5th February 2018


Last night I woke up screaming.  The back of my nighty was covered in blood.   My mother was in the room, terribly distressed, and I tried to pass it off, saying “I have a heavy period.”  I went to the toilet and peed a bowlful of blood, there was so much and it was so black I was terrified.

Then I was lying in a bed in a pleasant and sunny room which I understood, but couldn’t see, was located at the end of a long corridor.  It was not a hospital, but perhaps an old style African hotel or guest house.  I knew it was Africa.  And I knew I was isolated and there were no other people around.

I woke up to see a black man standing staring at me at the end of the bed, upon which had been placed several African wooden carved artifacts.

Alarmed, I struggled to get out of bed, feeling the weight of those artifacts on my feet.

Without a word, he came towards me and forced me backwards, to the wall beside the bed.  His face was greasy, it was coffee coloured, sprinkled with blackheads, and his eyes were focused on something evil.  He pushed my shoulders to the wall and leaned into me, he was strong and I felt his breath and I realized I was about to be raped.

I opened my mouth and shouted “Help!” but nothing came out.  Terrified, I tried, but again, nothing happened.

Then, through a slice of window where the curtain had been pushed aside, I saw two children, a boy and a girl, aged about eleven.  I thought of two things:  this is my opportunity to be saved if only I could emit a sound.  Secondly, what could these two kids do to help me?

I opened my mouth.

And screamed.


NB:  Gerald immediately woke to save me, and said my scream should have woken the neighbours.  He couldn’t go back to sleep and took his book to read in the lounge for two hours.  My body shook and I whimpered.  I didn’t go back to sleep for a long time.


Sandra GroomComment