Rereading 'Under Milk Wood' by Dylan Thomas recently, I wondered what the residents of Silverton dream about when they are curled up under their duvets late at night. Do they dream about things that might happen in our own village ?. Given that, according to surveys, many people dream about the Queen, do people dream about Her Maj being driven down Fore Street in an open carraige driven by one of our prominent residents, or maybe dropping in to have lunch wirth the OAPs at the Lamb Inn Shed on a tuesday lunchtime. Maybe they dream about pleasurable things that might happen in the village such as Silverton in summer or lazing in the garden. Maybe their dreams veer towards the naughty end of the spectrum, watching 20 naked virgins dancing around the flagpole in the little rec or being chased by a hunky builder around Broad Oak... with the inevitable surrender. Maybe nightmareish visions affect their slumbers with the residents of the churchyard rising from their places of eternal rest and stalking the village streets or monstrous beasts descending the hill from Christ Cross. And of course their dreams might just veer towards the fantastical with the church clock melting and sliding down the Tower walls, giant chocolate bars flying over Wyndham road or the landlords of the Lamb, Silverton Inn and Three Tuns standing in the streets dressed only in their underwear, handing out free beer to the passers by.
More likely though the most popular dream of the residents of Silverton as they curl up and slumber under the blankets, aware of approaching winter, is that they have won the lottery and have gone off to somewhere much warmer.
A budding Silvertonian Dylan Thomas would have to take that into account if writing an equivelent to 'Under Milk Wood'.
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