Dystopian Brexit nightmares

Last night was the second night in a row that I’ve had a dystopian nightmare about Brexit Britain. The one I had on Sunday night / Monday morning was worse though.  In the nightmare, I was arrested for simply being a Remainer and held in a filthy cell for days, until I was forced to meet Britain’s new Prime Minister, Boris Johnson.  He made me sign pieces of paper to say that I would abandon socialism and support the ‘new United Kingdom’, or I would be tortured.  I refused to sign the first time around, so they put me in a cage that was too narrow for me to sit down or even move much, so I was in agony due to having spinal stenosis / sciatica.  I ended up signing because I was in too much pain and I just wanted to leave.  I woke up after that with a considerable amount of back pain.

In the nightmare I had last night, I was sent to Scotland on some sort of mission that basically set me up to fail.  The train was late and I failed at whatever the task was.  In the nightmare, the towns and cities I passed through on the train were decaying and overgrown, with brunt out cars add refuse littering the streets.  When I arrived in Scotland, I had to pretend to be American so that they didn’t think I was English, as anti-English sentiment was at an all time high in Scotland, after they were repeatedly refused a referendum on independence and the entire country had been placed under martial law by Westminster.

Even if by some miracle Brexit is stopped, I still don’t wan to live in the UK.  I’ve experienced how different life could be both here in the Netherlands and during my time in Canada.  I’ve been here for 2 weeks now and there’s honestly nothing that I dislike about the place.  I accept that I’m never going to fit in with people anywhere, but at least they leave me the fuck alone here.  For a small and densely populated country, it’s actually very easy to get away from people or avoid them completely, even during weekends.  There are kids and teenagers here too and they scare me anywhere, but I don’t run into many of them, even at weekends.

I cycled to The Hague yesterday and took loads of pictures of the city centre, as I didn’t really explore it last time I was there.  It was really busy, but I didn’t feel too intimidated, although t’s still painful to see couples and families everywhere, as is the case at weekends.  The Hague is a nice city and I would totally live there. It has a proper city centre with loads of good stores (a lot of the same retail chains you find in the UK) and plenty of cafes and restaurants.  The beaches are beautiful, big and sandy too and all is very accessible by bike.  I found a few nice urban parks too and I was able to sit in them without seeing many people (I would not have been able to do this in Grantham or even Nottingham).

PHOTOS: The Hague 13/06/19 & 16/06/19

A guy I’ve been talking to suggested that if I wanted to stay here and the UK crashes out of the EU, I should apply for asylum. I’d probably be denied the first time, but that could take a year.  I would then appeal and that could drag it out further, but by then I may not be forced to leave, especially if pro-European countries plan to take British citizens in as a “fuck you” message to British populists who sought to not only leave the EU, but damage it.  The problem is that I’m not from a country like Syria, where people are fleeing for their lives.

But the idea of living here and having some semblance of a life is a pure pipe dream or a fantasy.  It might be feasible if I had the necessary survival skills and the confidence, but I don’t.  I couldn’t even manage living on my own in my country of origin, never mind try to start again in a new country and with having to learn a new language with my poor learning skills.  My fate has essentially been sealed by autism, ugliness, dyspraxia, my gender identity and by 17 million British Leave voters.

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