A hazily-remembered but terrible and depressing dream... starting in a pseudo-Glasgow - the country was on the brink of nuclear conflict. Urban scenarios in Victorian official buildings; eventually I became aware that an atmosphere of resigned, grotesque, crazy fatalism had taken over, reminiscent of the film 'Downfall'.
Next, my wife J and I were abandoning the city at my insistence and heading (sometimes by car, sometimes by foot) towards Loch Lomond. Although there were no scenes of mass exodus - we seemed to be the only people heading for the countryside - we travelled through an increasingly lawless and chaotic Scotland. By the time we reached a pseudo-Helensburgh, the townspeople were flooding out of the town buildings with the news that missiles had been launched and were on their way.
Looking down the River Clyde towards Glasgow (things seeming to have become geographically reversed) I could see, against a clear afternoon sky, the missile glimmering... red metallic paint. And then, a mushroom cloud, smaller and more fiery than I expected. I watched it for a while, a column of flames shooting upwards from a small area of ground before realising that our journey should continue as soon as possible.
Therafter, an increasingly despairing trek further into the wilderness; a feeling of being aware that I was deliberately shutting off concerns about food and shelter, and our future in general.