In a sunny market I was looking at produce stalls when an announcement came over the air raid bugles. The loudspeakers from every direction — there were at least 6 in that block, two at each end and one middle — crackled and ordered Mohammad A. (in the dream the recognizable local Federal Green Party Rep) to report to the Tobacco Shop/Citizenship office immediately.
I saw someone bustle out of another building and beeline that way. I shadowed him. Inside the cluttered shop, I remarked how odd it was that he was redhead with a British accent. For some reason this made me laugh so much that I nearly woke myself.
There was some low conferring and muttering of the clerk. Then the MPs telegraph was being read to him. Green's head office informed him that was to convert to the Conservative Party immediately. His head bowed and he looked defeated for a breath, then his head raised. A glint and resolve came to his eye and I wondered whether I should be comforted or afraid.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago