There's something moving in my bedroom. It is always just out of sight; behind a pile of folders, under the shelves, rustling papers, disturbing clothes. It worries me, I'm fretful and want to know what's there, but don't want to get any closer.
After some while (it's not a fast mover whatever it is), I catch a glimpse of something smooth, black, patterned. Scales or carapace I can't quite tell. It concerns me, I know this isn't good.
At this point I wake up to turn on the light and find out that I never turned it off. I reach for the torch just in case.....
Friday, November 28, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
tv license
i go to visit a friend. he is in a new place. he shows me into a room that is as big as a hall. i sit on the floor and within a minute or two i have scared away some of his friends. i start walking around the walls he has been decorating them in posters, they look like the posters he has managed to peel off advertising hoardings, but they are all single colours with detailed pencilling on them of images of hp lovecraft, william s burroughs and cthulhu images. over each poster there are some sort of plastic covering that looks like it can be pulled tight to protect them. i suggest it looks better if he leaves them loose so that it has a giger alien feel about it. he agrees. we keep walking around the room/hall and come to part of it that looks like a newspaper vendor stall he steps into it. there are piles of old british comics all over it. he reminds me i was going to buy some of them. i told him i wished i had the money.
i start telling him a story (i am not sure if i am telling himself i have read in the news, i have been told myself, i have read or i have made up as i tell the story there is a feeling that i believe it). it is about an alien invasion that failed. it has something to do with invisible alien women following humans. some of the humans realise what is going on and they work out a way to kill the aliens in such a manner that the alien high command decides that earth is too dangerous place to come. the plan has something to do with pink as a colour. he doesn’t want to hear the entire story because he has to go and do something. so i write some of the story down. so i don’t forget it and i can let him read it.
we seem to be in a different room, not sure how the transition occurs. i am now watching him lining up lots of little soldiers on the floor and he is preparing to knock them down. he is chanting something while he does this and it is being videoed for you tube. i suggest that he could make a much bigger version and make it an epic video for the site. he smiles at the idea and seems very happy at.
then
i am at work. i am back. it feels odd. i seem to be there in time for something important. i am not sure what it is i am back for; no one is quite explaining it. i am walking around trying to work out what i need to do. it is raining outside. so i go out with my camera. the slick steps and streets are a dreamy version of whitehall merging into carlton terrace. i am standing in a doorway trying to take photos of the falling rain trying to catch it in the streetlights. i am using a large heavy lens, i know i am not going to get good results with it, but i need to try. after shooting off a load of images i give up. i start packing up. all of a sudden there is a little black labrador dog, it is squat and cartoony he bounds up to me giving me a fright, as i am startled the dog yelps a little and as it does that it seems to distort fur standing on end and legs shooting out, as if a cartoon electric charge has been fired through it.
the dog’s owner calls the dog over and apologises for it. i say there was nothing to worry about. the owner looks very pretty, she is pushing a pram. she looks like she has stepped out of the 1940s. i go back to putting my camera away, the dog jumps up at me again. the owner and i giggle. dog goes back to the owner and they go off. i return to packing up my camera bag. for some reason i end up putting it in a large puddle. i have a fear that the bag is not waterproof. i don’t know.
i never find out.
(dreams end)
i start telling him a story (i am not sure if i am telling himself i have read in the news, i have been told myself, i have read or i have made up as i tell the story there is a feeling that i believe it). it is about an alien invasion that failed. it has something to do with invisible alien women following humans. some of the humans realise what is going on and they work out a way to kill the aliens in such a manner that the alien high command decides that earth is too dangerous place to come. the plan has something to do with pink as a colour. he doesn’t want to hear the entire story because he has to go and do something. so i write some of the story down. so i don’t forget it and i can let him read it.
we seem to be in a different room, not sure how the transition occurs. i am now watching him lining up lots of little soldiers on the floor and he is preparing to knock them down. he is chanting something while he does this and it is being videoed for you tube. i suggest that he could make a much bigger version and make it an epic video for the site. he smiles at the idea and seems very happy at.
then
i am at work. i am back. it feels odd. i seem to be there in time for something important. i am not sure what it is i am back for; no one is quite explaining it. i am walking around trying to work out what i need to do. it is raining outside. so i go out with my camera. the slick steps and streets are a dreamy version of whitehall merging into carlton terrace. i am standing in a doorway trying to take photos of the falling rain trying to catch it in the streetlights. i am using a large heavy lens, i know i am not going to get good results with it, but i need to try. after shooting off a load of images i give up. i start packing up. all of a sudden there is a little black labrador dog, it is squat and cartoony he bounds up to me giving me a fright, as i am startled the dog yelps a little and as it does that it seems to distort fur standing on end and legs shooting out, as if a cartoon electric charge has been fired through it.
the dog’s owner calls the dog over and apologises for it. i say there was nothing to worry about. the owner looks very pretty, she is pushing a pram. she looks like she has stepped out of the 1940s. i go back to putting my camera away, the dog jumps up at me again. the owner and i giggle. dog goes back to the owner and they go off. i return to packing up my camera bag. for some reason i end up putting it in a large puddle. i have a fear that the bag is not waterproof. i don’t know.
i never find out.
(dreams end)
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