Skip to main content

Fifth and Sixth and Seventh

Having worked in a supermarket for longer than I would have wanted, very few of my nocturnal wanderings take place in this space, which is definitely a good thing. These are the three I have written down in the past few years since starting work (and am now only part time thankfully). All of these seem to involve twilight, or an odd relationship with light, which I think is largely down to me working stupid hours.

Supermarket, shelves all higher than I expect. Some sort of scam is going on. To me 'Everything here is perfect'. How are they fiddling this? (I enjoy my lack of detail on what the scam is). A man, possibly the floor manager from TFI Friday whose name was/is Will, flies about on a hover fan type machine, inspecting things. My mum works there for an unexplained reason, and I tell her this 'Will' character is watching me. She tells me to look busy even though there is really nothing to do. Outside it seems like twilight or a late summers afternoon. Chris is there, but changes form often.

In the shop's warehouse, much larger and drawn out than in reality. Mary, the scum bag (in reality I don't think she is a scum bag, just a moany old cow), is looking for a complex computer box to control things. I wander around aimlessly. It is cold here, and often reminds me of parts of City 17. I stumble in to an unlit industrial sized fridge. Two people, possibly Joe and Michelle are in their chuckling about nothing in particular. An odd glow about the place. I refuse to walk in to the main part of the building.

In another supermarket, but one cluttered with pipes and shelves at odd angles. I eat a mushroom that has a blue pattern on the top. The space is being used for an art show, but all the regular shoppers go on buying things like there aren't huge constructs hanging, twinkling above them. All is mid evening. Mike is there, we haven't seen each other for years. I dont have enough time to talk to him.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Eighteen

This was probably the first dream I can remember having since moving back to York. It obviously harks back to specific childhood memories, blended with the usual cast of people from when I was younger (except the comedian). Misc sexual references to trains I would assume is related to Hitchcock, but perhaps Zizek is the best judge of that. Lots of symbols to wrap teeth around. 'Wandering through Putteridge Bury. An indistinct beginning, following that much traveled road to the farmhouse and dried up pond. A man spins a sports car on some gravel alongside a barn conversion I am unfamiliar with (I realised when I work up that I did know the barn...odd that whilst asleep my brain wouldn't recognise it). I walk along the track to where the old white house should be, next to the greenhouse my Dad used to own. Instead, just scrub land and some kids jumping on a knackered trampoline. I meander towards what I assume is Great Hayes; there is a long row of portaloos by the roadside. I fi...

Fifty Six

In the past few weeks I was getting a little worried that my lack of memorable midnight recollections would end this chart of nocturnal wanderings, but in the last week or so, I have remembered around 3 dreams a night; in the process of doing so, I have started using my phone to note things down rather than a pad and pen, and then email myself so I actually remember I have the material. Remembering is half the battle. This dream I thought pertinent as I have just finished marking student essays for Spring Term (and presumably this is what inspired it) 'I am circling some sort of warehouse, possibly owned and run by Argos. Inside, a number of my students have killed a man by beating him to death. They now fall about laughing whilst bouncing off inflatable children’s toys. I try to remain stoic in the face of horror, concerned that I may be next. I talk to them a while, and on finding out that ____ is their ring leader, I try to escape. Every path leads back to the warehouse. Insi...

Number 2

This was a classic example of my being in three states; 1) asleep and imagining this scenario 2) half waking and assuming it is happening in real life and 3) writing it down 'I am woken by the sound of something smashing outside the window in the room where I sleep. I don't pull back the curtain, as I know it is some sort of fire bomb, possibly constructed from a tennis ball and matchheads, like that found in a certain cookbook. In the morning, I am outside in the road, collecting bits of paper and detritus the bomb seems to have left in its wake. A Japanese girl is helping me clear the street. We appear to be cohabiting; I am unsure if there is a sexual relationship. She is wearing shorts and a tshirt, in a very 80's style, and explains to an elderly gentleman who happens to be passing what has happened. He mumbles something in Japanese that I cannot understand. I look at the details on his wrinkled face and wonder why I am living somewhere where I understand no-one. We li...