I am on a street. It has stalls along it for Halloween. At the end of the cul de sac is a cafe with a stage. A band is rehearsing their moves, but without playing. One of them is complaining about being moved to a navel base in North Devon.
I am walking through a shop looking at books. I am having difficulty walking. It is hard to move my legs. There’s a battered copy of Aleister Crowleys commentary on the Romans. It is £2 but the cover is missing so I put it back.
Lots of people have sat around me. The shop is now a room in a church. They are having a meeting so me and others, including a cat, leave. The cat enters a Gap in the wall. I see there is a facade and behind it ancient carved stone. Another cat runs up and plays with me, he bites my hand, drawing blood, then retracts to become a carved head in a tiny pool of liquid. Steam rises from the liquid as my blood mixes with it. The head says “alcoholic”.