This was probably the first dream I can remember having since moving back to York. It obviously harks back to specific childhood memories, blended with the usual cast of people from when I was younger (except the comedian). Misc sexual references to trains I would assume is related to Hitchcock, but perhaps Zizek is the best judge of that. Lots of symbols to wrap teeth around.
'Wandering through Putteridge Bury. An indistinct beginning, following that much traveled road to the farmhouse and dried up pond. A man spins a sports car on some gravel alongside a barn conversion I am unfamiliar with (I realised when I work up that I did know the barn...odd that whilst asleep my brain wouldn't recognise it). I walk along the track to where the old white house should be, next to the greenhouse my Dad used to own. Instead, just scrub land and some kids jumping on a knackered trampoline. I meander towards what I assume is Great Hayes; there is a long row of portaloos by the roadside. I find instead some sort of Warhammer based festival. A high orange fence prevents my entry, which I am secretly thankful for. I meet up with Zoe, and a woman called Laura whom I don't know. Laura rubs herself on me and says 'There's tension between us.'
A random aside; somewhere near the festival is a badly erected tent full of steam trains, just sitting on the grass with wind blowing leaves in from outside. I am having sex between the trains.
Back again, to a different festival where men and women are playing arcade machines in a blackened room. I wander about a bit, paying no heed to what is going on, until I pass through some double doors. I spot Broughall. He spots me and runs. I follow, Frankie Boyle inexplicably in tow. We go down a flight of stairs, lit by strange blue crystals (This comes from the council flat decorated by Roger Hiorns called 'Seizure'). Broughall definitely came this way.
At the bottom, there is no sign of him, and we emerge in to a Roman style toilet where four women are shitting. An unfortunately placed security guard tells me of a secret door. Through it is a physically impossible staircase, wrapped inside the original, intertwined, explorable, though invisible to those not passing through the secret door. At the top of the stairs is Broughall, and his brother (not dressed as soldiers). Boyle is gone. I join them at a bar and we drink. The room is dimly lit and has an unpleasant feeling, as if those inside it are gradually having the life drained from them. Matt Hyde and a man named James (who is lying with him on a sofa) beckon me over. They are both pale, indistinct. Hyde pats the man on the leg. They move slowly, deliberately, like two dying snakes coiled inside one another...much like the staircase. Turning away, the room slips, the floor is a fog of grey rope. I notice my right hand is cut and bleeding.'
'Wandering through Putteridge Bury. An indistinct beginning, following that much traveled road to the farmhouse and dried up pond. A man spins a sports car on some gravel alongside a barn conversion I am unfamiliar with (I realised when I work up that I did know the barn...odd that whilst asleep my brain wouldn't recognise it). I walk along the track to where the old white house should be, next to the greenhouse my Dad used to own. Instead, just scrub land and some kids jumping on a knackered trampoline. I meander towards what I assume is Great Hayes; there is a long row of portaloos by the roadside. I find instead some sort of Warhammer based festival. A high orange fence prevents my entry, which I am secretly thankful for. I meet up with Zoe, and a woman called Laura whom I don't know. Laura rubs herself on me and says 'There's tension between us.'
A random aside; somewhere near the festival is a badly erected tent full of steam trains, just sitting on the grass with wind blowing leaves in from outside. I am having sex between the trains.
Back again, to a different festival where men and women are playing arcade machines in a blackened room. I wander about a bit, paying no heed to what is going on, until I pass through some double doors. I spot Broughall. He spots me and runs. I follow, Frankie Boyle inexplicably in tow. We go down a flight of stairs, lit by strange blue crystals (This comes from the council flat decorated by Roger Hiorns called 'Seizure'). Broughall definitely came this way.
At the bottom, there is no sign of him, and we emerge in to a Roman style toilet where four women are shitting. An unfortunately placed security guard tells me of a secret door. Through it is a physically impossible staircase, wrapped inside the original, intertwined, explorable, though invisible to those not passing through the secret door. At the top of the stairs is Broughall, and his brother (not dressed as soldiers). Boyle is gone. I join them at a bar and we drink. The room is dimly lit and has an unpleasant feeling, as if those inside it are gradually having the life drained from them. Matt Hyde and a man named James (who is lying with him on a sofa) beckon me over. They are both pale, indistinct. Hyde pats the man on the leg. They move slowly, deliberately, like two dying snakes coiled inside one another...much like the staircase. Turning away, the room slips, the floor is a fog of grey rope. I notice my right hand is cut and bleeding.'
Comments
This made me think of Laura you used to live with