In France

I am on the continent, possibly France. Jenny LF is with. I have somewhere I have to go. There is a guy, with dark curly hair, a bit like the man off Top Gear (not Jeremy the other one). I have to walk across this very thin strip of land that joins two places very far apart, is made up of just sand. At a certain times is covered by the sea. I have got about half way. I’m not sure what’s there or why I have to be there.

I am walking back and I see a coach coming towards me. It is brown and picking up lots of sand. I don’t know which way to throw myself, then I decide I haven’t got time to get out of the way and throw myself on the ground hoping the wheels will miss me. But the coach is very low to the ground and my head gets hit by the underside (doesn’t really hurt though?). It stops before I have come out the other side. I wriggle free.

I carry on walking back and go and find Jenny LF, my mum is there too. Jenny had gone too but she started walking back sooner. The man with curly hair just stood and watched as the sea came in, throwing his arms in the air as if he wanted the sea to take him, it didn’t, and he was fine. The coach comes back and I confront the driver. He’s not very nice. He’s a big man, over weight, hairy, not very clever. I want to know why he didn’t stop. He says I should have moved out of the way. I say I didn’t have time to think. I tell I’m autistic, and that the part of my brain that makes decisions doesn’t work very well. I say it’s a bit like when a rabbit is caught in headlights, it loses it’s decision making function. He doesn’t say anything. I walk away, I think I had the upper hand there.

Me, Mum and Jenny are standing at the beginning of a street. There are old buildings on both sides of the street. They are in rows, right up against each other and varying different heights and sizes. They are all architecturally different and attractive. Some have shutters and some have balconies. It looks like a scene
from a painting by a famous French painter Lautrec. The street is badly made, it is just sand and dirt, there are lots of puddles. It is night, but the place is very busy still. The shops are open and people are out in the street. There is a girl standing in the street handing out leaflets. She looks very different to everybody else. She is just wearing grey jeans and a t-shirt, her hair is tied back in a ponytail. I think she is gay. She tries to hand me a leaflet, but my automatic response is to say no thank you and I walk away. She says ‘Ah, that’s sweet.’ Which is a strange thing to say because I don’t think I was very nice.

I am in a large hall the walls of which are panelled in a dark wood. It looks like an old building. There are people sitting at desks, around the side of the room stand soldiers in green uniforms with brass buttons and flat hats. They look foreign. The people sitting at the desks are clearly frightened. I think this is a dictatorship. I have come to see one of the women there. She has is also in some kind of green uniform, she has blond hair. I start talking to her, I am telling her about the coach business. She nods her head in the direction of one of the soldiers. I don’t think I am supposed to be telling her this. We both start talking in a pretend foreign language so they don’t understand what we are saying (only we don’t understand each other either!).

There is a woman, she has something to do with art, she looks like my old English teacher Miss Buckley. She isn’t one of us. There are a few others who are with me. We go into this room with her, we going to write or make something creative. I think Jenny LF is with me. We are making something together. It looks like a keyboard made out of paper. There are different pieces you can pull out. I think it is something to do with the strip of land we visited. We are explaining it to the woman. It’s something to do with geography and taking you somewhere. The woman turns into the black lady off escape to the country.