I am at a theatre. There is an animal act on stage. There’s a dog, a ferret and a mongoose. They race across the theatre, through the audience. On stage a kiwi contortionist squeezes into a tiny box.
The Earth is hollow. there is a land that is simultaneously underneath Brazil and the Forest of Dean. the walls of this underground kingdom shake, another reality brakes through. These people are like giants, descended from Vikings. They capture a tiny soldier and call him Centurion.
An Office. I am buying stamps to post some CDs. I buy the wrong value, and the lady behind the counter tries to sell me more stamps than I need. She is upset when I spot her ruse. There’s a gent there too, I realize I am dreaming and Identify them as Loki like tricksters. I decide to walk through the tiny city outside. I slide back a glass door, and weave my way through wooden statues. One is a white violin. I strum it and other instruments resonate to the sound. One of the statues is a tribal man. His eyes follow me. He is alive. He asks “Do you know anything about black magic?” I reply “Sadly, there isn’t much call for it in Woolwich.” and walk on.