Dark forboding dreams of blackness, of running but not getting anywhere, of a plane crashing and being unable to move, of vistas of fire, caverns, dark mountains where shadowy beasts are in the shadows waiting for you to get close.
To eat you. Being knawed on by demons, demons with the breath od smoke, horns, a tail.
Smiling, as they lap your blood. Screaming, high pitched coming from elsewhere, a body being consumed by a jurrassic monster, pale faces, wide with shock, fearful, hysterical, all trying to escape the jaws, and you, Cambridge fans awaiting your turn at being consumed by the monster of relegation.
Your dreams obliterated, digested by the monster of inadequacy, fed by the pauper Barry, whos idea of a team is Dunk. Dunk, and the rest, Cambridge players playing for Cambridge, when they should be playing for Solihull, Kings Lynn, and Bishops Stortford.
It will get worse.
Viva Barry.....
