Skip to main content

Thirty Three

'In the hills of some unknown country, where Zoe and myself have been abducted by a group who bare a passing resemblance to The Shining Path. Their camp, which appears to mix elements of the Slaver stronghold in Fallout 3 and a farmers market, is easy for me to escape from, and I jog down through the hills on an unguarded road which ends in a gate not dissimilar to the one in Jurassic Park. After escaping, I realise that Zoe has not followed me, despite my believing that that had been my original instruction to her. On an opposing hillside, I plan her rescue with a motley crew of carnival freaks. I draw up plans on a picnic table whilst everyone eats and makes excuses as to why they are scared of rescuing her. I go on a reconnoitring mission over the hills nearby, which now resemble Austria. I decide the easiest way in is the way I departed from, but everyone disagrees, unable to understand how a lack of guards is a good thing. Next to the picnic area is a military compound for another army. I notice they are loading a van with weapons before proceeding through a gate. I decide to pretend I am operating the gate and sneak on to the back of the truck to steal the weapons. They turn out to be guitar hero accessories. Actor Geoff Pierson appears in military fatigues, apparently the commander of the facility. He asks me who I am and what I am doing. I say I was trying to steal guns but they turned out to be plastic guitars. He tells me to be more careful in future. Zoe remains unrescued.'

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...

Eighteen

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 fi...

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.