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Authors: Phil Sloan
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Wandering down some side streets and alleyways I haven’t got a clue where I am, just glad of the respite. The night is warm, dry and I start to feel a tiny bit better. As I turn a corner I see an amazing sight: The Rijksmuseum lit up in all its glory.
All that architecture stuff seems well poncey to me. How people get in such a big froth about bricks and mortar is well beyond me but there is something about this building that is absolutely stunning. Looking up at the huge towers and the shadows cast all over this vast building really takes my breath away.
Suddenly I can hear a choir singing which is really strange as I am nowhere near a church. Their voices are incredible and they must be Dutch as I can’t understand a word of it. But then I realise that it’s far too late for any God-botherers to be up at this time of night and I wonder where it is coming from. Listening to the harmonies makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This lot have the voices of angels.
I feel amazing. There seems to be a golden glow of light around me like I’m starring in a Ready Break TV advert from the 1970’s. I then see a vision of my future. It is as if there is a glitch in The Matrix or a tear in the space/time continuum or something as I get to see myself years ahead.
In the dream my wife and I are walking through a field of lush green grass. There are tall trees in the distance that we are casually striding towards. The sun is shining and it’s one of those days that make you feel glad to be alive. We’re holding hands with a little boy who we are swinging between us. We shout ‘One Two Three’ and then swing him up into the air. I look down at my son who has spikey blonde hair and the most incredible icy blue eyes.
He is giggling and screaming out ‘Again! Again!’ I am overcome with happiness. In this vision my lad is about five years old and he stares up at me and says four words that melt my heart ‘I love you Daddy.’ I reply ‘I love you too son.’
I glance over at my Mrs who is also grinning from ear to ear. The three of us are then walking on laughing together.
Then there’s a loud popping sound that ends the vision, the weird glow and the singing all at once like a television going off in a power cut. I am utterly convinced that I had just had a sneaky peek at an event that was years in my future. I am overwhelmed and overjoyed.
This is my Fortean Times moment. I have never seen a ghost or a UFO in real life (I would love to) but I know that this vision was the real deal, a glimpse of what will be.
Seeing my future son has filled my soul with goodness. I’m not going to be the fuck up I thought I would become, I will have something worth living for, a family and a happy one at that. I’m going to have someone to be proud of and look after so I’ll have to knock my drinking and immature ways…it’s a good intention that will never happen but just for those few seconds I actually fool myself into believing I will do. These are the typical delusions of a drunken man.
I feel a huge lurch in my stomach. I am going to be a father one day, I know it. It doesn’t scare me at all; I can’t wait to meet my son. Looking up at the stars I see the moon which is shining as brightly as a ravers glow stick. I stare at it dumbstruck for far too long as my head starts spinning again. I get a watery taste of bile in the back of my throat and know that Charlie Chunder has come a knocking.
Suddenly without warning I vomit hard and fast. A column of sick comes racing out my north and south (mouth) covering my shirt, jeans and shoes. I am bringing up litres of spew, far more than seems humanly possible to hold in your gut sack.
All the greasy, fatty, crap food I’ve consumed to soak up the gallons of alcoholic fluids over the last twenty four hours now covers me and on the floor there is a multicoloured pavement pizza the size and depth of the kid’s pool at the local swimming baths. I am in a right
Wandering down some side streets and alleyways I haven’t got a clue where I am, just glad of the respite. The night is warm, dry and I start to feel a tiny bit better. As I turn a corner I see an amazing sight: The Rijksmuseum lit up in all its glory.
All that architecture stuff seems well poncey to me. How people get in such a big froth about bricks and mortar is well beyond me but there is something about this building that is absolutely stunning. Looking up at the huge towers and the shadows cast all over this vast building really takes my breath away.
Suddenly I can hear a choir singing which is really strange as I am nowhere near a church. Their voices are incredible and they must be Dutch as I can’t understand a word of it. But then I realise that it’s far too late for any God-botherers to be up at this time of night and I wonder where it is coming from. Listening to the harmonies makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This lot have the voices of angels.
I feel amazing. There seems to be a golden glow of light around me like I’m starring in a Ready Break TV advert from the 1970’s. I then see a vision of my future. It is as if there is a glitch in The Matrix or a tear in the space/time continuum or something as I get to see myself years ahead.
In the dream my wife and I are walking through a field of lush green grass. There are tall trees in the distance that we are casually striding towards. The sun is shining and it’s one of those days that make you feel glad to be alive. We’re holding hands with a little boy who we are swinging between us. We shout ‘One Two Three’ and then swing him up into the air. I look down at my son who has spikey blonde hair and the most incredible icy blue eyes.
He is giggling and screaming out ‘Again! Again!’ I am overcome with happiness. In this vision my lad is about five years old and he stares up at me and says four words that melt my heart ‘I love you Daddy.’ I reply ‘I love you too son.’
I glance over at my Mrs who is also grinning from ear to ear. The three of us are then walking on laughing together.
Then there’s a loud popping sound that ends the vision, the weird glow and the singing all at once like a television going off in a power cut. I am utterly convinced that I had just had a sneaky peek at an event that was years in my future. I am overwhelmed and overjoyed.
This is my Fortean Times moment. I have never seen a ghost or a UFO in real life (I would love to) but I know that this vision was the real deal, a glimpse of what will be.
Seeing my future son has filled my soul with goodness. I’m not going to be the fuck up I thought I would become, I will have something worth living for, a family and a happy one at that. I’m going to have someone to be proud of and look after so I’ll have to knock my drinking and immature ways…it’s a good intention that will never happen but just for those few seconds I actually fool myself into believing I will do. These are the typical delusions of a drunken man.
I feel a huge lurch in my stomach. I am going to be a father one day, I know it. It doesn’t scare me at all; I can’t wait to meet my son. Looking up at the stars I see the moon which is shining as brightly as a ravers glow stick. I stare at it dumbstruck for far too long as my head starts spinning again. I get a watery taste of bile in the back of my throat and know that Charlie Chunder has come a knocking.
Suddenly without warning I vomit hard and fast. A column of sick comes racing out my north and south (mouth) covering my shirt, jeans and shoes. I am bringing up litres of spew, far more than seems humanly possible to hold in your gut sack.
All the greasy, fatty, crap food I’ve consumed to soak up the gallons of alcoholic fluids over the last twenty four hours now covers me and on the floor there is a multicoloured pavement pizza the size and depth of the kid’s pool at the local swimming baths. I am in a right
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