Skip to main content

Forty Three

Another recent one, post wedding:

'Walking through woodland, looking for a lost dog called Lucien, a Labrador I think. He was definitely running about in the woods earlier. Well cut paths open out in to scrub-land and a brief roadside peppered with street signs to nowhere. Reminds of Thetford. Across the road some misc. men start shouting ‘Fat Simon’ at me. I turn and walk away but they follow. Lee is with them, kitted out with blue backpack and jacket a la the TBeer weekend. I recognise two of the others from UEA, one of whom is called Simon, but is not fat. We chat for a minute, me trying to diffuse a situation that could have become a fight. One of the group, a short black guy in a purple shirt, pushes me. I think his name is Daniel. I circle them. It comes to nothing. Gradually they all melt away in to the forest, leaving me walking back towards wherever I started, without the dog. The path to the unspecified exit is lined by people lacing and unlacing ridiculously oversized boots.'

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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...

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.

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.'