Collins

(The writing in this set was inspired by dreams. For more info read
'An Explanation - 25 Dreams')

I am late. Hopefully, Ian has made it upstairs in time as he was just
ahead of me and I cannot see him now. I tried to follow him into the
main entrance, but it was locked and so I have to use the side
door.

The side door is a hole in the wall, like a shop front with no door or
windows. I walk in and the lighting is faulty so that there is a kind
of strobe effect. The floor is wet and stinks of piss. Floating on the
surface are little tickets, like raffle tickets, some are ripped
up.

There are stacks of rubbish in black bin bags and boxes piled up
precariously against walls. I can't believe this is the BBC.

Enough of this. I am late.

I get in a lift, the doors already open, the light in here flickers
too. There is a notice board at the back, the pink, blue and white
notices protected by glass. I am surrounded by metal in here and the
metallic echo of my feet on the lift floor promote the feeling that
this is a cage. I push the floor buttons to get this over with as soon
as possible.

Nothing.

Happens.

I wait a while, patiently, before I notice a sign, printed and taped to
the side of the lift.

OUT OF
ORDER

Embarrassed, I exit the lift and as I look for the stairs I notice a
security guard in full uniform, like a New York cop, his appearance a
direct contrast to the shitty surroundings, and he has a night stick in
his belt, and a little radio, and he is looking at me strangely.

I look back at the lift and I see that it is not a lift at all. There
is a toilet bowl in plain view, white porcelain splattered with crap,
the white, plastic seat lying splintered on the floor amidst masses of
wet, unrolled paper. The light in there flickers too.

I don't look back at the security guard.

I just find the stairs.