I am upstairs on a double decker London bus, old style one, I am reading, sat at the front, it is raining heavily. I realise the bus is out of control. There’s no one driving. I panic and rush down stairs.
I don’t have a licence or insurance. I stop the bus in a layby. The drivers cockpit is flooded, as if there had been a driver made of rain, who had lost his solid form and soaked the seat.
Some people ask if I need help. I walk away, aware of the laws I have broken.
I am at a cousins house. Four of us share a bed. I listen into my cousins phone conversation with his girlfriend, he can’t get a word in edge ways. I tell him she may as well be talking to herself.
There’s a knock at the door. A group of drunks are trying to get in to a party that does not exist. I close the door on them but two manage to get in. They just wanted to lose some of thier ‘friends’.
I go out into the street. It is dark and full of noisy drunk people. I am afraid.
I search for my bus. I walk for a long time. Days. I can’t remember where it is. I chant the number over and over “29,29,29,2010″.
A woman talks to me. She takes my phone number. For a brief moment I am sane again.
I have been searching and chanting for three years.
As I chant stars form into a mandala and I levitate ecstatically towards them.
Below me people scoff at me. I grab one by the hair and pull him up. His friends try to pull him down. Soon I am swinging around a whole line of people. I chant the number and fly towards the star mandala.
I let the people go, they fall back to earth.
I see my bus pass and pursue it. It turns into a vehicle auction place. I go in. There are many vehicles here. Looking down on them from a wooden scaffold, the dream fades.