Skip to main content

Thirty Nine

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 afternoon heat haze. Robin sets fire to the car, and we hide in a disused conference centre located in the park (Deep Dens near Round Green). Choosing not to join us, Rhianna escapes in to the forest, morphing in to the singer from Ultra Nate as she does, never to return. As the dreamer, I experience each hiding place in first person, my own personal choice being the ceiling ventilation ducts. The Mafiosos find the car and assume we're in the conference centre. I dislodge some dust whilst crawling and they work out I am in the ceiling. Avoiding gun fire, I somehow escape. The top of Deep Dens is now a mountainous part of Switzerland. I am hiding here with Dad. We are required to obtain some kind of official documents to prove our citizenship. In a mountain tunnel (basically Hatfield) we are made to wash a dog that is trapped in a sheep run and also enter some sort of raffle. Afterwards, now seemingly not bothered by the Mafia, I am in Paris, wandering between tanks and official looking men. I wonder what happened to the diamond, how my companions fared, and whether or not Robin burned the twins alive when he set fire to the mini.'
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fifteen + Sixteen

Long pause between posts owing to house moving and a lack of internet connection for over six weeks. Most frustrating. The intervening period has however furnished me with some new and skewed meanderings inside the subconscious underworld. The first, as you can guess from the reference to a certain daily newspaper, is from a while ago. The second (a double post to make up for the absence) came from a book I found whilst packing that contains notes on a defunct record label, conversations not appropriate for verbal discussion and occasional nocturnal recollections. 15. A warehouse, not dissimilar to Asda, where everything comes in multicoloured stacked boxes. Most boxes hold copies of The Times. I tell someone that they're not selling because they're not as cool as the new Berliner format Guardian (depressing how sad I am even in dreams). Later, am on an island, a little like the one in Lost. At one point I even ask when Walt is coming back. There are a crack team of commandos a...
3 comments
Read more

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...
2 comments
Read more

First

Essentially I am using this as an area for storing a collection of nocturnal happenings in my brain. Sometimes, and it waxes and wanes over the year, I awake and write down what I've been thinking about whilst asleep. It's a bit more ethereal than simple chronicling, as I tend to be mostly asleep when it happens, and writing comes automatically to my fingers. Most of it is ache. However, patterns will emerge. These notes develop, eventually (and after a long process of twiddling, mastication and reconstruction), in to what is currently called The Last Night Tree. I will sometimes add brief notes/explanations to where certain items/instances have come from and why they are included. (?) indicates sections and ideas that I cannot presently recall, but apparently could at the time of writing. The only grammatical changes made to each entry are adding capital letters to the beginning of sentence which I am for some reason incapable of doing at random o'clock. I should point out...
Post a Comment
Read more