A Disintegration Loop

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 bo...

Last night: 'Wandering around a down-town area of the city; initially feeling a carnival atmosphere, but it quickly turns sour. Emergency service vehicles arrive - one is driven by Stokes - and a series of injured men are carted out in to the roads that are occupied by some sort of protest. I do not know the reasoning behind this. I run between hastily assembled shanties, fashioned from the backs of articulated lorries. Everything is skewed slightly, so my balance is off, and I am constantly stumbling in to the next shanty and apologising to the occupants. They seem nonchalant, possibly drugged. Later, after the area has been attacked by an unnamed militia type force, I drive Stokes about in an ambulance trying to show him what happened. He is seemingly unaware of his earlier involvement, or I am. The street are bright, the buildings ramshackle and sagging, like winter at the seaside. This is not the rejuvenated financial district I was expecting'

A retread of familiar ground - an Asda inspired dream, coming two years after I finished working there and moved back to York. 'Am welcomed back to Asda as a Christmas temp (I believe this dream was inspired by a short video of Oli dancing at work that he uploaded to Facebook - he has subsequently been fired for a variety of offenses). I congratulate Lee Whitlock on his promotion to some sort of management type chump and wave to Phil, a man who never worked there but is inexplicably present. The canteen has been replaced with computers, and downstairs the shelves are filled with items I am unfamiliar with. A security team ask me and Hassan (Adam's Karachi-based Uni chum) to round up short people who they want to speak to for 'marketing purposes'. I run around blindly, asking nobody and hoping that security will not notice. Hassan appears to do the same, and we regroup prior to returning to security to discuss our strategy. We will be fired if we do not find 18 people. A...

Whilst tidying up some cupboards and rooting through old stuff, I found the following recollection - I was fairly certain I had already used it on here, but apparently not: 'The Google Chrome logo is a highly destructive robot, attacking a shopping centre I am in for a second time - I distinctly recall saying 'here we go again'. I am also aware that the robot, similar to the terrible CGI thing on 20th Century Boys, will attack everything and I need to find a safe place to go. I hide downstairs in a discount bookshop, which turns out to be one of those annoying Yankee candle type places, where the staff are overwhelmingly helpful even though a)I'm clearly not interested in buying their shit and b) a massive robot is trying to kill us. Upstairs, Zoe continues to run the glass fronted sandwich and CD shop I remember walking round before the robot appeared. Location is everything

An odd one last night, in which my brother killed another version of himself and then buried him upright in sand, having covered him in carrier bags. My family were generally disbelieving, so I had to take them outside and dig him up. 'Other' Adam was then thrown out. This week, I have been digging up early crop potatoes which is partially related I think. Any way, this next one was the longest and most vivid, from about 4 years ago... 'We, a group of four misc. people and Rhianna - not sure why - have kidnapped some twins, presumably a pair, along with a valuable diamond; all are the possessions of some sort of tech-heavy Mafia don. We escape from his large ambiguous house in a mini cooper, the old style one, but a man with a hand operated CCTV camera identifies us as we pass through a tunnel (for some reason, the Stopsley Village A505 bypass is now a tunnel). Shortly afterwards, we ditch the car on the outskirts of a park, a forest swaying in the distance through mid afte...

This has a tinge of LA Noire to it, which is why I'm including it at this juncture. Although I've not played LA Noire. Or know much about it. I'm assuming it's like playing a game of LA Confidential, which is what this dream reminds me of...as indeed I appear to mention. Quite an old one this, as I recall it: 'Walking around a sloping district of the city with Daniel and Liam, in and out of peculiar sandstone structures. It is like 1950s LA in terms of climate and washed out colour. Later, I appear to be working as some sort of informant for an organisation I wasn't aware I was a member of. Asda, still replete with people I once worked with (I visit with my Dad, remarking that nothing has changed in a year except the lighting), now runs a hotel, similar to the building my apartment was in in an earlier dream (where I murder an old aquaitance by pushing him over). I break in to investigate something that may or may not be happening. Someone is committing some sor...

The dream below 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. This depresses me a little as I left there nearly two years ago; '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. 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. "Have a bit more fucking courtesy," I yell at him. He looks at me, blood dripping from a cut above his eye, and says "Try lo...