Just after 3am I took the N9 bus to Hounslow from Trafalgar Square. I sat as usual on the front seat on the second floor of the red double-decker, so that I could enjoy the view of the London night scenery. I opened the window to get some fresh air, as the stark smell of beer, sweat, vomit and cigarette on wet clothes was unbearable. At Piccadilly Circus a straight good looking guy, who had most likely had too many beers, got on the bus and sat next to me. At the Hide Park Corner stop the bus-driver argued with a man, who had tried to get a free ride, sneaking in with the other passengers. When the bus reached Knightsbridge, the cute straight guy’s head was resting on my right shoulder. In Hammersmith I watched the police arresting some blokes, who had probably broken the window of a café, when the guy’s head finally slipped on my laps. Eventually I woke him up, he found out that he had missed his stop and got off in Chiswick. As the cute guy left and we reached the more residential and uninteresting Brentford my eyes started getting heavy and eventually they closed in Isleworth. Suddenly the bus turned on the right, an empty bottle of beer rolled fast and crashed on a metal bar, my dream was interrupted, I opened my eyes, looked outside and I shouted: “Stooooop, stop!!! I have to get off here!” My guardian angel had woken me up at the right time.
I was walking in the rain along the Hanworth Road when I had the feeling that someone was following me. I looked behind and I saw some people about 50 meters away. I did not feel safe and I decided to walk faster. The rain got heavier, I started running and my shoes were splashing on the wet pavement. When I reached home, I noticed that the door of the building was open. I went up the stairs so slowly and silently that I could hear my heart beating. The first floor was clear and as I looked above, it seemed there was no one on the second floor either. I speeded up, I turned left and I was on the last set of steps, where the unforeseeable was waiting for me. All of a sudden I was under shock: a dark figure was lying before my eyes and I could not move. I did not know if the man was sleeping, or if he was dead and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find that out. He was a tall guy, with long hair and was probably on his thirty. Eventually I took courage and I tried to touch his shoe with my foot, to see if he was moving. He did not react. I said a few words and suddenly he woke up. He pronounced something incomprehensible, which was probably the follow up of the dream that I had just interrupted. I told him that I could not understand him and I asked him if he would let me walk across to reach my door. “It’s raining and cold outside, do you mind if I sleep here, mate?” he asked. After giving him my permission, I reached my flat and locked the door. Daryl was sleeping already.