'Ben Barry, who I have not seen in reality for a good many years, has a vendetta against me. I am returning from a shopping trip with my Dad (Marty Crane from Frasier) and as we leave the lift, Ben is there with an accomplice who I am unable to see. He has a bag of bottles filled with petrol and a lighter which won't work. He tells me to 'fucking watch it.' I go inside, put the shopping down and call my brother, who by a small leap of logic, is Kelsey Grammer. He suggests calling the police. I do this, but as I open my door to check if Ben is still around, he runs at me, knocking me to the floor. In the hallway outside the apartment (tall building with remarkably few stairs, seemingly built where the Galaxy is in Luton) he tries to light the petrol bombs and gut my apartment. I grab the flame - oddly it doesn't burn my hands - and throw Ben to the floor. Then I run, down the stairs and out in to the quad, which is an odd mix of Luton and Birmingham, everything garish and neon lit for no discernible reason. Someone offers to hide me but I decline, instead sitting in a pub and thinking about the fact I have killed a man – this is only now apparent to me; the act of shoving Ben over actually killed him, though I don't remember this really happening. I decide to call the police and explain. They are already in my building and have decided I was right to kill Ben. There will be no trial. Kelsey Grammer calls to congratulate me.'
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...
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