A Disintegration Loop

A final post for the year, sent early to avoid my forgetting; 'I am planning a holiday with old Uni chums, in much the same way as the TDEER weekend happened. I have to travel in advance of the group by train to scope out where it is we are going. Whilst on the train it becomes obvious to me that I have forgotten completely. Never mind, I'm in Norwich suddenly, except it is The City's version of Norwich, so part St.Ives, part LA. I've reached the centre on the Uni bus, which I was inexplicably not charged for. A teenage couple behind me serenade each other, in a way not dissimilar to Palomino Molero in Llosa's book of the same name. When I disembark, I walk around and look at the long bearded men that seem to populate the promenade. Following a kid through some back streets I emerge at UEA, but an odd hydroponic style version where everything is under three inches of water. My camera won't work. When I try to take pictures with the faulty camera, a man holds a p

The dream below, a very current one, combines a brief mention of the Mostyn Gallery, a recollection of seeing Peter Sallis, and my brief annoyance at a four star hotel for having no locks on their toilet doors, though a man didn't walk in. It is another Asda dream. Depressing. I think it is because I remembered that I left there over a year ago. It is also the second dream I have had involving an art show in a supermarket. Any way; 'I am shopping with a small old man, who may or may not be Peter Sallis. He roams aimlessly, pointing things out like the fact some of the crisps are called Jorges Borges – which I remark is pretty classy for a supermarket . Zoe is also there, looking for baking stuff which they don't have. Also, a faint hint of some mad woman at the old style deli. There is a closed art show in the space where George once was. In the toilets, a man walks in on me as I finish taking a shit. I grab him by the neck and throw him in to a mirror, breaking it. 'Ha