A Disintegration Loop

Having now lived in York for a year or more, my selection turns to a dream from the first week back, involving extreme cold and soldiers who on reflection are quite similar to the front cover art of PS3 failure 'Haze'. I think it is partially inspired by a trip to Edinburgh- 'In the Himalayas, staying in some sort of lodge with close friends. The night skies are purple and cold. I walk in the snow with Zoe, and wander up a short incline to what is 'Everest'. The temperature drop is considerable. We go back a few times over successive days (though the days themselves are not featured in any way aside from brief glimpses of wooden lodges and warm drinks that are more akin to Switzerland than Nepal; the layout of the area is the same as the opening to Goldeneye, with the start point being the aforementioned incline). We leave at an unspecified time, but Thos chooses to stay on at the lodge. I am convinced that with the rest of us leaving he will freeze to death. This t...

Whilst rooting about in old notebooks to try and find a short story I am cannibalising, this old dream popped up. Normally they go in to the book to the right of the bed, but this one some how ended up in a Uni notebook from 2005, about ten pages before the aforementioned short (you can tell how much I enjoyed my 3rd year lectures). 'At a temple run by a friend. I am not religious, but I want to show his endeavour my support. Many faiths worship there. I am unsure what specific religions are involved. I am also apparently in some kind of homosexual relationship with the receptionist. The layout of the building is like that or the department of biology at the university of Northampton, but it sits on the site of The Barrels pub. The A505 has been replaced by allotments. One evening, there is an attack on the temple. A green eyed woman uses some sort of swirling blue fire to sweep away furniture etc. She sucks people in to a vacuum also. I escape via a half open window and take to t...

I believe this dream happened during my third year in Norwich (I should really start dating the scribbles). The most vivid elements were the map I studied for some time, much longer than the descriptions of the rest of the dream put together, and the disturbing Ballardian landscape we wandered through. Suburbia is indeed disturbing (I was childishly tempted to write disturbia), and this is not helped by me being on my third Ballard novel in a row. Normally, I'll read one book and then avoid the author for an age, but this time has been very odd. Instead of dreaming about new Ballard-inspired things, I am instead reminded of things in their already past, imagined by my brain as fresh directions in a familiar city. Truly horrific. Anyway... 'We are living in a leafy suburb of London. Many of us, including Chris and Lauren Mather, go to collect Lee and Alison from a train that resembles those used by the Nazi's to transport Jews/homosexuals/gypsy's/general non-Aryan's...

A zombie celebrity based dream, featuring the usual city but this time submerged beneath the sea. Retrospectively, I suppose the place was sort of a cross between Rapture in Bioshock, and Blade Runner's Los Angeles 2017. It also marks the first dream I've had involving the library. 'A city submerged underwater, with occasional tower blocks peeking out through the wet that are impossible to navigate from the surface. Zombies abound (I've seen Day of the Dead recently, so not the usual preoccupation), but none can swim. I travel through underwater tunnels to a spiral staircase where zombie Laura Tobin and Olly from The Thick of It don't realise I am edible. Eventually, through my own stupidity and incessant yelling, I give the game away and have to flee. I escape to a swanky new glass tower, where workmen attempt to build whilst fighting off zombies with plastic sheeting and tools. From a distance, one looks like Ben Affleck. I enter at the top of the tower, and decid...

Not especially old this, very vivid. It followed an early morning of extreme sickness in which I managed to read 60 pages of Philip Hoare's excellent 'Leviathan', whilst in the toilet, but enough of that...this dream essentially involved multiple versions of me imagining my own waking, none of which actually took place. 'I awake from a restless sleep, convinced that a fire is present somewhere in the building. It is not like a regular fire, as it doesn't grow, but instead hides. It doesn't want to be found out. The room I get dressed in is the front bedroom of the York house, though this has become the main bedroom now even though, in reality, none of the furniture would fit. I spend a long time staring at the socks in the sock drawer, convinced the fire may be concealed in one. Zoe attempts to reassure me that the fire has probably tired of our home and has moved on elsewhere, where people are less intent on discovering it. Outside the sky is pleasingly blue, ...

Old one, which from the date happened during that thankfully hazy year where I worked nights in one of those modern day supermarkets. Summertime, I would sleep throughout the day in blistering heat, some sort of sheet over my head to block out the light, and a fan on its highest setting blowing semi cold air over me. Prior to this I thought sleeping in the relatively pleasant upper teen Celsius was oppressive. Dreams from this period seem largely confusing. 'In the tower of a castle, and also in a field on the edge of the city. I have a george cross on a shield I'm holding, and, inexplicably, a nazi sword. I am clearly prepared to defeat someone. Steve coogan tries to drive me to a battle but his car is caught in a flash flood. Water swirls about me, and I wade through to save him, despite the obvious danger to myself. The battle doesn't seem to take place. Later, I am wandering around a University department, though not one of the Universities I have ever been to or visite...

'After taking a coastal path, I am obviously floating in a disembodied way, not the regular moving by vehicle or flying. Passing along strangely narrow A roads, like a coach, but again not, as previously mentioned. The side alleys and passages are Tudor in appearance, twisting out of view to an unknown end. It looks like a nice place to stop in and do some shopping. I make a mental note to tell my parents, as they enjoy this sort of old world place. My mental note is however readable as handwriting. I have written the word 'Winchester'.' 'In my house, after being out at sea holding someone's tits and saving a child from drowning. I have murdered a person, by stabbing them through the back of the neck. A countdown begins, presumably until the authorities arrive. I assess the possible options. None of them result in anything less than me being arrested for murder. The blood is crimson and the consistency of treacle.'