Sunday, November 22, 2009

random dream

Im with my son and my daughter at Conrads house ( with his small daughter )
and its totally awkward ..
glad that was a dream

Friday, May 01, 2009

30/4/09 Dreams

I'm with the family and we're all going swimming to the pool at Plymouth Pavilions. Except of course, this being a dream, it all looks different and more labyrinth-like.

As I walk past the crowds I accidentally nudge some large, menacing looking bloke who snarls and calls me out. He starts to chase me and I quickly become lost amongst the stairwells and corridors.

Along the way I manage to find a staff member, and she shows me back to where my family waits impatiently. My dear partner bawls me out for disappearing, being irresponsible, etc and in a fit of anger I storm off, out of the building, into Plymouth.

Cross, I walk around the town until I realise...I am lost again.

And then I wake up.

Or rather I am woken by my youngest son, who has just sneaked into the big bed, having had a nightmare. "What was it about?" I ask.

"The Sabretooth Tiger from Primeval was chasing me." he says. And I remember the toy I bought him last weekend, and sigh.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


Im just having a day..but people keep following me..
strange quiet people who look normal.
but i know they arent.

in my head I'm telling my self
this is just a dream..wake up , wake up , wake up

and i wake up..
relieved its over.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Milkman Of Human Kindness

I'm the only person
in a room with Billy Bragg.
And Billy Bragg is stripped to the waist.
And holding a ukulele across his chest.
And the ukulele has loose strings.
Billy performs 'Help Save The Youth Of America'
for me and for me alone,
whilst strumming
on the ukulele. And i can tell
that although he's singing
the words live,
the music is pre-recorded
and being piped-in from somewhere else.
And when he finishes the song,
The Bard of Barking lowers the ukulele.
And only then does he reveal
that he's been wearing
a black brassiere throughout.

Friday, February 13, 2009


I know I am in a workplace but it seems more like a lounge area. I'm talking to a woman who I know as a very straight-laced corporate executive. Strangely though, she is lounging back on her chair with her feet up on a table and she's smoking. She's asking me questions about places. I recall that Anigonish NS was one of them. I don't know anything about any of these places at all. At a certain point I start to think that this is a job interview, so I ask, and she responds, "of course it is, silly...are you ready for your test?". She hands me a book and shows me where the test is in the book, but when I take the book in my hands the test disappears. It isn't in the book anymore. I say I lost the test, and she looks at me scornfully and prints another off at a nearby printer. As I read the test, it becomes real. I'm looking into a chute of some kind. Several feet back in the chute, there are bars and just this side of the bars, there are some items that appear to have been washed through the bars and deposited in the chute. They include some keys, some broken glass and a few other unidentified items. Suddenly, a question is typed in the air in front of me in Courier font. "Describe the effect on neighbourhood crime".

My alarm then woke me up.


business hotties:
i am a large corporate office meeting room, big oval table, and lots of chairs, big windows allowing great views of the city. i am alone; i am trying to find a piece of paper that has some important information on it that i need to share with a colleague (who appears to be tim who i used to work with and was in a previous dream). there is no panic just the beginning sense of urgency.
i find the right papers as tim walks in.
i slide it across the table to him. it scoots perfectly to a stop in front of him. i notice the knots in the design of the table.
tim looks at sheet. we both snigger.
the important information is a combination of spreadsheet and glossary that describes the hotness of our colleagues.

large school gym/ assembly hall. parquet flooring that has darkened with age and coats of polish. the layout of the space changes throughout the dream, sometimes the stage is there, sometimes it is not. it seems as if a large group of people have been kidnapped. or at the very least have been made to attend, it is hard to tell. one thing is certain: no one seems to want to be there.
the group has been split by sex. the girls face the boys. there are all shapes and sizes in the group. they are all wearing flesh toned lycra jumpsuits.
there is someone standing over them all, their identity never revealed.
the two groups are being shouted at and they are being forced to do a large-scale dance routine. everyone looks embarrassed to be there.

i am in café that is a mix of 50s american diner, northern café and pie & mash shop. i am standing in between two corner booths, wooden wall dividers and mirrors around. the floor is black and white tiles, there is a lot of formica, on the tables there are tomato shaped sauce dispensers.
there are a crowd of people sitting in the booths. i am holding court. we all look like rejects from ‘happy days’. i am in a leather jacket and white t-shirt. i have no idea what i am talking about, but i am in full flow.
at the end of one booth is sitting a woman, she looks up at me and says something, what is said is not clear. she is marisa tomei.
my reply is short and curt: “nice baps”.

i am riding on a bus (or tram); the street outside seems strangely empty and very wide. i seem to be fresh faced and bushy tailed. in my hand i am clutching a large book, dark blue cover with bold yellow writing. it is my new work manual.
i am off to my first day on the job and i am excited to be working at macdonalds.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

comical happenings

there is an event going on in a big hotel, there should be a feeling of glitz and glamour but it feels very much like a sunday afternoon at a butlins camp. for some reason the event is taking place over several rooms. i have a role of being the mc for one of my colleagues, npj. he is going to be giving out some awards, so my job is to introduce him and the awardees, plus i also have to run around to the other room to get the various people.
i ask npj which order he wants the awards to go in. he shrugs.
i decide to throw away the speech cards and do it on the fly.
i make a very good, and short, speech introducing a french retailer. he is a bald headed bull of a man, who has to walk a long distance to get to the stage.

i retire out of the hall.
the foyer area is like my old school. big windows, concrete slabs for the floor, glass doors and an awards cabinet. there are a bunch of teenagers running around the space. there is a fear that they are going to break something. i step in and tell them to move on. i chase them out of the building.

that leads me into the garden area. there are some people sniggering so i walk over to them. they are looking into a shed like building. as i join them i can see what is causing them amusement, in the shed two people are showering both are men and they appear to be washing each other. i enter the building only to see two men pretending to wash each other and laughing at the people who are watching them.

they leave the shed and i decide to have a shower.
the building changes from brick to blue canvas and then gets blown down.
the canvas gets ripped to pieces and bits of it stick to me. i am now in pants, soaked and with bits of blue canvas stuck to me. the location seems to have changed and i am in the middle of a square of houses, smack in the middle of a flowerbed. i look around for a hose to wash off the canvas.
people are looking at me.

(dream ends)

Thursday, January 15, 2009


it is all very much a 90s pop video. black and white, taking place in a large airy backstage space that resembles a ballroom from a posh house. throughout the space there are draped white curtains and there are pools of electric white light.
there are three dancers in this space: two men and a woman. they circle each other. one man seems to be always facing the other two, and he seems to be challenging them. the dancing is sensual and balletic, a nu-romantic version of “west side story”. the views of the dancers change sometimes we are watching them from a distance, other times our view is in the middle of the dance looking out at them, there are close-ups on the faces. there are long lingering looks and there are fast jump cut edits. from the views of them we can see that they are singing, but there is no sound.
the solo male dancer is robert redford, he is wearing an angelic white shirt, he is doing lots of hand movements towards the other dancer, mostly they appear to be bruce lee ‘come on’ type gestures. the man he is challenging is tom cruise. the woman is never revealed.

(dream ends)

Monday, January 12, 2009


i am moving towards a large desk, i have lots of papers in my hand. i need to sort them out, they hold a clue. each of them is a photograph of a bookcase. there is a large white border around each image, in the top right there is a number, top left there is a time – the font looks reminiscent of that used in the prisoner.
at the desk i try to get the papers in order. it should be simple, they are numbered but there are a lot of them.
i try to lay the papers down to make them more manageable; it is hard to keep them in check.
it soon becomes apparent as to what is happening in the pictures. one of the books is being moved. not being taken off the shelf just pushed in or pulled out, as if it is a switch to a secret chamber.

i am playing a game on my mobile phone. it is an intensive and draining game. even though i am engrossed in playing the game, i do not know what the game is or how it is played. it is like i am viewing myself from the back so my body shields the view.
(strangely when i woke up i tried to play the game on my phone, it took several minutes before i remembered that there is not a game on my phone).

i am at a funeral service for my father. at first the view is from above and i am watching myself move around the space. where i am sitting is below the level the door and to get to it you have to walk down a few stairs.
i am sitting on a beanbag type thing in a large square area. there are several more of these beanbag things scattered around. a few more people come into the space.
i get up to do something with the service. i am wearing a black two-piece black suit, the shirt is a blue flowery patterned affair which is not tucked in, as i move i notice that the hi-tech (brand name) combat boots i am wearing are battered and very heavily scuffed. i feel a little uncomfortable about the way i am dressed.
a little later i am sitting down. slightly slumped, slightly distanced from those around me.
two men interrupt me; they are my age (and i seem to be in my late teens / early twenties in the dream) they are dressed in sombre suits. i think they are coming to offer condolences. one of them reminds me of an old school colleague (someone i was never really close to, and best i can say about him was that he was pale, had clammy hands and a double jointed thumb) the other one i can’t place. both are very earnest, both lean into me, their voices are low. one of them asks me if i had seen their new graphic novel.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

10/1/09 Dream

Tim and I are in London, making our way to Everton football ground (I know) to get an autograph from manager Fabio Cappello (I know).

We climb walls to get in and make our way to the technical area, which is encased in clear plastic. The match is over, and Tim moves in for the kill with a brochure for him to sign, as Fabio stares silently at his players sitting around him. Meanwhile, I creep past and downstairs to put a Simpsons trading card in his jacket pocket for him to find later.

And then I wake up.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

09/1/09 Dream

My mum, Dad (alive again), sisters' kids and I are going to Darts Farm for the day as we hear it's closing. And for some reason, we're going to be driving there in an open top bus.

As we speed through the country roads, my father really puts his foot down (this is unlike him in in real life - he only ever speeded once, and got caught for it). I'm te only person on the upper deck, and as we go round bends I actually have to hold on tightly or be thrown from the bus.

Then, on the next turn, he overdoes it. The bus crashes over onto it's side, but I manage to jump safely to the ground without harm. Everyone inside is fine.

My Dad stands by the overturned bus, desolate. I put an arm round his shoulder, and say "Well, you were going a bit fast round those corners...". He nods agreement.

Abigail, my sister's eldest child is crying by the side of the road. "It's OK," I tell her, "No-one was hurt."

"I'm just sad that Darts Farm is closing." she says.

And then I wake up.