In the Autumn of 1990, I was a young man traveling from London by train to a coastal, ferry port on the east coast of England.
I crossed the North Sea and without staying a while in the Netherlands, I took an overnight train to Copenhagen. The following day I arrived in the city and spent a few days staying at the Seaman's Mission - a cheap hotel in the city centre. The second night I slept at the hostel, I awoke in the early morning from a nightmare. I was covered in sweat and my dreams had left me disturbed. In the dream a close friend of mine was frantic with grief. He stood at a phone box near his parent's house. He was surrounded by other friends - mutual friends of both his and mine (although I sensed their identities, I seem to recall they were visually indistinct). The dream left me a bit shaken but I put it down to being young in a new environment etc. I spent the morning in the city then impulsively decided to make another journey by train - this time to Amsterdam. The following morning and I am approaching the central station of Amsterdam. I find a room in a three star hotel on Damrak and go to my room. I decide to telephone a couple of friends back in the UK to tell them I am in Holland. They inform me that a close friend of mine (and the friend in the dream) has taken his own life.
As you can imagine (or know from personal experience) this is a total hammerblow. Especially as the deceased was outwardly a very laid back and well liked character.
I returned back to the UK forthwith and the funeral service followed the next week.
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