A Disintegration Loop

'The undercroft of a castle or cathedral. A female friend – blonde, round face, but unrecognizable on waking – is telling me about an amazing man, a prophet no less, who is going to lead her/us to some unspecified promised land. I am obviously sceptical. The undercroft is arranged with a series of desks, as in a Victorian class room (all tightly packed, high, scarred wood). Everyone is wearing a white gown. The class begins, and the students and my friend are subjected to a baffling array of visuals and noises projected across the entirety of the room. Somewhere in the darkness a man is laughing. I move slowly through the flashing lights to the source of the laughter to find Chris Morris, his hair long and curly, is in fact doing all of this as an elaborate joke. I try to explain this to everyone by I am drowned out by the ‘art work’; I run out of the undercroft, aware now that the practical joke was obviously at my expense.'

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.

I missed a few months somehow (I blame late-stage PhD write up), so here are two to catch up. One is from relatively recently and the other is from some point midway through the last decade. 'On a large complex train, arranged like an Ikea store. There is, as always, nowhere to sit, but I had to catch this train. There was no other option. I move from carriage to carriage, vaguely aware of someone guiding my hand through the morass of dark green first class seats I am forbidden to sit in, and elongated Moroccan-style benches replete with sprawl-ing idiots. I eventually come across the red carriage, a sort of standard class area, but covered in beds with red duvets. There are people under the sheets but I am unable to see them. They wriggle around and make noise. By the exit, which I walk through, there is one bed with a corpse in it. What I assume is the final carriage contains a food shop like Ikea; it is only when looking out of the window that I realise I am actually in the

In a complicated lake view complex, I am trapped in a lift. After somehow escaping, I am eating some terrible lemon cake, and go out on a log raft. I am convinced the raft will sink, but the pilot seems more concerned about me drinking alcohol on board. Later I visit a rundown zoo, similar to the knackered fun house in the original Max Payne game. Lin and Zo are there, and another man. We enjoy the zoo, but as we attempt to leave we are accused of theft. I escape, but everyone else is trapped inside. I attempt to remonstrate with the owners to no avail. The fences are too high for me to get in, and I have a vague memory of trying something similar in the past. Zo eventually escapes but is covered in cuts. Following some confusion in the car, someone gives me a hand job. Later still, I wander around the HF building. It is full to bursting with strangers watching the Belgian Grand Prix. There is also an art gallery attached. Inside I am charged six quid for a slice of oddly liquid cak