I was in a house in which I lived a long time ago. I thought I was alone until I heard a noise upstairs, which I went to investigate. I walked into the back bedroom and saw a man – a complete stranger – on his knees, rummaging through a cupboard. I asked him who he was and what he wanted, and when he declined to acknowledge me or my enquiries, I ordered him to leave.
He continued to ignore me, so I took my mobile phone out of my pocket and dialled 999. I thought it might encourage him to leave if he knew the police were about to turn up. He was tall and well built, so any physical encounter was to be avoided.
When the call was answered, a woman’s voice began to trot out a load of gibberish that sounded like some sort of computer code. I was distracted momentarily from the intruder, and when I looked again, he’d gone. Except he hadn’t. I turned to see him sitting under the window on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. He had his overcoat pulled around him as though he was cold, and his knees were drawn up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. He looked lugubrious at least, if not actually depressed. He smiled sardonically and told me what the computer code meant, and then I woke up.
Who the hell was he, and what was he doing in my subconscious?