I'm running along the window ledges of buildings, dodging the flowers that have grown in the cracks between indivdual blocks of granite.

Multi-colored lichen surrounds their bases, highlighting the flowers' triumph over the cold stone. They remind me that no one is around to care for these buildings and that nature, the wild, will gladly reclaim all that we have built.

A child plays an imaginary sport in the street below. The borrowed football pads too big on his small shoulders and wiry frame. He dodges around cars that have long sat still in the empty streets.

I hear the crack of a rifle shot and the screams as I approach the theater.

She comes running out and I know that I am too late.

"They've killed her," the daughter says in that too-wise voice of hers. "They've won."

I think that it can't be true, it can't be true, that baby was going to save us all.

I'm either outside at night or in a room with the walls, floor and ceiling painted black. A spotlight is shining on me.

I'm in the centre of a group of men. They look drunk and bloodthirsty. None of them have shirts.

I'm facing another man. He isn't wearing a shirt either. I realise that I am not wearing a shirt.

He throws a punch at me, and I block it, but his wrist is unharmed because I am wearing long, thick gloves which cover my forearms. He keeps coming, and I don't know why. I keep blocking and throwing punches whenever I see an opening.

They are good, fast, solid blows, and I connect with his nose, jaw, temple and the point of his chin, but somehow the gloves absorb all the energy from the strikes.

The circle of people are cheering. They look as if they have lost control. They are like animals. They scream abuse, I don't know if it is directed towards me or the opponent.

The fight continues until my adversary backs off, smiling.

I don't know why I didn't just take off the gloves.

Update: Since having this dream I have seen the movie Fight Club. I had never seen it before, and the similarity was lost on me.

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