I get the weirdest dreams with melatonin. Let me give you an example:
I am a spectator at the Kokugikan stadium in Tokyo. The last bout of the day in which yokozuna Hakuho faces yokozuna Terunofuji. An explosive bout and one in which Hakuho prevails. He punches the air in victory (something yokozuna never do) and I decide to head for the exit to beat the rush of people leaving. I know a shortcut. Trotting along one of the aerial walkways in the stadium (there are none in reality) I meet Hakuho, armed with a revolver. He fires a shot and I feel it hit my shoulder (I think that corresponded with my pain as I fell out of bed.).
Suddenly we are in dense green forest in Greenland, walking along a long straight path from glade to glade with an unidentified girlfriend. We say little or nothing. The light is a beautiful dappled green , bright among the tall pines. Our breath and footsteps are the only sounds. As we walk, it starts to snow and by the time we emerge from the forest, the snow is more than a metre deep. Progress is slow but somehow we know that we have to reach this tiny chapel in the middle of a frozen lake.
As we reach the church, the girlfriend says “open the communion wine and choose a gun. They will be after us”. Suddenly there is now a third person with us. Unshaven, he speaks only in grunts. While I rummage around for glasses in the sacristy, he drinks from the bottle. Claret not Burgundy I note. There is a smell of incense in the air. We know “they” will be here by nightfall.
We wait and eventually, emerging from the fog are soldiers, perhaps a hundred, skeletal figures in bearskins tramping and stumbling through the snow. They open fire in a hail of bullets and as I am hit, I wake up. I am on the floor, wrapped in my bedclothes. It takes me a minute or so to work out where I am. I can’t find my wallet. Or the girlfriend.