I am back at 3, Crosby Close, in Wolverhampton.
My key still opens the door.
Inside, everything is still in disarray, my old dog Snowy is there, with a younger version of himself, and a friends dog, Nebraska, is also there. I am aware that someone is squatting, but hasn’t changed the locks, they are taking good care of the dogs, even though they’re very pleased to see me after such a long time. Students who live next door come round, to find out who I am, having never seen the squatters. I invite them in, they make themselves at home, I tell them not to drink all the beer and vodka or the squatters won’t be happy.
I tell both students and dogs, that I will return in a few days, to take the dogs back.
I leave the students arguing about the validity of a huge square pound coin as a means of payment.
At workshop with Ori and Rob. Me and Rob go out. I look round Argos for cheap shoes. They are crap, but mine are falling apart. Upstairs we play odd instruments amplified by a remote armchair with built-in speakers.
I lose Rob and am carrying my Danelectro guitar into a housing office. A builder arrives and we watch a movie about submarines called Scopecity.
I leave and my guitar disintegrates, it is made of polystyrene. I see a sign for Talaton even though I know I’m closer to Dudley than Devon.
I walk up a road that should be a river, and through an estate and a narrow concrete path. It gets very steep and is blocked by a horizontal concrete door. A rasta bloke and a Pentecostalist woman help me through, telling me stories about their brother.
I am on a bus somewhere in Manchester.
I don’t know how I got here. I am barefoot and wearing a gas mask. I press the bell but the driver passes the stop. He slows down but doesn’t stop as I step off.
I am happy that I recognise this place. It looks a bit like the Miners Estate in Manchester. I wonder if I am dreaming. The air in my lung feels real, and the concrete through my socks. A van is driving towards me. With a gesture I stop it, and force the doors open and the occupants out. I realise I am dreaming. I drive the van for a while.
It’s like the most boring computer game ever.
I am playing cards with Tanya and other friends. The cards are regular playing cards and tarot cards simultaneously. I’m in a seperate room, but I win anyway. A doctor comes to see me, I say I’m only ill because of a lack of naked women in bed with me. Tanya gets changed and laughs, giving me a look of “Not a chance, mate”.
I go out, I consider putting a window through with my fist to return to hospital. I realise this is a bad idea, just another form of self harm.
. Wandering through Willenhall, people stand like statues. I have a conversation with a woman about how little there is to do. TV has not been invented yet. I ask about a huge building on a mountainside. It has almshouses incorporated at the bottom, and higher up has planer, modernist architecture. A man explains it was an old roman school. Saxons did a bad conversion job on it. Amazingly some of the plumbing still works.
Trying to leave the building, the doors are not where I expect them to be. There are many doors, one after the other. A young man with glasses is following me. I ask him for help. He’s strong and soon forces the final door open.
I am in a school. The government is recruiting teachers. I walk through tables and othe objects like a ghost, then bump into the table of the helpful man with glasses. He is not a hallucination. He has cakes he has made himself. I apologise and walk on.
A random selection of images to original music and me talking about my latest dream. I’ll try to do things more like this from now, time permitting.
my last dream after a dreamless period of illness.