Thirty Five and Thirty Six

Shockingly I managed to forget to post a dream for March, so I am here combining March and April in to one all consuming somnolencefest. Additionally, last night I had an odd dream in which a man named Mafooz was convinced I had slept with 'his girl' and waited with a gang of people outside my parent's house to 'beat me up'. When he learnt I wasn't in (I was, just spying from a distant window), he cut off the head of Mick over the road and threw it through my window as 'a message'. Grim. Any way...

'Lanark style, this one. In tenements of Glasgow, except at the time I think it to be elsewhere [?]. Find a small newsagents, with a labyrinthine underworld through the back door. The place is made of old fabric, and fucked stairs. I follow a woman through numerous passage ways, under wooden constructs and mangled embroidery. Her head is that of a freakishly large woman, but with shapely legs. Eventually I emerge at the beginning of the shop, where Dad is buying a card with his own printed message on it. They overcharge him. I point out they have spelt one of the words wrong.'

'In a house I apparently share with people from the PhD course. There is some sort of power outage whereby I need to go in to the basement to fix it. Tom is there, dressed in Safari gear, hitting his head off ironing boards and doors as he runs about chaotically. I go upstairs to ask Keith what is going on. He turns so slowly that I think he is trapped in time. He is unable to answer me.'

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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...

Fifty One

'Spending time living in a valley, where the only access is one road in and out. Everyone I explain this to seems confused by how a road can only go in two directions, suggesting an understanding of directional space I am not privy to. In a hut on one side of the valley I find some serum in a jar that tells me if I drink it that I’ll forget whatever I’m dreaming about. I am reminded of Alice in Wonderland. In the valley bottom, I drink from the jar in front of a small circle of onlookers. Rather than forget, or mutate or something, what actually happens is the sky changes from blue to red, and the sun becomes a cut out child’s collage of various spiky colours, similar to the front cover of an album for Mount Vernon Art Labs which was designed by the friend of someone who once spoke to me at a conference, but subsequently abandoned in favour of Julian House's designs when the band released the record with Ghost Box. I also own a jeep.'

Sixty Eight

In some sort of wasteland, possibly Malton from urbandead but in reality. The buildings and general lay out of the space appears to be a grid system, dark green, crisscrossing and bisecting the land; it resembles a giant board game. The sky is muted orange, and I have a feeling there is something lurking in the increasing shadows that dusk has introduced. Someone who I am with shows me around their flat. From the window I see abandoned car parks, and in the distance lakes and mountains, though this view is partially obscured by smoke rising from refineries that seem to encircle the town. The light is falling away. No-one is on the street when I am taken to the next house. The view from the window is the other house. Each subsequent place I am shown around offers a view of the preceding property. I am caught in a loop of property viewing, with some unknown menace responsible for the trap I find myself in.

A Disintegration Loop

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