Had two very queer dreams the other night, in the early hours of the morning. In the first I was in the basement of a large building, it seemed to be in London, when bombs fell loudly and terrifyingly near. The place trembled violently, and a piece of stone fell on my foot.
I woke up, badly frightened, but fell asleep again only to have this second dream. I was with a girl in Wimpole Road, near Miss Bowle’s house. It was a dusky evening. Suddenly I noticed a golden coloured aeroplane high in the sky, diving towards us. Its wings were not noticeable. It dived down, flattened out a little, and then dived again, while I saw bombs fall out of it in the direction of the Gas Works, which oddly enough were visible from where we stood. The plane came zooming up, dropped some more bombs, and flew away firing its machine-guns. I thought “How convenient to be able to stand here and see an air-raid” and did not feel at all frightened. The girl (who left no impression) and I then walked towards the Gas Works but the dream became confused and I remember no more.