An Interesting Dream

In which The Author takes his daytime reading matter into his subconscious world

As my regular readers know, I started re-reading The Lord of the Rings recently (see Tears Before Bedtime.)

After I’d finished it, I made a determined effort to finish The Silmarillion, which completely left me for dead when I first bought it. I just wish I’d had the patience to stick with it years ago, or the nerve to tackle it again when I was a bit older. Never mind. It’s filled in the gaps in my knowledge of the Elder Days, and given me a new safe word in case I ever get a new girlfriend who’s into bondage. Better late than never, eh?

In the meantime, a very good friend (who shall remain nameless for obvious reasons) provided me with Sir Peter Jackson’s films of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. I’ve watched them all three times each, and they’re quickly becoming my favourite films of all time. The Tolkien surge continues unabated in my house, as I’m currently halfway through reading The Two Towers yet again.

Last night I had a rather odd dream, no doubt inspired by the spectacular sequence in The Return of the King where the beacons of Gondor are lit.

I live in a fairly upland area of South Wales, hemmed in by high ground on both sides and the Brecon Beacons away to the north. Maybe that’s why the whole ‘beacons’ thing stuck in my mind. I don’t know.

Anyway, last night, obviously with this sequence in the back of my mind, I dreamt that I was sitting on the ridge of the Maerdy Mountain (between Aberdare and the Rhondda Fach Valley, a little way to the west.) Nearby was a large circular stone tower, filled with timber and kindling. I was on my own, and with my binoculars I kept scanning the mountain tops on all sides.

Eventually I spotted a fire some distance away, on the high ground near the Gas Tanks on the A465. That was my signal to act. I lit a dry branch from a pine tree (the hillsides of South Wales are covered in them!) and thrust it into a hole at the base of the tower. The kindling quickly caught ablaze and the fire spread up through the tower, drawing the blaze upwards and pulling air in to fuel it. Within a minute or so a great flame was roaring from the top of the tower.

I looked to the west, and a couple of minutes later I saw a fire start up on the summit by Penrhys. Further to the north, I could already make out distant lights on the Brecon Beacons. As I watched, a bright flame bloomed into life on the Merthyr Mountain above Abernant, followed by one above Cefnpennar and another above Mountain Ash. I knew then that similar beacons were being lit across the length and breadth of South Wales. It was obviously a signal that the people of the Valleys were waking up, and were about to rise and march as one.

I can only assume that the target of our anger was the Welsh Assembly building in Cardiff Bay. If it was a localized protest, the fires would have been confined to our valley and the Rhondda and Taff-Ely areas.

I woke up feeling hugely inspired, and wondering whether a massive visible protest like this could actually happen in the real world. It would certainly be more eye-catching and dramatic than just sending a few texts, or posting something on Facebook, wouldn’t it?

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