Paranormal Stories and Other Strange Encounters

The more I look at this photo, I can’t decide if she’s meant to be having a bad dream or a really good time. But anyway…

I had the most horrendous dream last night. It wasn’t your traditional type of nightmare. I was out on a bike ride with my kids. Weird from the outset, yes? We were on a tandem – or whatever you would call a bike that could fit three of us on it… thrandem?… and my son and daughter had a harness on to keep them in the seats as we went along. We were cycling along a nice path by some very pretty cottages and gardens when we started cycling over a bridge that took us over a large pond. All of a sudden we ran out of bridge and were going up a steep bank before falling into this big pond. It was teeming with koi of all colours. I went into a panic as we fell into the water as I knew the kids were wearing harnesses and couldn’t get off the bike. It was… the most horrendous feeling. A real sinking panic, you feel it settle in the pit of your stomach like a lump of black ice. I went in after the kids and managed to pull them out. They were fine – in fact they seemed to think it was funny.

I did not find it at all funny.

Then some little old man, with a fuzz of white hair and circular framed glasses came running out of his house and started having a go at me for falling into his pond. I stood there there dripping wet, still freaking out over the kids.
“Are you kidding me?!” I hissed at him. Then I was with my husband, trying to explain what had happened and it was as if he couldn’t give a shit. He brushed me off completely and I was so enraged. I can’t remember ever feeling so angry. I mean flat out, going to do some serious damage, can’t speak because I can’t get the words past my anger kind of rage. I remember telling him I wanted a divorce because I was so furious at the way he was treating me, and he brushed that off too, as if what I said didn’t matter a jot.

The next thing I remember was being in a high street somewhere I don’t recognise. Perhaps somewhere like Bishop Stortford. I was just sort of flitting about from shop to shop, not buying anything but feeling very lost and confused, feeling as if no one cared where I was or what happened to me. I didn’t know where the children were or where I was supposed to be going. I didn’t know if I had anywhere to go. It was a horrible feeling. I woke up when my daughter came in and started bashing me with a scatter cushion, telling me it was time to get up. I protested a little that 8:30am was too early to get up on a Sunday morning but I was pleased to have been woken really. It was a horrible dream. All the worst feelings of anxiety, fear, hopelessness and confusion all loaded into one heavy old bad dream. I don’t remember eating anything out of the ordinary last night that might have caused that. Certainly no old cheese from under the grill anyway…

I think we’ve all been here...

Perhaps I just need something to inspire me, take my mind off all the weirdness that started in 2020 and then evolved into the Benny Hill Chase Scene it is today. I’m considering doing another course but I’m not sure what. They are offering a tarot card course on Wowcher for about ten pounds. Part of me fancies doing that but I’ll have more of a nose about in case there’s anything else on there. I’ve done a few courses online of late. Criminal psychology, forensics and British Sign Language were some recent ones and whilst they were ever so interesting, I don’t think I’m going to come across any deaf criminals any time soon. And if I do, I’ll probably sign something insulting by mistake – I’m not exactly fluent in signing. What I really want is something I can get my teeth into and keep running with. I’m not sure what. I’m sure something will leap out and bite me on the arse soon. Perhaps I should start writing some more things on my blog. I have a blog. This blog, although it has been quiet for quite some time on here – I apologise. Not sure what I’ll write about yet. I don’t suppose many people are going to read it. But perhaps that doesn’t matter. Perhaps it’s the writing that matters, getting something out there which may be of interest to people. Perhaps I can put something on there about my search for a new course. Or learning about Tarot and my adventures with that… That could be an interesting one. I think I’ve just sold that to myself you know…


©Nicola Kirk and 2021

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